

### Seeking Moksha in a Ford Fiesta

By Venkataraman Nilakant

Copyright 2014 Venkataraman Nilakant

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Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Prologue

In the Jungle

Disilluioned Saint

A Temple for Ram

Love in Raipur

Moksha in Kashi

Under the Bodhi Tree

Parasitic Panadas at Puri

Coming Home

About Venkataraman Nilakant

Other books by Venkataraman Nilakant

Connect with Venkataraman Nilakant

Acknowledgements

Many people made this book possible. I am grateful to Siva Shankar Baba for organizing and inviting me on the road trip. His continued support while writing the book was a great source of inspiration.

I wish to specially thank my wife, Jayashree, for her encouragement and support while writing the book. She was a companion in the road trip, read the draft chapters and offered comments.

I would like to thank Guna Sonamuthu, Saro Gunaseelan, Venkatesan Srinivasan and Latha Srinivasan for their help and support during the road trip.

I am grateful to Ravikumar whose car we borrowed for the trip.

Thanks to Anu Srinivasan in Melbourne for commenting on the draft chapters.

I am particularly grateful to Sangeethaa Nallanchakravarthy for her assistance in editing and proofreading the manuscript.

Prologue

Seeking Moksha in a Ford Fiesta is about an amazing 3,000-mile road trip through the heartland of India. Operating at multiple levels, the book is both about 21st century India at a cross roads and its ancient spiritual roots. The road trip is also the setting to explore issues relating to spirituality, particularly the idea of liberation (moksha) and bondage.

In January of 2014, I travelled to India from New Zealand with my wife to visit our spiritual mentor. Rather unexpectedly, we were taken on a ten-day road trip by him in a borrowed car with another couple from Malaysia. Starting from Chennai in South India, we travelled through Andhra Pradesh, Chhattisgarh, Madhya Pradesh, Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, Jharkhand and Odisha before returning to Chennai. We visited ancient cities and temples, meet interesting people and have mishaps on the way.

We also got lost in jungles, endured multiple breakdowns, were touched by the nobility of common folk, and got a first-hand experience of mysticism and the extraordinary spiritual heritage of India. I describe the hotels, the food and the astonishing serenity and beauty of parts of India untouched by economic development that they experience along the way.

We visited the ancient cities of Kashi, Gaya and Puri. I had a mind-blowing mystical experience at the ancient Shiva Temple in Kashi (Benares) and discovered from first-hand experience why Kashi is so special and sacred for the Hindus. We witnessed fiery-eyed devotees of Shiva in Kashi, watched Buddhist monks meditating under the Bodhi Tree in Gaya and encountered a horrible Hindu priest at the famous Jagannath Temple in Puri.

I see 21st century India at a cross roads. Poor governance, rampant corruption, poor roads, awful infrastructure, environmental pollution, extremes of wealth and poverty raise questions about India's progress since it independence from British rule in 1947. There is widespread cynicism but also a clamour for change. There is optimism among the people as the country is poised for change in government.

The book is also about the challenges that a genuine spiritual mystic faces in 21st century India. At the start of the trip, our spiritual mentor was disillusioned because he felt that there are few takers for what he genuinely wants to give – how to attain liberation from worldly life and be happy. People are more interested in material wealth, marriage partners, children, jobs, promotion, better health and a comfortable life.

The book is also his practical spirituality that is refreshingly modern yet rooted in the ancient wisdom traditions of India.

A couple of disclaimers are in order.

First, Siva Shankar Baba has had no influence over the content of the book. The views and opinions expressed are solely mine.

Second, the book is not an endorsement of the products of the Ford Motor Company, which I am sure, is a fine company that doesn't need my endorsement.

**1**. **In the Jungle**

It is nearly midnight of 3rd of January, 2014. It is absolutely dark outside. On a cloudless night, the clear star-studded sky looks absolutely awesome. We are still on the road, crawling around 30 kilometres per hour. We were supposed to reach our destination around 8 pm. We have no idea where we are and how far we have to go. Guna is driving the car - a 1.4 litre, diesel-powered Ford Fiesta Classic. The poor guy has been driving for more than ten hours, with occasional toilet stops. He is doing very well, navigating the car carefully through a dirt track liberally peppered with pot holes and boulders. There is no one else on the road, except for an occasional truck lurching along the dirt track with its headlights blazing on full beam. We seem to be in some kind of a forest. It is eerily silent outside. Occasional fleeting shadowy forms seem to be peering at us from behind the trees but we are not sure if there is anyone out there.

Babs is in the front seat. He seems lost in contemplation. Saro, Jayashree and I are in the back. Strangely, we feel very secure, oblivious to our surroundings. Guna has driven in India before, but mostly in south India on regular roads. He has just retired as a general manager from ExxonMobil in Dubai, where he probably drove a Mercedes on six-lane highways. He now lives in Malaysia with his lovely wife Saro. It is really Babs' fault that we are on that dirt track. Earlier during the day, as we were departing, he was advised not to travel on that route. Babs was uncharacteristically dismissive, insisting that this would be a shorter route. Of course, none of us want to bring that up now. We are his guests and, besides, Babs has travelled more than the three of us put together. He has probably gone around India a few times. He has visited Badrinath/Kedarnath more than 30 times, been to Mount Kailash about 12 times, seen almost all the countries in the world, been to the Arctic and has even flown over the Antarctic. He is a freak.

Initially, it seemed Babs was right because we were on an asphalt road that seemed reasonably fine but it ended abruptly and morphed into the dirt track on which we are traveling now. Babs can't really be faulted because the dirt track is one of India's national highways, the NH 221.

NH 221 stretches for about 330 kilometres, connecting Vijayawada in Andhra Pradesh to Jagdalpur in Chhattisgarh. The highway is 155 kilometers long in Andhra Pradesh. It runs north through Tiruvuru, Kottagudam, Badrachalam and Nellipaka in Telengana before entering Chhattisgarh past Chinturu. We left Badrachalam a little after noon and are heading towards Jagdalpur. Babs can't really be faulted for thinking that it is a shorter route. If you went on Google Maps and typed Badrachalam to Jagdalpur, the geeks at Google tell you that the distance is 257 kilometres and assure you that it can be covered in four hours and 25 minutes in a car, without traffic. They are right about the traffic. There is none. What they probably don't know is that there is a 78 kilometer stretch of NH 221 connecting Konta on the Telengana-Chhattisgarh border with Sukma in the Dantewada district of Chhattisgarh that is only a dirt track. And they are probably unaware of the fact that Dantewada lies in one of the most troubled parts of India - the infamous Red Corridor.

The Red Corridor is a region in the eastern part of India covering parts of Bihar, Chhattisgarh, Jharkhand, Madhya Pradesh, Odisha, Telangana, Uttar Pradesh and West Bengal states. It is characterized by greater levels illiteracy and poverty compare to the rest of India. It experiences what the Indian government quaintly refers to as left-wing extremism. According to the estimates of India's premier intelligence agency called the Research and Analysis Wing, there are about 20,000 Maoist-insurgents engaged in armed conflict with the Republic of India. The Maosits are allegedly fighting the evil consequences of liberalization, privatisation and globalisation. Over a ten year period, around 10,000 people have died as a result of the conflict. Another 150,000 have been rendered homeless. The Prime Minister of the country in 2006 described the Maoist insurgency as "the single greatest threat to the country's internal security," even greater than Islamic terrorism.

According to one estimate, the Red Corridor covers about 40 percent of India. The government, however, claims that it only affects 83 of India's 640 districts. In 2009, the Indian government launched an "Operation Green Hunt." Newspapers carried sensational stories almost daily about "successful operations" against the militants. Pictures of suspected militants strung up on bamboo poles with their captured caches of arms and ammunition were published. Many of the dead were probably civilians, and the harsh tactics seem to have polarized the local population because the Maoist militants continue to enjoy local support.

The Indian government has deployed more than 285,000 personnel from the Central Reserve Police Forces (CRPF) along with another 100,000 from other para-military forces. The Maoists seem better organised and motivated. They are killing a soldier every three days. Meanwhile CRPF soldiers seem to be killing themselves. Official data from the Indian government shows that 536 CRPF personnel committed suicide in the last five years. Ironically, that is about one soldier every three days. Clearly, despite superior numbers, the Indian government effort is faltering.

Chhattisgarh is seen as the epicentre of the conflict. In 2013, about 250 Maoist insurgents attacked a convoy consisting of political leaders of the Indian national Congress in the Darbha valley of Sukma district. They systematically slaughtered 28 people including some prominent politicians. In fact, the attack took place on NH 221 - the very road on which we are traveling. According to _India Today,_ the stretch of road we are traveling, "is dotted with rebel strongholds like Chintanlar, considered the Maoist capital, and Jagargonda, which is almost completely cut off and surrounded by thick forests. This region is a favourite spot for rebels who often plant improvised explosive devices on the roads to target security forces." We learn later that the dirt track on which we drove may have had land mines planted under it. However, on the midnight of January 3, 2014, we are blissfully unaware of what lies underneath us.

Earlier in the night around 7 pm, as soon as we enter Chhattisgarh, the road which had been reasonably fine till then deteriorates into the dirt track. Unsure of what lay ahead, we stop next to what appeared to be a row of shops by the roadside. There is a man in one of the shops speaking on a mobile phone. It is hard to tell as it is dark. Babs shouts to him in Hindi, "Yeh road kab sudharega (When will this road become better)?" The man shouts back, "Jab chief minister marega (When the chief minister dies)." Clearly, there is not much love and affection for the chief minister in those parts. I am not surprised that they have a problem with Maoist insurgency. The infrastructure sucks. 66 years after independence, India which has aspirations to be an economic super power cannot provide decent roads for its people.

Babs decides to keep going. That is a trait of Babs I admire. He never turns back.

It is now well past midnight. Guna is getting pretty tired and stressed. I am secretly grateful that he is doing the driving. The driving conditions are absolutely atrocious. Babs suggests a toilet stop. Babs, Guna and I head for the trees. Saro and Jayashree haven't had a toilet break. There were no decent toilets for the women on our route. Babs suggests that they go behind the bushes. Like half the women of India, Saro and Jayashree fertilize the soil for the good people of Chhattisgarh behind a bush in the open under a wonderful star-lit sky. 66 years after independence, India can't provide decent toilets either. We get back into the car, relieved and contented. Guna starts the car and we crawl for another half an hour.

And then the inevitable happens.

We have a flat tyre.

