Trimbakeshwar

On my second day in Nasik, I decided to venture 30km out to Trimbakeshwar. Although not featured in the Ramayana, It is the location where one of the four drops of nectar fell from heaven, onto earth. The other three being Allahabad, Haridwar and Ujjain, the locations of the Kumba Mela. It is also one of the twelve jyotirlings in India.

I knew a rickshaw would not take me the 30km, and I knew a taxi would be expensive, so asking my hotel, I was informed that I could take a bus which ran every 30 minutes and would take me straight there, for the unbeatable price of 30 rupees, or about 40p. Deciding the bus would be an experience, I opted to take it. In the morning my ride was quite pleasant. I had a seat, it was not too hot and I enjoyed the novelty of being on an Indian bus for what I think was the first time.

The surroundings of the temple were beautiful. A montainous backdrop, hosting an enchanting village, it felt as though the area had soaked up the energy the temple seemed to exude. Inside the temple, the security was, as always, frustrating, with cages lining the way, and guards keen to push you through to keep the queue moving, but the space itself brought a calm, that most places like this seem to.

The village of Trimbak was where I had decided to get some food. I entered a small restaurant and had chai, roti smothered with ghee and subzi. The restaurant was small and unpretentious, and the food was wonderful. It is amazing how it takes only the simplest of things to fill me with happiness, and I felt as though as I could have just sat in that restaurant for hours, soaking up all around me.

I wondered why I had not had this feeling before. Maybe it was the fact that I was just getting used to India, realising that I did not have to be in a familiar environment to be at ‘home’. Maybe I began to realise that home is not really one specific place, it is just where I felt most comfortable, and as long as I felt comfortable in myself, home could be anywhere. Maybe it was just that the food was really good.

Returning back, after an hour or so of daydreaming in the restaurant with a full stomach, I again took the bus. Getting on was itself a struggle. The famous ‘every man for himself’ notion was clear to see, with as many people forcing their way onto the bus as possible. There was an elderly lady next to me, and despite the fierce contest to get onto the bus, I couldn’t bring myself to push in front of her. However, just as I was about to move out of the way, she pushed me aside, probably sensing that my hesitation had left enough time for her to get on. It was not personal of course, or at least I hope not, just another day in India. She then dutifully climbed the stairs onto the bus. All I could do was laugh to myself, before beginning the crowded, hot, stuffy journey back.