There are places I remember

When I was in my early twenties a number of forces conspired to draw me towards India. First of all there was the whole George Harrison/ Beatles/ Maharishi number. Then there was the prospect of cheap dope. Then, three girlfriends in a row decamped to India to practice yoga, tantra, charity, charras, levitation, or combinations of the above. I had many French friends at the time – who were variously coming and going to India. It was said that the “bread heads” became spiritual and the spiritual people got grounded. I didn’t want to change my life that much - but the stories of the mountains, the deserts, the monks, the saddhus and the beach parties at Goa piqued my interest. I sold what little i had (a camper van and a PA system) and went for however long it would take.

Long story. To cut it short - I had two near death experiences while I was there. The first occurred in the hill resort of Ooty (Udhagamadalam). I was living rough, i.e. in basic shacks built by enterprising peasants for hippies like me to stay in for something like 50 pence a night. One day it was too hot and I went swimming in bad water. I must have inhaled some. Went down with a huge bout of dysentery. I didn’t move out of my bed for four or five days. My fellow travelers made sure I had enough tea, eggs and porridge to keep my body fluids up. I was hallucinating (and hadn’t touched any weed for a week). One day (or night) I saw an angel at the foot of bed and she told me that she didn’t want me - yet –that I had things to do in my life. I slept and passed it off as a weird dream.

Six weeks later and back in a semblance of health I found myself in Rishikesh and just in time for the peak trekking season in the mountains. Met a German girl and we took a bus to Tehri and spent five days walking up mountain sides to Gangotri. With the confidence of youth we felt God was on our side – setting off on a 80KM hike with 8 litre army knapsacs, a blanket and a water bottle - this was the great adventure of our lives. We slept by the side of hot springs (so hot it was painful to immerse yourself in them), pilgrim's rest houses and on one night (the officer's quarters of) an army barracks (I kept a watch over my companion that night). We made it to Gangotri – the very source of the Ganges –surrounded by 8000M peaks. We watched in amazement as old widows from Calcutta walked 5 KM barefoot across a glacier to visit the temple at the head of the glacier that sustains their lives. There’s something about Hindu religion that is incredibly prescient about ecology. And if they can risk their lives then why not us? (OK forget the barefoot over ice bit - but keep the spirit of challenge)

So where to next? There’s another holy shrine five days walk from here. So off we set. More or less contouring through beautiful rhododendron forests, paths sparkling with iron pyrites, cliff sides dancing with spring glacial melt. Stone shiva lingams covered in fresh butter smeared there by young virgins - or at least barren wifes. Two days into this walk and we come across a landslide and Grinwald loses her footing and I catch her wrist and though I can hold her I am not strong enough to pull her back above the precipice (a very very deep drop). And here’s where the miracle happens. I’m shouting help, help and out of nowhere a saddhu comes dashing out of the forest and grabs Grinwald’s other wrist and together we pulled her to safety. All we can offer is a very humble apology. You saved her life. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Four weeks after that episode I had another bout of dysentery in Rishikesh –and decided that India wasn’t a healthy country for me and packed my bags –realising perhaps that I could no longer run away from where I came from – that I had to find a role there.

I kept in touch with Grindwald for a couple of years. She was picking grapes, crewing boats, whatever travelers do to keep afloat. I wonder where she is now? An earth mother with seven kids and an organic farm? Director of some prestigious development NGO? Washed off of a yacht and blown onto a beach somewhere on the Galagapos? I’m sure her saviour (and mine too – if I consider the potential for blackmail from an underpaid police force) is probably long away from this planet. Yet maybe saving someone’s life (and getting no more than a thank you for it) was his karmic duty / benefit. Bless you both.