The car suddenly lurches to one side and we know immediately the left front tyre has had a puncture. Now I know that we are in a full-fledged emergency situation. The women are beginning to get anxious. There is no one on the road. Guna's stress level goes up several notches. But Babs remains unperturbed. I am beginning to wonder how hard it would be change the tyre under those conditions. The spare tyre is buried under our bags in the boot. We would have to empty the boot in any case. We need light. Luckily, I am carrying a torch in my bag. Jayashree and I have survived more than 30 high-intensity earthquakes in New Zealand between 2011 and 2013. We are a little more resilient. We see a distant truck approaching in the opposite direction. Jayashree suggests to Babs that we ask for help. Babs says that it is a good idea. Both of them stand in the middle of the road and frantically signal the driver. Mercifully, the truck stops. Babs asks him for help in changing the tyre. The man in the truck wants to know why Babs is traveling on that road with women. Babs tells him that we were not expecting the road to be so bad. Meanwhile another truck is approaching us on our side. It stops and a couple of men get down and approach us. The truck driver who is on the opposite side asks them to help us as he is in a hurry. He says he has a long way to go. The two men in the truck behind us offer to help.

Frantically, the rest of us begin clearing the boot. I retrieve my torch and it is absolutely priceless in those conditions. I am grateful to the earthquakes. We stack the bags in the front and back seats. Guna brings the jack out and instructs the men how to use it. Having been in ExxonMobile for many years, Guna knows all about cars and tyres. We take the spare tyre out and put it on the ground. I hold my torch while the men jack up the car. In the darkness at the back, Jayashree trips over the spare tyre on the ground and falls. She seems unhurt. The men seem pretty competent. They seem to know their job. Within minutes they have the flat tyre out. As they fit the spare tyre, we put the flat tyre in the boot and begin to reload the boot. Babs thanks the two men and offers them money. They refuse to take it.

Around midnight, on a dirt track in Chhattisgarh India, we encounter humanity among the common folk.

The men tell us that the area is not safe. They offer to follow us to ensure that we are safe. We get into the car and Guna begins to drive. He is quite stressed by the events. We are comforted by the headlights of the truck following us.

NH 221 to Jagdalpur goes through the Kanger Valley National Park in the Bastar division of Chhattisgarh. In the Hindu epic Ramayana, this region was part Dandakaranya. The word aranya is Sanskrit means forest. Dandakaranya was the forest abode of the demon Dandak. The original Ramayana was written by the sage Valmiki, who wasn't a sage to begin with. He was a dacoit, who turned into a sage. You could even say that he was an insurgent. Ramayana is about the trials and tribulations of Prince Ram, who is banished to the forest on the eve of his coronation as the King of Ayodhya. His wife Sita and brother Lakshmana accompany him. Ram, Sita and Lakshman spend 13 years in the Dandakaranya. Ram fights various shape-shifting demons and protects the sages in the forest. Sita is kidnapped by the demon Ravan from Dandakaranya and taken to Lanka, presumably the erstwhile Sri Lanka. Ram and Lakshman go in search of her, enlist the support of a monkey army, discover that Sita is in Lanka, build a bridge to Lanka, and fight with a demon army of Ravan. With the support of Hanuman, Ram slays the demon Ravan and re-united with his wife, He returns victorious to Ayodhya, taking an aerial route. In Valmiki's version of Ramayana, Ram doesn't know that he is God till the end. I am thrilled that we are passing through Dandakaranya. I happen to believe that nothing ever happens by chance. I wonder what brings us to Dandakaranya and why we are there. I am sure there is some spiritual significance to our presence there but I have no idea what it is. I am sure Babs knows but it seems a little discourteous to ask him about this at 1 am in the morning.

Chhattisgarh is about 135,000 square kilometres in area and has a population of about 26 million people. The state is home to some of the most beautiful scenic places in India, particularly the Bastar region, which was once Dandakaranya. Jagdalpur, where we are headed, is the administrative headquarters of the Bastar region. Wikipedia describes it as being well known for "its greenery, lush green mountains, deep valleys, dense forests, streams, waterfalls, caves, natural parks, monuments, natural resources, herbs, exuberant festivity and peaceful solitude." Perhaps, the bit about peaceful solitude is a little exaggerated. 12 percent of forest reserves of Chhattisgarh are protected as national parks. These include the Kanger Valley National Park, Indravati National Park and Guru Ghasidas National Park. The state also boasts numerous waterfalls, including Chitrakote, Tiratgarh, Chitradhara, Tamra Goomar, Mandawa and Kanger Dhara waterfalls. Chhattisgarh is also home to the second longest natural cave in the world. The Kotumsar Caves are about 35 meters below ground level and stretch for about 1.4 kilometres. With so much scenic locations, the state should have been a haven for eco-tourism. But it attracts few tourists.

Chhattisgarh has the potential to be the economic engine of India. It produces about 20 percent of India's steel and cement. According to one source, it has the potential to generate 40,000 megawatts of thermal and hydro-electricity and can cater to the country`s power needs for at least 100 years. It is rich in mineral resources, including diamond, gold, iron-ore, coal, corundum, bauxite, dolomite, lime, tin, and granite. It is the sole tin-ore producing state in the country. According to an article in the American journal _Foreign Policy_ written by Jason Miklian, the Toyota Prius, Beijing's high-rise buildings and the Boeing Dreamliner are made with minerals dug up from Chhattisgarh. Together with Jharkand, another similar state in India, Chhattisgarh has an estimated US$ one trillion of mineral reserves. These two states should be rich like Switzerland or Singapore. Yet the people in these states are dirt poor.

According to the Indian census of 2011, the human development index of Chhattisgarh was the lowest of any Indian state. It has a high incidence of poverty. 80 percent of the population depends on agriculture for its livelihood. Only 27 percent of the population has access to closed toilets. Teledensity is less than ten percent compared to 100 percent in places like Delhi and Himachal Pradesh. The state has very poor road and rail links. The local population has not benefited at all from the vast riches that lie under its lands. Around one-third of the population of Chhattisgarh is made up of what the government refers to as "scheduled tribes." They are part of the 84 million indigenous population of India, also known as the adivasis. The land belongs to them but they are foreigners in their own land. In a hard-hitting article published in the Indian magazine _Outlook_ , Arundhathi Roy writes: "The Indian Constitution, the moral underpinning of Indian democracy, was adopted by Parliament in 1950. It was a tragic day for tribal people. The Constitution ratified colonial policy and made the State custodian of tribal homelands. Overnight, it turned the entire tribal population into squatters on their own land. It denied them their traditional rights to forest produce; it criminalised a whole way of life. In exchange for the right to vote, it snatched away their right to livelihood and dignity." It is not surprising that the Maoists enjoy support among the local population.

It is astounding that a state that is so rich in resources should have so many poor people. The reason for this is corruption and mismanagement. In its eagerness to catch up with the rest of the world, India has confused industrialization with development. It is not possible to industrialize if you don't have modern political structures that ensure justice and fairness. The Maoist insurgency started as a noble cause to redress grievances relating to poverty, lack of justice and marginalization of people. However, somewhere along the way, the Maoists seem to have got corrupted like everyone else. They now extort money from businessmen and mine owners. The politicians, bureaucrats and the Maoists form an unholy alliance that is parasitic, siphoning off the resources of the state for personal and political gains. Between them, they have managed to ravage the land and its people.

In August, 2011, a Canadian newspaper _Toronto Star_ carried a news item about the lack of a proper road for the 78 kilometre stretch on NH 221 connecting Sukma and Konta. It alleged that the contract for building the road was awarded to a company called Superbuild India owned by a Canadian national called Mir Ali. Mr. Ali deposited $4 million as bank guarantee and Superbuild India began work. But armed men attacked and assaulted workers. They also torched the equipment. Superbuild's contract was subsequently terminated. Mr Ali alleged that he approached the Minister for Public Works, who demanded $1 million as bribe. The minister and the local officials denied the allegations. They, in turn, alleged that there were murky deals between various contractors. It is difficult to know who is telling the truth. Dandakaranya is still filled with shape shifting demons in the form of a corrupt bureaucracy, politicians, police and violent Maoists. During the Ramayana period it was easy to distinguish between the good guys and the bad guys. It is not easy any more.

It is sad that nothing much has changed about Dandakaranya since the Ramayana days. 21st century Dandakaranya awaits its Ram.

The long hours of driving in an unfamiliar terrain and the flat tyre are beginning to take a toll on Guna. He is really tired. Babs suggests that he rest while I take over the driving. I can't think of many people in this world who could induce me to drive a car around midnight through the infamous Red Corridor in Chhattisgarh, India. In fact, I can't think of anyone, except Babs. He is my best friend. If your best friend asks you to drive, you don't give excuses about leaving your driving license in New Zealand. You don't even mention the little inconvenient truth that you have never driven a car in India. You just get into the driver's seat, put on the seat belt, turn on the ignition and give it a go, which is what I proceed to do.

I get into the driver's seat while Guna climbed into the back seat. I told Babs that I had a car ritual that I dutifully performed each morning before starting my car in New Zealand. Babs didn't seem to mind. My car ritual is just a prayer to all the saints that I respect and admire. I have met some of them face-to-face. Babs is one of them. I find it amusing praying to Babs while I am sitting right next to him. I wonder if he even knows. Once the car ritual is over, I check out the controls. I am relieved that it has manual transmission. I am not particularly fond of cars with automatic transmission. I switch on the engine and ease the car forward. It handles well, although it feels under-powered. It is the first time I am driving a diesel-powered car and seems a little sluggish. It is not as zippy as my 1.8 litre Honda Civic in New Zealand but I like the feel of the car. You can't fault Ford. They make good cars. My goal is to deliver our group safely to a hotel in Jagdalpur. I have no idea how far we have to go. Driving conditions are atrocious. Guna has done extremely well driving under those conditions. The road, which is really a dirt track, is just a random array of ditches and rocks. I have to navigate the car carefully through these because we have a new problem.

We don't have a spare tyre. We can't afford another breakdown.

I can feel Jayashree beginning to feel anxious about my driving because she knows that I have never driven in India, However, within a few minutes of driving, I am beginning to feel more confident and light-headed. In fact, my spirit begins to soar. I am driving a car with my best friend sitting next to me. I am filled with warmth and affection for him. Around 1 am in the morning of January 4th, 2014, on NH 221 in Chhattisgarh, India, I feel that life is good. I like the car. I am pleased that Babs chose this route. He is a dare devil but I love his freakishness. I am happy that he asked me to drive. I can't think of anyone who would entrust me with driving in India. I feel anything is possible as long as Babs is beside me. As if echoing my feelings, the road actually starts to get better. There are stretches without ditches or boulders. When I see a clear stretch, I hit the accelerator. I am really beginning to enjoy driving in India. We encounter a few trucks coming in the opposite direction. When I dip my lights, they are surprisingly courteous, dipping their lights in return. I can feel a bond developing between us - drivers of the night. I also notice that the truck that seemed to have following us has disappeared. I have no idea where it went because it didn't pass us. Soon we leave the dirt track behind and are on an asphalt road.

My destination is Hotel Suri International. Luckily, it is on the main road and we are able to locate it. I park in the empty space in front of the hotel around 3 am in the morning. I don't expect valet parking at that time of the day. As I switch off the engine, I am beginning to like the car. You really need a four-wheel drive for the driving conditions in rural India but the Ford Fiesta has held up pretty well.

