It was a beautiful place with little huts surrounded by the garden. With beautiful flowers and bushes and trees surrounding the area. And then it started to rain and we ran to the shed, used the pathway which was covered to walk. I enjoy places like these when it rains. It makes me feel like I’m curled up under my blanket, protecting myself from the cold and rejoicing in the warmth of the blanket. I felt… safe and nostalgic when it rains.
I remember seeing this old dog. A black dog near the fire place. And I felt this energy emitting from the fire. It felt… old and mature. And there were pictures of His hanging on the walls and words scribbled in Hindi.
There was this hall, which had photos of all the well known Rishis and Yogis, covering and donning the simple hall which quite absurdly had no chairs or tables to sit. All we did was walk about the four corners of the hall, admiring the photos.
And then, from this hall, there was a pathway where it led to the main shrine. And we walked in and that’s when I felt the energy even stronger. Old, mature energy.
The thing was I couldn’t quite connect this energy with the one I had known. There was something mystical about this one compared to the one I’m familiar with. Something old… something nostalgic.
We paid our respects and we took the bus and made our way home.