Australian Yoga Journal — July 2017

EXPERIENCE

tr l

88

july 2017

yogajournal.com.au

We walked silently, choosing to

conserve our energy rather than expend

it by chatting—except for Singh, who

excitedly told us why so many Hindus

make this pilgrimage.

“The Ganges isn’t just a river—she is

a goddess, Ma Ganga,” said Singh, who

went on to explain why she is the most

revered and sacred river in Hindu lore.

When Ma Ganga was asked to descend

to Earth from the heavens, she was

insulted, so she decided to sweep away

everything in her path with her waters

once she reached the terrestrial plain. In

order to protect the Earth from Ma

Ganga’s force, Lord Shiva sat in Gangotri

and caught the powerful river in his hair,

saving the Earth from cracking open.

Thanks to Shiva, Ma Ganga’s purifying

waters could then flow without being

destructive, and for centuries the devout

have travelled to her banks to wash away

sins and find salvation. The water is

considered so sacred, Hindus will have it

sprinkled on their bodies if they can’t die

on the banks of the Ganges. And the

ultimate pilgrimage, for those who are

able, is a journey to Gomukh, the

Gangotri Glacier where Ma Ganga’s

headwaters start flowing. “You can feel

the energy there,” Singh said.

About a kilometre into the hike, we

took a water break in a shady spot at

the first of countless mini-peaks.

“Oh, Shiva!” said a breathless Carol

Dimopoulos, a yoga teacher and

president of Learning Journeys at Perillo

Tours, who had organised the trip. We

laughed, and the phrase became a

refrain when one or more of us was

struggling.

It had been a year of “Oh, Shiva!”

moments for me, big life changes that

were as emotionally challenging as the

physically demanding trail I was on: a

bad breakup, a big move, a new job. This

opportunity to trek to Gomukh and also

see some of North India’s holiest cities

and temples felt like an ideal way to take

stock and start fresh.

Onward and inward

The trail to Gomukh was surprisingly

uncrowded given the hike’s spiritual

significance. However, the 1o-hour drive

from Rishikesh to Gangotri we’d made

the day before explained why so few

undertake the journey. Unlike the well-

paved highways leading to national

parks in other countries, we encountered

nothing but single-lane, pothole-filled

mountain passes. The higher our van

climbed, the more nailbiting—though

majestic—the views. The roads were so

narrow that our driver had no choice but

to hug the abyss, a guardrail-free plunge

into increasingly deeper ravines. The

common experience of chaos in India

that had struck me just a few days earlier

in Delhi—the sea of rickshaws, three-

wheeled tuk-tuk taxis, and forlorn cows

walking through it all—felt far away as I

travelled into a somewhat more

peaceful, inner chaos high in the

Himalayas.

As we approached 3350 metres, the

strong sun made the wild Himalayan

roses lining our path glitter, yet it wilted

our energy. Altitude sickness set in for a

few members of the group, who slowed

down due to headache and nausea. And

none of us was immune to the surge in

emotional rumblings as we walked along

the quiet trail—something my friend

Elizabeth, who’d gone on this pilgrimage

herself when she lived in India years

In a place where nothing seemed

familiar—the language, the elaborate

Sanskrit lettering on boulders along the

trail, the devotion woven into every

interaction, and the imposing peaks on

the horizon that made me feel like I was

approaching the edge of the world—

I felt a surprising sense of ease.

The Taj Mahal

Mala beads for sale

En route to Gangotri

Monkey on the road