Funnily, it doesn't belong to any of us nor is it a rental car.

Inside the hotel, I am surprised that there is someone in the reception. Babs tells us to take it easy and not aim for the usual early morning start. No one has the heart to tell him that it is already early morning. We plan to leave Jagdalpur around mid-day after getting our flat tyre fixed. By the time we check into our rooms it is 3:30 in the morning. In the room, Jayashree discovers that she has cut herself below the knee when she tripped over the spare tyre and fell on the road. Her dress is soaked in blood. She is pretty stoic about it. She says she didn't want to create a scene when we were in the car. I am happy that my first driving experience in India was without a mishap. I am pleased that we made it to the hotel safely. It occurs to me that we have just passed through Dandakaranya without encountering any demons. We didn't see any of the Maoists or the security forces. Traveling through the Red Corridor, we have arrived at Jagdalpur unscathed.

Perhaps Ram was with us.

2. Disillusioned Saint

If you live in New Zealand as I do, you are pretty much far away from everything. Australia is about 3 hours away by flight. It takes nearly 11 hrs to fly from Christchurch to Singapore. On Christmas day, in the morning of December 25, 2013, Jayashree and I are in the departure lounge of the Christchurch International Airport, waiting to board the Singapore Airlines flight, SQ 298. The tickets were booked on-line six months earlier. Despite this, we are able to get reservation for return flights only on Christmas day. It is peak season for traveling to Asia. I email Babs in July informing him of our visit. He responds to the email but doesn't acknowledge the visit, which is rather unusual. But I choose to ignore it, not wishing to remind him of our visit again. We have been listening to Babs' speeches posted on the Internet almost daily. Babs seems upset and slightly bitter in his speeches before December. After the first week of December, his speeches stop appearing on the Internet. There have been no photos of him uploaded on Facebook after the beginning of December. In the first week of December, he simply disappears. No one seems to know where he has gone.

The flight to Singapore is full. The passengers seem restless. Uncharacteristically for Singapore Airlines, the vegetarian food we had ordered is bad. I can't be bothered with the in-flight entertainment. My mind is preoccupied with Babs. I am not particularly looking forward to the visit to India. Babs is the only reason we visit India every year. I have no close relatives or friends there. The prospect of spending three weeks in India without Babs doesn't appeal to me. Jayashree is equally disappointed.

We arrive in Singapore in the evening of December 25, 2014. We had decided on a stopover in Singapore. We gather our bags and get through immigration and customs. We have to wait for a while before our shuttle bus to the hotel arrives. It is nearly 8 pm by the time we arrive at the hotel, which is close to Little India. We walk down to Little India for dinner in a well-known South Indian restaurant there. By the time I finish dinner, I feel completely exhausted. The restless energy in the plane seems to have drained me. We get back to the hotel and I crawl into the bed.

I get up early next morning, completely refreshed. By 8 am we are out of the hotel. We decide to check out the Hindu temples in Singapore. We walk to the Kali temple, which is just next to the hotel. After morning prayers, we have a delightful South Indian breakfast in the same restaurant that we visited the night before. We take the MRT to Chinatown and walk down to the Sri Mariamman Temple. It is the oldest Hindu temple in Singapore built in 1827 by one Naraina Pillai. Mr Pillai was clerk in the East India Company which had set up a trading settlement in Singapore in 1819. The original temple site had to be changed twice before the present site was allotted for the construction of a Hindu temple in 1823. It took Mr Pillai nearly four years to build a simple temple made of wood and palm leaves. He installed a small statue of the South Indian Goddess Mariamman who is worshipped mainly in rural South India for protection against diseases. The temple has undergone several alterations since then. Most of the present structure dates back to 1862-63. The six-tier entrance tower called the gopuram was constructed in the 1960s. Apart from shrines for Ram, Murugan (Karthikeya), Durga and Ganesh, the temple also has a shrine for Draupadi - the wife of the five Pandava brothers in the Hindu epic Mahabharatha.

We take the MRT from Chinatown to Dhoby Gaut and walk down to Waterloo Street. There is a Krishna temple there. This was established in 1870 by one Hanuman Bheem Singh. The temple is located next to the Chinese Kwan Yin Thong Hood Cho Temple. Many Chinese devotees light joss sticks at the Krishna Temple as well. The management of the Krishna Temple, as a gesture of goodwill, had built a shrine for Kwan Yin, the Goddess of Mercy within the Krishna Temple grounds. After lunch at a local Subway, we return to the hotel in Little India.

Around 7 pm, we stroll down to the Perumal Temple on Serangoon Road. This temple dates back to 1855. Its 20-meter high gopuram was built in 1966. Both the Sri Mariamman and the Perumal temples are managed by the Hindu Endowments Board of Singapore. We are scheduled to meet Soundara Pandi, a young man whom we met in Babs' ashram in our previous visit. Soundara Pandi arrives a little late; he has had to travel a long distance. We take him to the Sri Vadapathira Kaliamman Temple on Serangoon Road. A female devotee placed a picture of the Goddess (Amman) under a Banyan tree and started worshipping her in 1830. The shrine was popular with people frequenting the place to collect water. Subsequent constructions, alterations and renovations resulted in the present structure. The main deity is called Sri Periyachi Amman. She is considered protector of children and women.

After offering prayers to Periyachi, we visit the Sri Raghavendra Centre on the same side of Serangoon Road. Sri Raghavendra was a Hindu saint, who was born as Sri Venkatanatha in a place called Bhuvanagiri, near the holy city of Chidambaram in South India in the late 16th century. He is buried in a place called Mantaralayam on the banks of Tungabhadra River on the border of Karnataka and Andhra Pradesh. The saintly Raghavendra is known to have performed many miracles. One of these concerns Sir Thomas Munro, who was the Governor of Madras. In 1801, while serving as the Collector of Bellary, Sir Thomas Munro claimed that he came across the spirit of Saint Raghavendra who spoke to him in English. Sir Thomas recorded the incident in the Madras Districts Gazetteer.

Soundara Pandi is one of the nicest people you can come across anywhere. He is warm, generous, kind and a good-hearted person. Babs likes him. We take him to the newly started Mavalli Tiffin Rooms (MTR), an iconic restaurant from Bangalore. It has a rating of 4.5 out of 221 reviews on Tripadvisor. It serves "pure, vegetarian, authentic South Indian food." I personally think it is a little over-rated but Jayashree and Soundara Pandi enjoy the simple South Indian fare. We talk about Singapore, Soundara Pandi and Babs. Soundara Pandi wants me to hug Babs on his behalf. I am not sure if I would be meeting Babs at all but I don't want to disappoint him. I promise to convey his hug. We see him off at the bus station and return to the hotel. There is a message waiting for us from Jayashree's friend Ganga, who lived in New Zealand with her husband, Ganesan, briefly in the 1990s. Ganga and Ganesan arrive shortly and we are whisked off to their house. Ganesan is the accountant for the Hindu Endowments Board. We meet their lovely daughters and catch up on the intervening years since they left. By the time they return us to the hotel, it is nearly mid-night.

Next morning, Ganga and Ganesan arrive at the hotel to take us to more temples. We visit Senpaka Vinayagar Temple, built by the Tamils from Ceylon in the 1850s. It is administered by the Singapore Ceylon Tamils Association. The temple was damaged by a bomb in the Second World War but like other Hindu temples in Singapore, has undergone several alterations and renovations. Next we go to Sri Thendayuthapani Temple. This was built in 1859 and underwent renovations subsequently It is also called Chettiars' temple because Nattukottai Chettiar community built it.

Finally, we come to the Sri Ruthra Kaliamman Temple on Depot Road. This temple started as a small shrine in 1913 in a wooden building in the grounds owned by Alexandra Brickworks on PasirPanjang Road. The land was sold to Port of Singapore Authority. The temple management committee was paid $260,000 as compensation to move the temple out of the premises. The temple management paid nearly $200,000 for the present site, where a new temple was constructed in 1987 at a cost of $2.7 million. The temple also provides executive lunch at nominal rates. Thanks to Ganesan, we partake the sumptuous executive lunch served on banana leaf.

There are about 35 temples serving Hindu community comprising about 4% of Singapore's 5.3 million people. We managed to see seven temples in less than two days. I am pretty impressed with the Hindu temples in Singapore. They are well-managed, neat and clean. The migrant Tamil community has managed to preserve religious traditions and values for more than 200 years.

We return to the hotel a little past the check-out time but are able to check-out without much fuss. We wait in the lobby for the Singapore Stopover shuttle to take us to the airport. The lobby is filled with mostly Indians, either waiting to check-in or leave for the airport. We chat with a young newly-wed couple from India who are on their honeymoon. Most visiting Indians are less interested in temples and more interested in shopping. I have to thank Babs for introducing me to the idea of temple visits. Before I met him, I wasn't particularly interested in temples, although I dutifully accompanied Jayashree, if she wanted to visit one. I was, however, very much into spirituality and God since 1994. My mind begins to wander towards my first encounter with Babs as we leave for the airport to take the flight to Chennai.

Thanks to Jayashree, in 1994, I become a devotee of Sri Sathya Sai Baba, one of the most well-known Indian gurus. For 15 years, prior to meeting Babs, I was an ardent devotee of Sathya Sai Baba. I gave up meat and alcohol, becoming a strict vegetarian. I faithfully attended study circles, devotional singing sessions and service activities. Every couple of years, I visited Prashanthi Nilayam, Sathya Sai Baba's ashram in South India. I served as office bearer in the local Sathya Sai organisation in Christchurch. Jayashree ran Education in Human Values classes for children in our home

By 2009, however, my initial ardour and enthusiasm had waned. I experienced spiritual stagnation. I was beginning to feel disillusioned. In a rare moment of disloyalty, I openly expressed dissatisfaction with God. The next morning, we received a phone call from Perth from a couple we had met in 1994 informing us of Babs's visit to Christchurch. They wanted our help in buying provisions for cooking while they were in New Zealand. I hadn't heard of Babs and did not particularly think much about their visit. Despite my disillusionment, I was very loyal to Sathya Sai Baba and could not imagine becoming attached to some other spiritual teacher. Jayashree told me that Siva Shankar Baba, as Babs is known, was also a mahaan. She went to the local Indian store and bought provisions for the group travelling with Babs. She cooked vegetarian food and packed it in little plastic packets for the group. Then she told me to deliver it to them at the airport as my working hours were flexible.

Although I had no intention of switching loyalty from Sathya Sai Baba, I was also mildly curious about Babs's visit. I was aware that his visit coincided with my expression of disillusionment. Without knowing why, I bought a bottle of honey for him. I was perhaps secretly hoping that he would bring me some message to restore my faith in God. At the airport, there were a bunch of people waiting for him. When Babs emerged into the Arrival Lounge, I was both surprised and curious. He didn't look like an Indian spiritual guru at all. He was wearing slacks, t-shirt, and Ray-Ban sunglasses. Unlike most Indian gurus who are very serious, he was jovial and happy. A girl from Melbourne, Anu, went and hugged him. That was when he saw me. In that brief eye contact, he seemed intriguingly familiar.

