The strength of Indian culture

Recently I was in Rishikesh, the city of sages and the divine. I was with a few friends on a tour of rafting and campaigning. Our day started at a resort that was named after the sacred river that flowed sweeping its backyard- ‘The Ganga’. The golden beams of the breaking dawn entered our bedroom and for the first time in the entire season I witnessed the glory of the rising sun. The effect was miraculous, I felt extremely energized and lively.

As I opened the large window nature engulfed me in itself. It flowed in and diffused in the entire place, making it merrier. Down in the lawn were health conscious people practicing the art of yoga and a few yards away on the Ghats some were taking dips in the holy water. There were people recognizable from numerous parts of the nation. There were Tamils with horizontal tilaks, there were men from Nepal with slant eyes, a few North Indians, some Gujratis with big turbans and also a few foreigners. The blondes were the only ones whose place of origin I could not judge; perhaps they were Americans or French or may be Spanish!

On my desk was the day’s scheduled that included a yoga class (ongoing), breakfast at the resort (an hour later), rafting (at ten) and then the lunch (past mid-day). The evening was planned for snacks and the night was at the camps on the beach with a special essence of a bonfire.

We marched into the restaurant and took a table, waiting for the food to be served. People kept coming in from the main door and soon the room was full. A foreign couple stood at the door with eyes battering all over the place to locate an empty seat. I waved my hand at them and they came along without a long thought. My friend vacated the opposite side of the table for them and we managed three on a seat of two. ‘Shukriya!’ she said, in our local dialect. It sounded sweet and different from their mouth. We smiled and she extended a hand ahead. We shook it turn by turn and introduced ourselves. After us she told her name, ‘Sarah’ and smiled so broadly that it perplexed us over our hospitality. Then a moment later her friend proceeded with the same rituals and introduced himself as ‘Lincon’.

‘You’re Spanish?’ one of us asked.

‘No, Americans.’

‘Have you learnt Hindi?’ another friend of mine asked.

‘Still trying to learn, but we know a little bit,’ and then he spoke a few words and ended with an over-stressed ‘theeek haey?’ in his American accent.

We smiled and they too took their turns looking at each other and smiled back. Our conversations then went from their mother land to our freedom fighters, from Obama to Modi; from the World Bank to the Reserve Bank. When asked about their experience in India they said that they felt at home, safe and secure. The best aspect of India is that it runs a hundred cultures and traditions, giving optimum variety to the practitioner to choose from. It is a land of stories, a birthplace of legends and a community of sages.

In a matter of minutes we all shared a lot and their open minds accepted everything without a doubt. We talked of the practice of eating with hands and discussed the philosophy of acupuncture associated with it and how it results in sharpening the memory. They liked it all!

They showed us their travel schedule, had already roamed South and the West and were in their final days enjoying Uttarakhand, before their Visa expired.

As we moved out of the restaurant taking bites of our ice-creams I asked them, ‘What brings you to India?’ ‘That,’ they both pointed out together towards the sacred river, ‘We’re here to take 108 holy dips in it and will carry a bottle of its sacred water to The States. I had read about the river years back and ever since I have desired to take a bath in it.’

Their answer astonished us and their faith in our culture amazed us. For some India is a land for sustenance and merchandise; for others it is a land of stories, beliefs, practices, cultures and divine powers and that is what pulls them to our motherland from miles away.

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