I had to step out into the crowded, teeming streets. I too had my own conflicts …. I prostrated myself at the entrance to the temple before I departed. I had now to think of my own problems. With a certain reluctance I left my own area of peace and calm. I hoped that the planets would be favourable for the coming year. I went out from the darkness and coolness of the temple into the blazing sunlight. The woman remained behind but before I left she came up to me and said, ‘Mahathmaya, I have spent all my money—please give me some money to go home.’

I pulled out some change and put it into her hands. ‘Amme, continue praying. Perhaps the gods will hear your prayers some day …’

As I walked out I saw her once more, in her hands the coconut with its camphor, standing before the image of Kali, as if her pilgrimage had only just begun.

Fragments from a Journey

DEWA STANDS ON the balcony of ‘Hotell Arun’ and looks out to the road before her. The starting point of their journey. A huge container passes along State Bank Road, ‘FLAMMABLE MOTOR SPRIT’ painted on its sides. Sprit, spirit, what did it matter anyway? The message was clear. It reached me as all messages would on this journey. I would nearly have to reread them, then all would be clear. Language would take on new, richer meanings.

All three of them, Sri, Dewa and their daughter, Anna, had wanted this journey. Each had come in search of different things. Sri had taken a vow for his daughter some years back when she had been very ill and this vow he looked forward to fulfilling by making a pilgrimage to the great Meenakshi Amman Temple in Madurai. Sri was also looking for a place where he could finally find peace. Before his marriage he had had many uncertainties. To resolve his doubts he had wanted to go away to Kataragama for a period of quiet and meditation. He had gone there on so many pilgrimages since childhood and had been inspired by the swamis and holy men who had relinquished the world and lived there, spending their time in meditation. The very thought of marriage had been daunting. To him it meant the end of a carefree student life, the taking on of new responsibilities—being a householder, bringing up a family.

‘If you go away you will never make the decision to marry,’ Dewa had told him. ‘Remain here and grapple with your conflicts. Don’t run away from them.’