When I was introduced to him, I expected him to be a little distant and haughty. But he was very friendly and seemed to lack any ego. There were more surprises to come. I told him that I was writing a book on the Indian Railways. He said that he could help me as he used to run a transportation business in India before becoming a saint. He seemed very knowledgeable about logistics and business. By now, my mild curiosity had transformed into full-blown interest.

I didn't want to hurt his feelings by telling him that I was an ardent devotee of Sri Sathya Sai Baba because I was beginning to like him. Instead, I told him that I was beginning to experience doubts about spirituality. He seemed to understand. What he said next completely blew me off my feet. He had been amiably chatting about transportation business and freight but now, without missing a beat, he said something very profound. He said: "Don't follow anyone; don't even follow me. Follow your heart, follow your conscience." That's when I felt that there was something very special about him. I saw him off on his trip to Queenstown and didn't expect to meet him again. When Jayashree returned from work that evening, she asked me about Babs. I told her that he seemed a very interesting guy and that I liked him a lot.

In the following days, I could not get him out of my mind. Jayashree suggested that we invite him to our home for dinner. I was not sure he would accept our invitation. I sent a text message to one of the people travelling with him and received a reply saying that Babs had accepted our invitation. Babs arrived with his group on a Saturday evening. He asked me to sit next to him and spoke briefly on spirituality. He went into trance twice, while speaking. We had dinner together and he invited us for breakfast next morning at the house that they had rented. Jayashree and I went there next morning and he performed a fire ritual called homam.

After breakfast, Babs travelled with us in my car to Akaroa, about 90 minutes away from Christchurch. He was very open and candid in talking about his past. Babs was originally in the transportation business. He was rich, owning a fleet of trucks, buses and vans. He was also the distribution agent for some well-known cosmetics manufacturers. He was married and had two children. In 1984, following a 'death experience,' he gave up his family and business. He went in search of God. For four years, he wandered around India with nothing more than a towel and a spare dhoti. In 1988, he returned to his family and re-started his business. He got his son and daughter married. In 1992, he started a spiritual organisation called Samratchana. But his family could not reconcile to his change of outlook. He left them in 1997 and devoted himself to full-time service of God. Babs moved his organization to a place called Neelankarai in Chennai in 1997. In 1999, a bunch of thugs hired by a self-proclaimed spiritualist set fire to his ashram in Neelankarai. Babs moved Samratchana to new premises in a place called Kelambakkam.

Babs struck me as a genuinely good man. We invited him for dinner again and, after some hesitation, he accepted. While everyone else was busy with the meal preparation, Babs and I had a heart-to-heart chat. He told me that he had helped five million people since 1988, when he first took to spirituality. He had prevented people committing suicide, made poor people rich, arranged suitable marriage partners for people, blessed people with children, and cured illnesses that could not be cured by modern medicine. Yet, he said, less than 5,000 had expressed any kind of gratitude. I asked him how he cured people. He said he didn't know; he prayed to God and they got cured. I believed him. Alone with him, face-to-face, he was not his jovial and funny public self. He was serious and seemed disenchanted. I remember feeling very disturbed by his disenchantment.

The following day, I went to the airport with him to bid him farewell. He repeatedly invited me to Chennai to visit him. He said he would take me to some spiritual places in India that I hadn't visited. I didn't take his invitation seriously. I thought he was just being courteous and polite. In the airport, he shocked me again by telling me that he prayed to God to relieve him of his earthly responsibilities as soon as possible. When he saw that I was shocked, he explained that he wished to die, not because he was unhappy, but because he was contented and fulfilled. God has treated me very well, he said.

Despite my staunch loyalty to Sathya Sai Baba, I found myself hugging Babs just before he left Christchurch. After he left, I reflected on the significance of his visit. Here I was feeling disenchanted and disillusioned when I hadn't done anything particularly significant for God. And there was Babs, treated pretty shabbily by almost everyone to whom he had done nothing but good, but still grateful to God. God seemed to tell me gently that I had a long way to go.

Later that year, when we visited Chennai, we decided to look him up in his ashram. I didn't expect him to be anything but mildly polite and courteous. He again confounded my expectations, taking us on a whirlwind tour of 20 temples in South India in two weeks at his expense. He refused to accept any money or donation from us. We met him shortly after this trip in Melbourne. I asked him what he would do differently if he had to start his spiritual life all over again. "I won't start an organisation", he replied. He said it was a big burden and something unnecessary for an enlightened saint or mahaan. The following year, when we visited him again just before Christmas, we arrived at the ashram a little late. He had been waiting for us to have lunch with him. He sent us again on another ten-day trip through Southern and Western India but this time we paid for the trip. We were deeply touched by his generosity, kindness, warmth and affection.

We visited him again during Christmas in 2011 and 2012. In June-July 2012, we joined him in Delhi and travelled with him to Haridwar, Rishikesh, Badrinath, Himachal Pradesh, Dharamshala, and Amritsar. He also took us to a couple of Bollywood movies in Delhi.

In 2011, Christchurch was hit by major earthquakes. Between 2011 and 2012, the city experienced more than 30 earthquakes higher than magnitude 5 on the Richter scale. One of these, in February 2011, killed 185 people and caused extensive damage. Around 1,000 buildings in the central business district and nearly 10,000 houses had to be demolished. Many houses lost electricity for a couple of weeks. Many people did not have water for many weeks; many did not have access to their toilets for months due to damaged sewer pipes. Surprisingly, we suffered no damage. We did not lose electricity, water or sewerage even for a second.

A chance encounter in 2009 blossomed into affection and friendship. I have often wondered why I like him so much. First, he has qualities I admire. He has a daredevil attitude, is not afraid to take risks, and is open and honest. Second, he is kind, compassionate, caring and willing to share everything. Third, I like his wacky sense of humour. But the real reason I am so fond of him is that he is goodness and love personified. He cannot harm anyone. If you trust him, he is always there for you. Whenever I think of him, he evokes the same feelings that I experience when I visit a Shiva temple. I experience benevolence, love and caring. I have never met Shiva personally but if I did I am sure he would resemble Babs. I also never had any close personal interactions with Sri Sathya Sai Baba. But in my mind, Sathya Sai Baba was very much like Babs - kind, loving and caring. But Sathya Sai Baba didn't have the same wacky sense of humour like Babs.

A lot of people were attracted to Sathya Sai Baba because he performed 'miracles.' He used to call them his calling cards. He could materialise rings, pendants, chains and sacred ash (vibhuthi) out of thin air. I personally know someone in Christchurch whose brain tumour was cured by Sathya Sai Baba in the 1980s. The person had been given only few months to live, by Harley Street physicians in London. He wasn't even a devotee of Sathya Sai Baba then. But Sai Baba blessed him because a friend of this man visited Prashanthi Nilayam and asked Sai Baba to cure him. The man is still alive. Babs doesn't perform any open miracles. He appears very casual. He is constantly pulling people's legs and joking. You can mistake him to be an ordinary person. He is anything but ordinary.

Anu and Karthik are a young couple that I met during Babs' visit to Christchurch in 2009. Anu first met Babs in 2000 when she got engaged to Karthik. Karthik is Babs' devotee. His father, referred to as 'telephone' Subramaniam in the ashram, is a long-time devotee of Babs. At that time, Anu wasn't religious or spiritual. She could not understand how people could be so attracted to Babs. Anu and Karthik had a number of arguments during their engagement period. They even began to wonder if they could marry and live together when their fundamental beliefs were so different. Anu visited the ashram on her birthday in 2001. Babs took her around the ashram. When they came to the main temple called Poorana Brahmam (totality), Babs just hugged her. In that instance, Anu was totally transformed. She came home, called Karthik and told him that she believed in Babs completely. She was mystified by this experience and could not explain what had happened. I can understand her because I know the feeling!

Babs was at Anu and Karthik's wedding briefly. Anu and Karthik moved to Melbourne in 2001. Anu was not keen to start on a job immediately. She took it easy for a while and then decided to apply for a job. The job market was tight. As she confesses, she did not have an elite business school background. She was from an average college in India. Yet within a week, she was offered a job by one of the 'Big Four' global consulting firms.

In 2002, disaster struck the blissful wedded world of Anu and Karthik. In early 2002, Karthik was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma. The chance of survival for anyone with this type of cancer is less than ten percent. Anu was shattered. She had been married to him for less than a year, been living in a new country for less than three months and had been in her new job for two weeks. She could think of only one person who could help her. Anu called Babs only to find out that he was busy watching one of the Harry Potter movies. Babs told her that he was watching a movie and asked her to call him back. A little distressed, she called him back again. All she wanted to know was if Karthik would get well. Babs told her that everything would be okay and told her not to worry.

In the same year, one of Anu's friends at work lost her husband who was of similar age to Karthik to the same type of cancer. Anu cried every single day that year while she cared for Karthik. When Anu's parents visited Babs in his ashram in India in 2002, Babs told them that Karthik was like his son. He assured them that Karthik would be cured before the end of that year. However, Karthik's white blood cell count continued to remain a concern for specialists with no medication aiding the situation. Anu and Karthik visited Babs in Chennai. Babs suggested that they visit the Kukke Shree Subrahmanya temple in Karnataka and perform a circumambulation. Anu and Karthik both performed the offering and returned to Melbourne to find out that Karthik's white blood cell count had miraculously returned to normal. As Babs had predicted, before the end of 2002, Karthik was completely cured.

The following year when Anu visited the ashram in Chennai, she prayed for ten seconds at the Poorana Brahmam temple for Karthik's good health. She then went to the dining hall where Babs joined them for lunch. He told a stunned Anu that he heard her prayers and that everything would be okay. In 2004, Babs advised Anu and Karthik to buy a house and settle down in Melbourne. They both own several houses in Melbourne now.

In 2006, Anu's sister was expecting a child. Babs appeared in her dream when she was a few months into her pregnancy and told her that she would be blessed with a baby boy. When she went into labour, Anu emailed Babs and asked for his blessings for the "least painful child birth ever." A few hours later, Anu's mother called her to tell her that her sister had delivered a beautiful baby boy after a quick and easy labour. Anu says that her mother struggled with poor health for years simply from lack of self-care. Her health has been good since the day Babs blessed her. She adds that her parents are at peace and happy knowing that both their daughters lead a happy life.

In 2011, Babs visited Anu and Karthik in Melbourne and stayed with them. It is unusual for him to stay at any one's home. The previous year when he had visited them, he stayed in a motel. During the 2011 visit, Babs fell ill and was in considerable pain. At the end of trip, Anu told him that she was upset that he had been unwell during the trip. Babs said: "There was some negative energy in this house and I wanted to clean it; that's why I have been sick".

