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Rishikesh was one of the most beautiful yet also bleakly raw places I have lived, we found a small room on the Ghats (the wide steps that lead into the actual river itself that stretch along the banks of rivers within the towns of India) in those days there was very little paving on the road so when it rained it was filthy. We lived on the far side of the river away from the town so in order to get food and other supplies we needed to cross one of the foot swing bridges.

Monkeys were a problem, if you weren't careful to secure your hat, sunglasses, ice cream etc. they would be stolen from you by these cute fury rogues.

We settled into our new place, Hamid was a seasoned traveler so he could make a cardboard box look like home in no time, then we ventured out to eat and explore this mystical village at the foot of the mighty Himalayas. There were people everywhere, running tiny businesses and industries on the street and between buildings. Life was raw, even the holy men who in India are often completely naked, plied their trade (selling marijuana and other odds and ends or begging on the street) were busy at it.
 

Let me say here, some of the holy men, the most devout never came near the populated areas. We visited a few Ashrams along our side of the river but I felt less in tune than ever with what I saw there. Even though a lot of the monks and nuns were from the West and spoke English, I was happier in the streets struggling with my few words of Hindi.

It wasn't real in the Ashram's at least it seemed that way to me, I guess I related more to the people who had lived their lives by their wits as I had done before my marriage to Katrina. I also understood their grief, a high percentage of poorer Indians are disabled, it is often done purposely by their parents when they are babies so that they can beg more successfully. I related to the injustice of it all and felt that my early stroke was equally unjust.

I hadn't accepted my disability yet and my thinking about it was still fairly warped, though I had pulled myself out of the funk and learned to walk, I still held onto the sadness of the great loss of my youth and my beautiful body so quickly and all at once.

One of the outstanding things I experienced in Rishikesh was when an old man moved in under our building, unbeknownst to me at the time this old Indian was about to teach me something about one of my big life questions. He was obviously not well, he was naked except for a dirty piece of white cotton he used as a loin cloth and he lay there day and night on an old cardboard box in the shadows under the footings of the building.

He had come to the Ganges, or Ganga as he called his holy river, to die. We fed him rice twice a day and brought him fresh water. He was so happy, he had made it to the spot on which he would pass into his heaven and that accomplishment alone brought him great joy. Over the next few days he got weaker and he couldn't, in the end, even get himself to the river to do his daily ablutions and prayer. Eventually he passed, his face though even in death radiated his great joy, he hadn't been afraid, he had done all that was necessary to prepare and had died a happy man.

I realized then that faith was a powerful thing, it didn't matter what the content of your beliefs were, only that you had them and were faithful to them. That evening the old mans body was burnt on a pyre not 20 feel from where he had laid down to die.

It was perfect, I was made starkly aware by the lack of family or friends around him that we come into this world alone and leave it the same way.

In Rishikesh we met a Brahman teacher and his beautiful wife, we spent a lot of time with them listening to stories and eating the best Indian food you ever saw. I can't say the Hindi religions rubbed off on me but my exposure to them increased my faith in the Spiritual passtimes I had been developing in my own life. I realized the Oneness of everything, my experiences with the people I was meeting and sharing time with I saw that no matter what our religion there are certain universal truths that cross all barriers. I had come to see the distinction between religious belief and Spiritual understanding or awareness.

It was time to return to Australia, I brought Hamid along with me and helped him become a citizen, he had almost had to accept refugee status in order to remain outside Iran in India and he didn't want to go back so it seemed the next natural step to assist him after the great service he had done me.

Upon my return I suffered reverse culture shock, everything was so clean and sterile, people, even in Australia were so artificially distant from one another. I almost returned to India but something came up...