The seven holy cities of India

by Simeone Andrulli

Anxiety!
There were nights I couldn't fall asleep. When it occurred, my dreams were restless and mysterious. It wasn't the first trip I set out; my job often takes me to pleasant places, sometimes risky too. Nevertheless this time a strange feeling dominated my mind. Traveling usually relaxes me, especially by air, but even the long flight didn't help to alienate my restlessness.
My destination was India. A journey to the discovery of the holy cities, of the Kumbh Mela. The scent and colors, different ones of course, never seen before. An unnatural light seemed to ooze everywhere. Two weeks elapsed from the beginning of the clashes between the Hindu and Muslim parties of the population: the Babri Masjid Mosque had been knock down and it was the central point of the revolt, the ancient city of Ayodhya, Rama's birthplace.
I arrived at sunset, a strange torpor pervaded me; maybe the fog . Maybe the smell of dung loaves hung to dry out. They will be used as fuel at diner time. I close my eyes; a face appeared, a face never seen before. Collective unconscious? Maybe the tiredness, obvious in such a different land.

I set out for the mosque. Before reaching it, along the path I was covering, an imposing fortress stood in front of me. It was the fortress of Hanuman, Rama's faithful companion, by half human and half monkey body. The whole fortress was literally overrun by monkeys. I was walking distracted by the dozens of curious primates. Too absent-minded, a pebble tripped me up. I ended up facing the ground and aching because of the fall I closed my eyes. A light, a flash, again that face, smiling
Should be afraid? It wasn't so, not because of my intrepid courage but for that absurd relaxation.
I reach what is left of the mosque. At its place there was a tent hosting Hindu sacred images Click! I take the pictures and go away.

Huge mountains stood out against the horizon, in the distance a small point grows bigger and bigger: it was a city, it was Haridwar. A river, the Gange courting the Siwalik hills, first mountains of Himalayas. On the river shore I caught a glimpse of a holy man under a majestic and reassuring tree. I can't explain why, I have to talk to the sadhu. The mystery is soon uncovered: the face appearing to me from time to time was there in front of me. Removed from his meditation he looked at me with familiarity and smiled.
"I was waiting for you, you came at last. Now you can leave for Ujjain!"
He did not add anything else. Why had I to obey to him? Suddenly I remembered that my next destination was Ujjain. I took the pictures and left.

What I was looking for? Why am I still here?
I was seated for long time nearby the astronomic observatory, the Vedha Shala. Astronomers erroneously thought that Ujjain lied down along the Tropic of Cancer. Something impedes me to move on. Voices, a crowd, children passing nearby. They laugh, I look at them, they laugh. Their mouths and teeth grow bigger, the faces multiply. I lost consciousness. Suddenly I was alone and exhausted, I stood up and set forth to disappear among the city lanes.
One after one, the holy cities passed under my eyes: Mathura, Varanasi, Allahabad, Kanchipuram, Nasik. I realized to be looking for something; just I did not know what.
Despite the tiredness that possessed me from the Vedha Shala, my pictures were improving better than being in good shape. Every person, every temple, every riverbank was a new light. I looked, I listened to, I waited for: just I did not know what. The drowsiness turns into trance.

My departure from India was approaching!
Shining swords under the sun, sand dunes running; I caught a glimpse of the remains of Alexander the Great's powerful armies. The sun was at zenith, the heat unbearable. A man from his camel's height caught sight of me. He approached, held out a flask of water. Still him, the man appearing like a flash from time to time.
"You are close to your destination, Dwarka is there, on the other side of the gulf"
"Where am I?" I asked.
"Does it matter?"
"I want to know, I must know!"
While he continued his own way, before fading among the dunes and marshes he turned and said:
"Men named it Rann of Kutch and fear it, but don't be afraid, the only thing to be afraid is yourself"
On boat I crossed the sound separating me from Dwarka. Through the clear blue waters I could see the seabed, luxuriant of life. Through the myriad of sea animals I saw something "Dwarka!" I thought. The boatman, understanding my amazement broke his silence "Long time ago Krishna reigned here. When he died the sea swallowed the capital of his Kingdom, Dwarka".

I reached the shore and stopped near a temple. While the sun was going to rest behind the foaming and rowdy waves playing like nymphs, I stared the green-azure colors of the sea and the majestic orange of the sky. Sound of footsteps in the distance: a strange figure approached. An old man with a few hairs, long white beard, white-haired and neglected moustaches. On the spacious forehead white painted lines. Two deep eyes. He sat next to me and silently he looked at me. I returned the glance. How long did it last? I can't answer.

"What are you waiting for, young man?" he asked me with his hoarse voice
"I don't know, perhaps I look for something"
"Sure, everybody is looking for something in India" he replied
"Can you tell me what I look for? I don't know yet, I feel like not being the same person anymore"
"Then you have found what you were looking for. It is only a seed, let it grow inside you"

Departing train! A young girl holding in her arms her younger brother, launched in a race with a train to say good-bye to me. With the brow beaded with perspiration I suddenly woke up. I am not in India, I am at Charles de Gaulle airport of Paris. From the speakers they announce my flight to New Delhi. I slept then. How long? Calm and quiet I looked at the sky and for a moment the clouds seemed to shape that face.
In my hand I had a seed!