Anu has also extended her prayers for others beyond her family. One of Anu's friends was in desperate need of a job after he was made redundant at work. He was the sole bread winner in his family with a wife and three children. He met Anu to get some tips on how to perform in a job interview that he had to attend. During the interview he was asked how he knew about concepts that he hadn't worked on before and her friend mentioned his preparation with Anu. He was told that he was successful in the interview because he mentioned Anu; the interviewer said that "he felt something that compelled him to make the job offer". Another 40-year old friend of Anu was desperate to start a family. Anu's silent five second prayer to Babs resulted in her friend falling pregnant that month; she delivered a beautiful boy.

I have met Anu and Karthik on a number of occasions since 2009, when I first met them in Christchurch. Anu says that her decision to stay in Australia for Karthik's treatment somehow felt right, despite knowing that she would have no family or friends or any support network. She says she only needed Babs by her side. She had complete faith in Babs and he always stood by her. He helped her cope with the ordeal. In the process, Anu says, she became a much stronger person with a deep meaningful bonding relationship with Karthik and a greater appreciation for life.

Babs also established a career for her, so that they were financially stable and able to handle the life threatening situation with the needed strength. Anu says that she started earning a six figure (Australian dollars) salary at the age of 25; she is in the top 4% (among nearly 1,500 employees) of senior leaders in a leading financial institution with almost 40,000 employees; she is one of the very few non-Caucasian and female senior leaders (around 2% or even less) in her organisation; she is in the top 7% of the Australian population tax payers. Anu and Karthik have travelled to 40 countries and all the seven continents, and to some places that aren't necessarily touristy and border on the dangerous. As any seasoned traveller would know, a million things could go wrong during travel such as delayed or cancelled flights, unstable weather, safety, health problems and so on. Anu and Karthik did not even face a minor disruption. "Babs", says Anu, "is our moral support and our only hope."

Anu's tale is only one among five million such tales. The only difference is that, while others have walked away after being helped, Anu has remained steadfast in her devotion. In the five years that I have known Babs, he has never mentioned once that he cured Karthik and helped Anu. It always astounds me that few people seem to develop faith in Babs. During my first visit to his ashram, I was so overwhelmed by his love that I prayed for his success and welfare in all the temples that we visited. I wanted to help him in his mission in some way. The only way I could think of helping him was to write a book on him. One of the temples we visited was in Karnataka. It is a temple built to honour the Goddess of wisdom and learning. In 2009, I asked for the Goddess's help in writing a book about Babs that would attract people to him. The book that you are reading now is the fourth one following that visit. Sadly, although the Goddess helped me write the books, few people seem to have read them. I have emailed copies of these books to friends and couriered hard copies at my expense. Other than a polite 'it is interesting' comment, no one has shown any serious interest in Babs.

My reverie about Babs is interrupted. We are about to land in Chennai. It is around 10 pm on December 27, 2013. We have booked accommodation online in a guest house in Gandhi Nagar, Adyar. We manage to find our way to the guest house without a mishap by around mid-night. The guest house seems neat and clean. Next morning, we check out the breakfast facilities. All the housekeeping and kitchen staff are from Nepal. They are grateful that they can converse with someone in Hindi.

After breakfast, we visit Jayashree's parents. The next day we visit the bank to withdraw cash and then go shopping for the clothes Jayashree wears in New Zealand. That day we have a serious discussion on what to do for the rest of our trip. Our return ticket to New Zealand is booked for 14th of January, 2014. I tell her we have to face the possibility that Babs may have gone for good. She says she is totally confident that he would return for us. Jayashree says that we should not burden him by depending on his hospitality. She suggests we spend a couple of days in the ashram till the New Year and then go on trips on our own. Although I can see sense in what she says, I am a little mystified by this suggestion. "Where do you want to go?" I ask her. "Let us go to Kashi", she says.

Jayashree has wanted to go to Kashi, also known as Benares, for a long time. I had been resisting the idea. Kashi seems like another dirty, over-crowded Indian city full of charlatans who want to rip you off. But I don't want to disappoint her. I agree to her suggestion.

In the morning of December 30th, I call Janaki at the ashram to inform her that we would be there in the afternoon. She is the administrator at the ashram and seems overjoyed to get my phone call. She tells me that Babs is back. We experience an immediate sense of relief, excitement, joy and curiosity - all mixed into one dizzy emotion.

We arrive in the ashram in the afternoon. I meet Janaki in her office near the entrance to the ashram. She directs someone to take us to our room. We have been given accommodation in a new hotel that Babs has built that year. It is called Animal Planet. The rooms seem to have an animal or a bird theme. We are in the Owl room. The room is posh with en suite facilities. It is tastefully decorated. As we check the facilities, I am struck by Babs's sense of style and humour. Janaki informs us that Babs would meet us in our room shortly. Jayashree and I can't contain ourselves. We go out into the road to greet him. We see a figure approaching at a distance. It is a man with a shaved head and a beard. Surely this can't be Babs, I think. This is not the guy in a t-shirt, jeans and Ray-Ban glasses I had seen in 2009.

It is Babs. He also seems to have lost a lot of weight. We are shocked. I am so overcome with emotion that we fall at his feet. Jayashree and I hug him. Babs looks like an ancient sage that has just emerged from his Himalayan cave after years of penance and meditation But he is the ever so perfect host. He asks us if we are comfortable in our room. He is his usual jovial self. He takes us to the restaurant next to the hotel. He orders tea and snacks for us. I tell him that we missed him. He says that he had planned to take off, go to North India and become an itinerant monk. He said that he felt there were negative forces targeting him by using him as a pretext to malign the ashram. He said he decided to remove himself from the scene so that his ashram did not get affected.

In the first week of December, Babs tells us, he asked someone to drop him at Bangalore. He planned to take a train to North India. However, he says, you can't get a train or bus ticket without proper identification such as a driver's licence. Babs had not taken any with him. Realizing that he couldn't go to North India, Babs asked someone else in Bangalore to drop him off at the bus stand. Babs says he took a bus to a place called Chitradurga, about 200 kilometres from Bangalore. He went to a temple there, shaved his head and meditated. After a while he took a bus from there and arrived in Thekkady, about 700 kilometres away in the border of Tamilnadu and Kerala. Babs has a guest house there. The residents in his guest house could not recognise him as he had also grown a beard by this time. He stayed in the guest house for a couple of weeks without informing anyone in his ashram. The lady in charge of the upkeep of the guest house gave him simple food twice a day. Babs meditated each day for 14 hours. Babs says he also wrote a book on Christ.

Babs tells us he decided to return for the Christmas and New Year celebrations as a number of people like us were visiting the ashram from overseas. He doesn't ask us about our plans. I don't tell him about our plan to visit Kashi. We attend his nightly satsangh at the Poorana Brahmam temple. We catch up with friends at the ashram. After returning to our room, Jayashree and I decide to stay at the ashram till the 2nd of January and then leave with Babs's permission to go to Kashi by ourselves.

Next morning, we are up early. We visit the Ganesha and Durga temples in the ashram and finally land up once again in the Poorana Brahmam temple. At the Durga temple, I am accosted by Praveena. She is a young woman who became Babs's devotee after he helped her to elope to United States and get married. In gratitude, at the age of 23, she donated her entire annual salary to Babs - a grand sum of US$ 90,000. Babs eventually returned the amount to her but in the process built a hospital and named it after her. Praveena wants me to help her compose an English song for New Year celebration. I like Praveena. Like Anu, she is so mature and sensible for her age. Jayashree, Praveena and I write and compose a song. It has a refrain that goes: "Fill me with you; melt me in you; Shankaram Siva Shankaram." I am quite pleased with the song. We also gather a group of volunteers to sing the song.

New Year celebrations in Babs's ashram start around 8 pm on December 31st. The Poorana Brahmam temple is quite crowded. Jayashree and I sit on the steps among the crowd. Babs arrives around 8:30 pm. He is smartly dressed for the occasion. He greets people that have come from overseas to see him. Guna and Saro are there with their beautiful daughter. Guna is completely overcome with emotions on seeing Babs.

Babs spots me in the crowd and beckons me. I run up to him eagerly. "Be ready on the morning of January Second", he says, "we will go a trip to North India". "Okay", I reply, a little nonplussed. "When do you have to return to New Zealand?" he asks. I tell him that our return trip is booked for the 14th of January. "No problem, we will be back by then", he says. He tells me that if we are unable to return by car, he would put us on a flight to Chennai from North India so that we don't miss our flight to Singapore. I am completely mystified now.

"Where are we going?" I ask Babs.

"Let us go to Kashi," he says.
3. A Temple for Ram

The New Year is heralded in a grand manner in Babs' ashram, Ramarajya. I have attended every New Year celebration in Ramarajya since 2009. Babs usually gives a soul-stirring speech on New Year's Eve. Around midnight of Dec 31, he blesses all and wishes them another Happy New Year. Festivities begin early on the New Year's Day on January 1. Babs arrives at the Poorana Brahmam temple around 8 am. He is present throughout the day and well into the night. Festivities end with another speech by Babs around midnight of January 1. I have often marvelled at his energy. By the evening of January 1, I fade away like a wilted flower. I have trouble keeping my eyes open beyond 10 pm on January 1. Babs, on the other hand, is as fresh and robust as he was at 8 am.

An endless stream of visitors comes to the ashram to seek his blessings on the New Year day. They queue up in little family clusters, clutching diaries, photographs and calendars. He patiently signs these artefacts and gives each visitor a fruit or sweets. Unlike other spiritual leaders, Babs forbids people from touching his feet. There are no volunteers regulating the queue or restricting access to him. He is highly accessible. Despite his admonition not to touch his feet, a few individuals fall at his feet. Babs usually looks away or is talking to someone else. These autograph sessions are interspersed with short speeches. Babs might talk about his spiritual journey or speak on spiritual topics.

Babs never preaches. His advice is mostly practical. He does not quote the scriptures or the Bhagavad Gita. His sources are Tamil saints and philosophers. Babs seems to have a photographic memory. He can effortlessly quote from the works of Tamil saints with tongue twisting names like Thiruvalluvar, Vallalar, Arunagirinathar, Appar, Manickavasagar and the Azhwar saints. Babs has amazing mastery of the Tamil language but he usually prefers to speak in the vernacular to connect with his largely middle and lower-middle class audience. His message is simple. He tells people that they have the right to live their lives as they please - as long as they don't hurt others and themselves. Babs says that the best way to pray to God is to constantly remember Him and express gratitude. Occasionally, Babs may call upon some of the overseas visitors and other Samratchana members to share their experiences. One of the distinctive features of Ramarajya is food. Food is abundant and ubiquitous in Ramarajya. No one goes away hungry. Babs attributes this to the blessing he received from Goddess Gayatri in 1984.

Jayashree and I usually sit and watch Babs with a mixture of awe and amusement. I marvel at his stamina. Except for short toilet breaks, he is constantly present in the auditorium to receive visitors and shower his blessings. In the afternoon, he watches the students of his SushilHari School perform. During our first New Year Day celebration at Ramarajya, Jayashree and I sneaked away in the afternoon. The next day, when we met him, Babs seemed a little upset that we missed the performances by his school children. In subsequent visits, we sat behind him at the auditorium. In the evening, there is usually a dance troupe from Chennai who are hired to perform in the ashram. In one of our visits, girls from the Sridevi Nrithyalaya performed a dance recital called Janani Jagatkarani. It was an incredible performance. I must have dozed off when they started. When I opened my eyes, I found a group of amazingly beautiful girls dancing in front of me. For a minute, I was disoriented. I thought Babs had somehow got a bunch of celestial women to perform for him.

The New Year Day celebration on January 1, 2014 is no different. Festivities start in the morning at the Poorana Brahmam Temple. We are there to greet Babs. Activities shift to the adjoining auditorium around mid-morning. We sit and watch the visitors queuing to get his blessing. We listen to his short speeches. As usual, Babs invites various overseas visitors to come and share their experiences.

During the day, Krishna approaches us to tell us about our trip with Babs the next day. Krishna has been with Babs for many years and has dedicated himself to full-time service of Babs. Krishna tells us that we would be travelling with Guna and Saro. He asks us to pack only one bag each and carry our passports. He then asks me if I am carrying my driver's license. I am surprised. In all previous travels with Babs, there was always a local person driving us. I had assumed that someone would be driving us in this trip too. I tell Krishna that I haven't brought my driver's license as I wasn't anticipating driving in India. Krishna tells me not to worry; Guna uncle can drive, he says. I am not sure if Guna uncle is aware that he would be driving four other people all the way to North India from Chennai and back. This is vintage Babs. You can never be sure what he has planned for you. In an earlier visit, he had sent us on a day trip to a place called Chidambaram near Chennai with Guna, Saro and two others. Jayashree and I did not carry a bag as we were expecting to be back in the ashram by the evening. A couple of hours into the trip, we received a message from Babs telling us not to come back in the evening. He sent us on an overnight trip to another place called Kumbakonam. It was an interesting experience to stay overnight in a hotel without a change of clothes. That experience taught us never to take things for granted with Babs, and always be prepared for surprises.

In the evening, during a gap in the programme of events, Jayashree and I rush back to the room and pack our bags. We return to the auditorium to watch the kids at Babs' school perform. Their performances are getting better each year. It is amazing what the kids are able to do with limited resources. As usual, we sit behind Babs and applaud the kids. There is regular supply of various food items just in case we are hungry. In the evening, there is a dance drama by a group of professional artists from Chennai. The group consists of a man and three women. The man has heavy makeup and is wearing eyeliner. The women seem middle-aged. The performance isn't as electrifying as the one by Sridevi Nrithyalaya. The festivities move to the main temple after the dance drama. By the time Babs, who looks as fresh as he was in the morning, makes his final speech, it is nearly mid-night. We scurry back to our room to get some sleep before departing on our North India trip.

We are up early next morning. We visit the temples and have an early breakfast. Guna and Saro, who are staying in the same hotel, are also ready. Guna is a jolly, fun-loving friendly guy. He and Saro have known Babs for more than 20 years. They have travelled with Babs extensively all over the world. Guna asks me if I am carrying my driver's licence. I tell him that I didn't bring it with me. He says he would do the driving and asks me to take care of the accounts. The general rule while travelling with Babs is that the total expenses are shared equally among all. Babs pays for all his travel expenses. He owns a courier company from his business days, which is managed by a trusted devotee. His share of the profits from the company pays for all his travels in India and overseas. Saro hands me a huge wad of currency notes. She says she has more if I run out of cash.

We meet Ravi and Karuna, who are two long-time devotees of Babs. We learn that we would be driving in Ravi's car - a relatively new Grey-coloured (Chill Metallic to be precise) Ford Fiesta Classic. It has a 1.4 litre diesel engine with five speed manual transmission, tilt adjust power steering and 14-inch tubeless alloy wheels. The interior boasts a blue-tooth enabled MP3 player, two-tone colour coordinated interiors, full fabric seat trims and air conditioning. As New Zealanders would say, it is Sweet As.

I wonder what it would look like when we return it to him after driving through India. Ravi hands over the keys to Guna and explains the controls. He also gives us a bunch of music CDs for making the trip more pleasant. Jayashree and I load our bags at the back. Two others who have been with Babs for a long time, Naresh and Manas, give us phone numbers of some of the people that we plan to meet during our travel. Saro, Jayashree and I pile into the back seat. Guna gets into the driver's seat, starts the car, eases the car forward and gingerly navigates it through the narrow lane in front of Lord's Inn. Ravi waves us goodbye. I can't think of anyone handing over their relatively new car to a group of strangers who are on a trip across India. He must have a lot of faith in Babs.

We drive to Babs' lounge which is near the entrance to the ashram. We put his bag along with ours in the boot. There is a small group of people in front of his lounge to bid us farewell. Babs climbs on to the passenger seat in the front. He seems cheerful and happy. He has a small, hand-written sheet of paper that is presumably our map for the trip. There are no elaborate maps, GPS or SatNav for the trip. Usually, in all my trips in India, we accost people on the road and ask for directions. They don't seem to mind and are always friendly but not usually accurate. It is a good idea to triangulate by asking different people. In India, the road side guides are reluctant to admit ignorance. In case of doubt, their stock reply is: go straight and turn to the right. Come to think of it, you can't go wrong in life if you go straight and keep to the right. I admire Babs' guts. He doesn't carry a mobile phone. He probably doesn't know how to use one. He has no bank accounts. He is not carrying any cash. Yet he merrily gets into a borrowed car for a long road trip across India with four people who don't even live in India.

Babs tells us that we would be staying in Vijayawada for the night. Vijayawada is about 460 kliometres from Chennai. It is on the newly constructed NH 5 that is a major national highway which runs along India's east coast through the states of Odisha, Andhra Pradesh and Tamil Nadu. It passes through Nellore, Ongole, Chilakaluripet, and Guntur in Andhra Pradesh before reaching Vijayawada. The road network in India covers around 4.2 million kilometres. National highways make up around 93,000 kilometres of this road network. About 15,000 kilometres of these are four or six lane highways. The rest have only two lanes. NH 5 is a four lane highway all the way to Vijayawada.

The national highways in India are built and managed by the National Highway Authority of India (NHAI). Many of the national highways were funded by the World Bank. There were allegations of large scale fraud and corruption during the construction. Babs tells us that most of the money meant for construction was siphoned off by the contractors resulting in poor quality roads. A 31-year old engineer called Satyendra Dubey, a graduate of the elite Indian Institute of Technology (IIT) was a Project Director at the NHAI. In early 2000, he wrote to the Indian Prime Minister detailing the level of corruption in the NHAI. Despite his plea that his letter be kept confidential, the Prime Minister forwarded his letter to the Ministry of Road Transport and Highways. Dubey received a reprimand for writing directly to the Prime Minister. In November, 2003, Dubey was shot dead in Gaya, Bihar, while going home from the Railway Station. There was an uproar following his death. Subsequently, three individuals were arrested and convicted for life. It is alleged that the real culprits responsible for Dubey's death were never charged. According to the Associated Chambers of Commerce and Industry of India, India loses over $5 billion a year due to poor roads.

In early 2014, corruption is a pervasive theme in India. There is widespread public discontent about corruption. A party called Aam Admi Party (AAP) or Common Man's Party is creating waves in India's capital, New Delhi. It is led by a charismatic individual called Arvind Kejriwal, also an alumnus of the prestigious IIT. Kejriwal is a social activist involved in a grass-roots movement called 'India Against Corruption.' In 2012, he decided to separate from the movement and form a political party to contest in the 2013 elections for the Delhi legislative assembly. No one took him seriously. The election symbol for his party is a broom. The party cadre sport the once familiar Gandhi Cap with party slogans printed on it. The general expectation was that the AAP would crash and burn in the elections. Kejriwal, however, has defied all expectations. His party contested 70 seats and won a stunning 28 of them becoming the second-largest party to win the elections. AAP crushed the ruling Indian National Congress. Kejriwal defeated the incumbent chief minister, Sheila Dixit, who has ruled Delhi for 15 years. Almost overnight, Kejriwal has become a national icon and a hope for the educated middle class, which is beginning to feel marginalised in the new India where material success is increasingly a function of connections and cash. As we leave on our trip, Kejriwal's party has formed a minority government in Delhi. There is palpable excitement as public expectations of the AAP broom sweeping India free of corruption. People expect the AAP to contest the 2014 national elections and come to power at the centre.

It is a pleasant drive on NH 5 except that there seem to be innumerable toll booths. In all these, I give Guna the required cash, collect the change and the receipt and note down the amount spent in my small diary. I know that Babs is meticulous about expenses and accounts. Inside the Ford Fiesta, Saro is sitting next to the window facing the sun. She puts a newspaper across the window to act as a shade. She is recovering from flu. Jayashree is sitting next to her in the middle. The Fiesta is not a roomy model. The three of us at the back are a little squashed. Jayashree keeps squirming whenever I attempt to make myself comfortable. Occasionally, she scowls at me. However, no one seems to mind the discomfort. We are with Babs and nothing else matters. He has that kind of effect on people.

About 45 minutes into our journey, I notice that the car in front of us has a familiar picture on the rear windscreen. I am surprised to see a picture of Babs smiling benignly at us from the back of a Maruti Wagonr. I point the picture to others. We are all excited but Babs is unmoved. Guna switches lanes to draw alongside of the Maruti. It is the Raghunath family consisting of Raghunath, his wife Subha and their two daughters, Pavithra and Prarthana. They are returning to Hyderabad after attending the New Year celebrations in Ramarajya. They are, of course, excited to catch a glimpse of Babs. The girls wave at us. Babs tells Guna to follow Raghunath.

About 85 kilometres from Chennai, there is a famous temple of mother goddess. She is called Chengala Parameshwari. We are now in the Nellore district of Andhra Pradesh. It has a population of around three million people and is famous for its rice and shrimp. The temple is about 20 km from Sriharikota, which houses the Satish Dhawan Space Centre of the Indian Space Research Organisation. India has an impressive indigenously developed space programme. It is one of handful countries in the world that have the capability to launch indigenously developed launch vehicles. India can launch both polar and geosynchronous satellites from Sriharikota. In a dizzying mixture of science and spirituality, prayers are offered at the Chengala Parameshwari temple before important launches.

Babs asks Guna to stop at the temple. We all get down and go into the temple to pray to the Goddess. I am fond of the Goddess. I pray to her every day. I find it easier to confide in her. Raghunath family joins us. There is a small crowd in the temple. In any South Indian temple, there is a set ritual. The priest performs a brief puja or prayer. Then, he waves a plate with a lighted lamp in a vertical clockwise motion in front of the deity. It is called arti. The energy of the deity is supposed to be transferred to the flame, which is a pure medium. Usually, when the lamp is being moved around in front of the deity, the devotees gently slap their cheeks. The plate is then circulated among the devotees, who cup their hands around the flame and then rub their forehead and face to transfer the energy from the flame to them. There is sacred ash (vibhuthi) and vermilion (kumkum) in the plate that people take. It is customary to make a cash offering in the plate. We have to wait for a little while before the arti is performed. Babs usually does not like to linger in any temple after the arti. When travelling with Babs, you have to be fast on your feet. We quickly return to the car and resume the journey.

Nellore town is roughly 180 kilometres from Chennai. We reach Nellore town around lunch time. Babs directs us to a vegetarian restaurant. A beggar woman accosts Jayashree outside the restaurant. It is a modest, not flashy restaurant serving wholesome vegetarian Andhra cuisine. We opt for the South Indian lunch. Buxom Telugu women serve us various items making up the lunch. The food is surprisingly good. When you are with Babs, it always is. My most memorable meal with Babs was in Dharmasthala, Karnataka. It is a temple town that gets around 10,000 visitors a day. The temple is administered by a Jain family while the rituals are conducted by Hindu priests. The temple has a large kitchen, serving free food to all devotees. Visitors have to sit on a marble floor but Babs and I were seated on a little table. The kitchen and the eating areas were spotlessly clean. The food was simple, nourishing and wholesome. Babs gave me a tiny morsel from his plate as prasadam, which is any food offered to God first. I found the experience of eating there beyond amazing.

Babs does not like linger over lunch either. We prepare to depart fater finishing our meal. Jayashree buys a packet of lunch for the beggar woman. But the woman seems to have vanished. She goes in search of the woman. I tell her to hurry up because Babs doesn't like to be held up. She begins to panic but the woman arrives and she hands over the lunch packet to her. We leave for Vijayawada, which is around 278 kilometres from Nellore. On Indian roads, it is roughly a four-hour drive. Guna follows Raghunath. The road is good.

Inside the Ford, Babs starts talking about the events that led to his decision to leave for North India. A section of the Praveena hospital had been rented to a barber. When he was served notice to terminate his lease, the barber refused to quit. He engaged a local politician, who demanded a large amount of money for vacating the premises. When Babs refused to pay, a false police complaint was filed against several people in Ramarajya, including Babs. The local police, who were probably bribed, summoned the people named in the complaint. But no one was willing to go to the police station. A number of individuals who have known Babs for many years gave various excuses and backed out. Finally, Krishna and one more person volunteered. They were beaten up and thrown in the lockup. This was only one of several instances in which Babs felt let down by people around him. He sounds a little bitter and disappointed.

I feel sorry for Babs. He has invested a great deal of his time and energy to build the spiritual commune called Samratchana. He is very loyal and grateful to people who stayed with him after his ashram in Neelankarai was set on fire. He has worked hard to provide for their welfare. He has built a beautiful ashram with wonderful temples and other facilities for their spiritual growth. He has established a school, which is one of the best in Tamil Nadu. Babs would like to see Samratchana thriving as an exemplar spiritual commune. But he is disappointed that these facilities are under-utilised. He feels that people around him are entrenched in their habits and unwilling to change. Babs talks about specific individuals and their shortcomings.

While I feel sorry for Babs, I don't take his complaints about individuals seriously. I have learnt from experience not to take him literally. Once I heard him bitterly complain about someone in his ashram. I thought that he really disliked this person. In a subsequent visit, I found him full of love and affection for the same person. Babs can't dislike anyone. He may feel annoyed by their behaviour. If he is upset by someone's behaviour, he would completely ignore them for a while. Usually the person would become remorseful and learn the lesson, after which Babs would be friendly as usual. No one is ever ignored permanently, unless they decide to leave Samratchana for good. Although Babs is extraordinarily loving and caring, he can also be very demanding, expecting perfection and excellence in performance. Very few people in the ashram are able to meet his exacting standards.

By the time we reach Vijayawada, after a couple of toilet stops on the way, it is late in the evening. Vijayawada, which means place of victory, is the second largest city in Andhra Pradesh with a population of around 1.5 million. The river Krishna runs east and west to the city and the river Budameru runs on its northern side. The city is mostly flat, with some small to medium-sized hills. Unlike Jagdalpur, Vijayawada is well connected by rail and road, making it a thriving commercial hub. Apart from agriculture, Vijayawada also boasts one of the largest automobile industry hubs in the whole of Asia. The global management consultancy firm McKinsey and Company has called Vijayawada the "Global City of the Future". This is not surprising. You can smell prosperity in Vijayawada.

The goddess Kanaka Durga temple in Vijayawada symbolises the prosperity of the city. It is on the banks of the river Krisna on a small hill called Indrakeeladri. The temple is ancient; it is mentioned in the Vedic period literature. The deity is self-manifested or swayambhu in Sanskrit. Arjuna, of Mahabharatha fame, is said to have done penance on the Indrakeeladri hill and prayed to Lord Shiva for his blessings to win in the battle against his cousins. Another myth is that the Goddess Durga slayed a demon king here. The Hindu saint Adi Shankara is said to have visited the temple in the eighth century and placed a Sri Chakra or a sacred instrument there. The Sri Chakra is a mystical diagram made up of nine interlocking triangles. It is believed to be a source of divine energy.

With its ornamental golden dome, the temple reeks of prosperity. Next to the famous Thirumala Balaji temple in Andhra Pradesh, the Kanaka Durga temple is the second richest in the state. Its annual revenues are around Rs.1,500 million. It has deposited 50 kilogrammes of gold with its bankers. The temple attracts around 20,000 devotees every day. Not surprisingly, that kind of wealth attracts the politicians. Newspaper reports allege political interference in the management of the temple.

As we enter Vijayawada, Babs asks Guna to drive to the Kanaka Durga temple. It is nearly closing time for the temple. There are barricades erected to restrict entry into the temple. Police and security officials are everywhere. Babs tells Guna to drive through. Guna is hesitant. 'Just tell them you are from the Press', Babs says. Guna is still hesitant. Somehow we make it to the entrance of temple. We all scramble out as a policeman approaches the car. He tells Guna not to park the car there. Guna looks for another parking spot. Saro and Jayashree go in search of the ladies restroom. Raghunath family joins us while we wait for Saro and Jayashree. Raghunath goes to get tickets for a special access to the goddess.

Even around closing time, the temple is crowded. Steel barricades have been erected to control the queues. As soon as Saro and Jayashree arrive, we join the Raghunath family in the queue. I chat with Pavitra, Prarthana and Subha. Eventually we are allowed inside the temple. With our special tickets, we are as close as anyone is allowed to get to the deity. The deity is about four foot high and decked in gold ornaments and flowers. She is extraordinarily beautiful. It is the kind of beauty that evokes devotion. The deity has eight arms. In one of the arms, she has a trident and is about to slay the buffalo-demon Mahishasura. I had never visited the temple before meeting Babs. Thanks to Babs, this is my third visit to the temple. The earlier two visits were also sponsored by Babs. We offer prayers, come outside and collect the prasadam.

It is nearly 10 pm in the night. Our accommodation is arranged in Hotel Southern Grand. On its website, the hotel proudly proclaims: "Strategically located in Gandhi Nagar – the heart of Vijayawada, Southern Grand offers you comfortable stay, genuine hospitality, personalized guest service, quality food and a plethora of other amenities at an affordable price." They are right about the strategic location. The hotel is within a kilometer from bus and railway stations. They even have a pickup service.

On TripAdvisor, the hotel has mixed reviews about comfortable stay, genuine hospitality, personalized guest service, and quality food. A guy from New Delhi thinks it is a "Decent Value for Money Hotel". However, he wants the rooms to be a little larger. I am not sure how the hotel would address that comment. Another person from Chennai rates it as "Not enough value for money". He complains about poor maintenance, the key cards not working, apathetic staff and lack of WiFi at night. Someone from Surat calls the service is "pathetic". Ironically, someone from Switzerland is full of praise for the hotel. He offers it a five-star rating, gushing about the "gorgeous view" from the fifth floor. No one has commented on the plethora of other amenities. After being cramped in the back of a Ford Fiesta for almost a day, I share the view of the Swiss visitor. I find the hotel gorgeous. Raghunath is dispatched to haggle over the room prices. As an employee in an important national newspaper, he commands both respect and a healthy discount. We collect our key cards and retire for the night. The room is surprisingly neat with clean linen.

Next morning, on the third of January, we gather in Babs's room for the morning homam. It is a consecrated fire ritual for invoking divinity that dates back to 5,000 years from the Vedic period in India. The ritual is usually accompanied by the chanting of sacred hymns or Vedic mantras. Babs has performed the homam every single day since 1984. He carries a small rectangular brass vessel for performing the homam along with supplies for kindling and lighting the fire. After starting the fire, he sits with his eyes closed, silently reciting the mantras. He then prays for the welfare of everyone. He concludes the homam by asking someone, usually Jayashree when we are travelling with him, to sing a devotional song.

We check out of our rooms and have a South Indian breakfast of idli, dosa and upma in the restaurant on the ground floor. As Raghunath settles the bill, Babs and I sit in the lounge perusing through the newspapers. The front page of all the papers features Arvind Kejriwal and his party in Delhi. I ask Babs what he thinks about Kejriwal. He says Kejriwal must prove himself in Delhi by delivering clean governance. Babs thinks he should make Delhi a model of good governance so that people in the rest of India would also start clamouring for the same standards. I note that he doesn't sound overly enthusiastic about Kejriwal, which surprises me a little because everyone in India seems upbeat about him.

We load our bags in the car and prepare to depart. The Raghunath family is supposed to head to Hyderabad while we are going to Badrachalam. However, Raghunath wants to accompany us to Badrachalam. Outside the hotel, I take pictures of Babs with Pavitra and Prarthana. Like Anu and Praveena, Pavithra is another one of Babs' angels – cute, attractive and smart. She is a bubbly 26-year old upwardly-mobile chartered accountant working as a Financial Analyst in a multinational drug company. She also has a post graduate qualification in business management and is aiming to acquire professional certification in corporate law. She can dance, likes Jack Reacher novels and is strictly vegetarian. Pavitra has just returned from a company-paid, two-month trip to Switzerland, Sweden, Norway and Italy. She cooked her own meals during the trip, lugging around a suitcase filled with exotic Indian spices. She also loves Babs, who calls her a rowdy. Her younger sister Prarthana is serious, quiet and earnest.

Badrachalam is about 190 kilometres from Vijayawada. Babs is keen to reach there by lunchtime. He wants to make it to Jagdalpur by night. On the way to Badrachalam, Babs continues to narrate various incidents that have disillusioned him about his spiritual commune. We listen to tales of errant school children writing him anonymous letters, incidents of theft and even an illicit relationship. I am beginning to find this depressing. Babs switches topics and starts talking about politics and the state of the country. He deplores the level of corruption in public affairs. He is very critical of the party in power.

In 2013, Babs made his ashram available to a Hindu right-wing organisation called Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) for its annual conclave. It is part of a family of organisations that support the opposition party – Bharathiya Janata Party (BJP). Babs says he let the RSS use the ashram as a debt of gratitude to the BJP. The party was in power in 2001 when Babs wished to start a school in his ashram. The local government, however, was dragging its feet about giving him the necessary approvals. Babs wrote to the central government, which immediately gave him the permission to affiliate the school with the Central Board of Secondary Education. When the RSS held its conclave, Babs was not in Chennai. He was travelling with us to Badrinath. But the chief of RSS, Mohan Bhagwat, must have been impressed with the ashram and probably felt intrigued about its founder. He paid Babs a visit later, seeking his advice on a personal issue. Babs doesn't disclose what the issue was although I am curious to know.

In the coming Indian elections, the BJP's main candidate is Narendra Modi, the controversial Chief Minister of Gujarat. There is opposition to Modi within his own party. It is not clear if he can mount a credible challenge to the party in power. I ask Babs what he thinks about Modi. Babs is surprisingly positive. He says that Modi would be a strong and decisive leader. He seems more enthusiastic about Modi than about Kejriwal. I ask Babs about BJP's prospects in the coming election. Babs is diplomatic and evasive. He talks about a minor functionary in the BJP being told by an astrologer that he would become a minister in the central cabinet after the elections. Babs says this is not possible unless BJP gets an absolute majority. I am pretty sceptical about this improbable story but I sense that Babs is trying to signal something without disclosing what he knows about the future.

The fact that the RSS had held its conclave in Ramarajya means that their plans for the election would have divine blessings. I make a mental note to post on Facebook predicting an absolute majority for Narendra Modi, which most people think is unlikely. But I know what kind of effect Babs can have, if he decides to bless someone. But I can't see Babs wielding any political influence. He is indifferent to anything other than God. He is too honest and straight forward for present day politics. Most lay people would find it hard to understand him. He is a freakish combination of a wise teacher, caring lover, trusted friend and a petulant child. He is a siddha, a lover of God. You can't confine him to any category. Only people who are serious about spirituality and have experienced his love understand him.

We make it to Badrachalam before lunch time. Badrachalam is a small town on the banks of the Godavari River. It was once part of the Dandakaranya forest. It is said that Sita was abducted from the hut that Ram built about 32 kilometres from the town. Badrachalam is famous for its temple for Ram. According to local legend, in the 17th century, Lord Ram appeared in the dream of a local woman called Pokala Dhammakka. Ram directed her to find his idol and those of Sita and Lakshman. Pokala Dhammakka found the idols next morning in an ant hill nearby. She retrieved the idols, constructed a makeshift temple, installed the idols in the temple and offered daily prayers to Ram. In her dream, Ram had told her that a permanent temple would be built by another devotee.

The other devotee turned out to be a person called Kancharla Gopanna. Gopanna was a revenue collector in the court of Nawab Abul Hussan Shah known as 'Taneshah' of Golkonda. On a visit to Badrachalam as part of his official duties, Gopanna came across the deities of Ram, Sita and Lakshman in the makeshift temple. He was so enamoured with these that he became an ardent devotee of Ram. He was immediately seized with a desire to construct a permanent temple for Ram. Gopanna used the revenue that he had collected for the Nawab for constructing the temple without his permission.

The temple was completed in 1674 at a cost of 600,000 silver coins. When the Nawab heard about Gopanna's use of his revenue to construct a temple without his permission, he had him arrested and imprisoned in the Golconda Fort. For 12 long years, Gopanna was incarcerated in the fort prison and tortured. Gopanna implored Ram to save him from his misery by singing to him. These songs have become immortalized as the Kirtanas (song of prayer) of Badrachalam Ramadas (servant of Ram). They signify total surrender to the will of God. One day, after 12 years, two young warriors appeared in the bed-chambers of the Nawab in the middle of the night. They introduced themselves as Ramoji & Lakshmoji. They said they were friends of Gopanna. They gave the Nawab 600,000 gold coins and asked him to release Gopanna. The coins had Ram's seal on them. The bewildered Nawab gave them a receipt for the coins and released Gopanna the following day. He also became a devotee of Ram. Two of these gold coins are kept in a museum adjoining the temple. The coins depict the scene of Ram's coronation on one side and have a picture of his ideal devotee Hanuman on the other side.

Between 1984 and 1988, in his search for God, Babs visited the Ram Temple at Badrachalam, a number of times. He would spend days sitting in the temple, lost in contemplation of God. He had interesting spiritual experiences in this temple. In those days, the temple was fairly spartan and inaccessible. Badrachalam town had only basic amenities. Since then, the temple and the town have flourished. The temple complex is well-developed and the town boasts a number of good hotels. The deities in the temple are a little unusual. Unlike other places, the idol depicts Ram in a seated posture. Sita is seated on Ram's left thigh. She looks cute. Lakshman is in a standing pose next to them. The idols have an extraordinary beauty. The first time you glimpse them, you fall in love with them immediately. Again thanks to Babs, this is my second visit to the temple.

In Indian temples, the key thing in worship is what is known as darshan. It means the act of seeing either a deity/idol or a saintly person. In simple terms, it is the glimpse of divinity. Most temples in India are crowded and you can only have a fleeting glimpse of the deity, before you are shoved aside by the priests or the security staff. However, whenever we have visited temples either with Babs or in trips sponsored by him, Jayashree and I have had close, unrestricted darshans. It was no different in Badrachalam. During our first visit, the temple was surprisingly not crowded. We had an amazing darshan that reduced Jayashree to tears because for years she was yearning to visit Badrachalam. In this trip, we have a similar experience. We have another brilliant darshan. What makes darshan worthwhile is the way in which the deity is decorated. In temples where the priests are sincere and devoted, the decorations would simply be beyond extraordinary. The beauty would have a divine aspect. Priests in ancient temples of Andhra Pradesh are quite sincere and devoted. They are meticulous in decorating the deities. It is not surprising that there is a divine vibration in these temples.

There is a form of astrology practised in Tamil Nadu called nadi. These are palm leaves inscribed in ancient Tamil script by sages and seers, who could peer into the past and the future. These palm leaves were carefully preserved in an ancient library called Saraswati Mahal in Tanjore, Tamil Nadu. However, over the years these were scattered among different families, who have passed them down the generations. The palm leaves can only be read and interpreted by people from these families. They only require a person's right thumb impression. You don't need to give them any other details. I used to be quite sceptical about these so I tried a nadi reading myself a couple of years back in Chennai. The person doing the reading did not have any information about me other than my right thumb impression. It was interesting. In that reading, I was told that Babs would take me on trips to North India and that I would write books on him. Here I am on the way to North India and you are reading a book I have written. As you know, I didn't plan this trip.

Several individuals close to Babs have had private nadi readings. In these readings, there have been details about Babs too. Others have taken Babs's right thumb impression and sent it for a nadi reading. In many of these readings, there have been amazing details about Babs's past. Independent nadi readings have stated that Babs was Lord Ram in a past life. Other Siddhas that Babs has met have also confirmed this. Babs is quite unmoved by these readings. He does not go around saying that he is Ram. I was, of course, very excited to learn that he could have been Ram. Ramayana is one of my most favourite reads, particularly the battle scenes. I was hoping that Babs could give a first-hand account of how it all happened. Regrettably, he told me that he had no memories of this. He said he had occasional flashes of vision that he might have been Ram. Needless to add, I was disappointed. Is Babs really Ram?

There is a section of population in India which is clamouring to build a temple for Ram in his birthplace of Ayodhya. They want to demolish a Muslim mosque and construct a temple for Ram in its place. I wonder how many of them would be as zealous if they were told that they would have to undergo 12 years of incarceration and torture in order to qualify. One of the problems that people have in relating to God is that they treat God as a person. It is probably more useful to think of God as attributes. There is no doubt that Ram evokes the feelings of divinity in many people in India. None of these people has actually seen Ram in person. Even Gopanna did not get to see Ram and Lakshman when they appeared as young warriors in front of the Nawab. We feel attracted to Ram, not because he was a prince who killed Ravan but because he embodied virtues that we consider noble. The foremost of Ram's virtues was equanimity. He remained indifferent when he was told that he would be anointed as the King. He was equally unmoved when he was told that he would be exiled to the forest for 14 years. Another supreme virtue that Ram embodied was inclusion. He did not discriminate against anyone. He accepted Guha, the lowly boatman, as part of his family. He accepted the monkey king Sugriva as his friend. He considered the martyred bird Jatayu as his own kin and performed the last rites. He even accepted Vibhishana, the brother of his enemy, as his devotee. If you can practice these qualities of equality and non-discrimination, then you are qualified to be called Ram. Babs embodies these qualities. That's what makes him Ram.

After the darshan in the main temple, we pay a visit to the other shrines in the temple complex. Within the temple complex, there is an ancient stone with the footprint of Ram. We also visit the museum and look at the ornaments and decorations that Gopanna made for the deities. Babs is eager to push on after lunch. We drive to Hotel Haritha in Badrachalam. It belongs to the Andhra Pradesh Tourism Development Corporation. It is a decent resort hotel with simple, clean rooms. On TripAdvisor, it only has a three-star rating. General consensus among reviewers is that it is a good hotel but needs to improve on service. We are, however, only interested in lunch. We have a pleasant lunch. I take pictures of the girls with Babs on Jayashree's camera. He jokes with the girls.

After lunch, we get into our cars, ready to depart. Raghunath family is returning to Hyderabad and we are going to Jagdalpur. We follow the same route out of Badrachalam till we reach an intersection where we head in opposite directions. Babs has asked Raghunath to find out the best route to Jagdalpur. We also ask people on the road for directions to Jagdalpur. We ask them if the road on their route is in good condition. They tell us the road is a little patchy in places but otherwise good. At the intersection, we turn towards Jagdalpur. There is a phone call from Raghunath on Guna's phone. Guna stops the car. Raghunath comes running. Babs lowers his window to listen to him. Raghunath appears nervous. He tells us that the route we are following may not be good. He says that he has been told the road is in a bad condition. He suggests we take a more circuitous route through Hyderabad and Nagpur to Raipur, instead of going through Jagdalpur. But he appears tentative. Babs is unusually curt and dismissive. He thanks him and tells Guna to follow our route.

As we proceed towards the border of Andhra Pradesh and Chhattisgarh, we are feeling upbeat. We are with Ram. The road is good. Babs tells us that Raghunath gave us wrong information. He says we would be in Jagdalpur latest by 9 pm. We reach the border of Andhra Pradesh and enter Chhattisgarh.

And then it all turns to custard. Raghunath was right and our Raghu ignored him!

4. Love in Raipur

The morning of January 4, 2014 finds us bleary-eyed but upbeat because we made it through the infamous Red Corridor that I mentioned in the beginning of the book unscathed. Now we are ready to explore the breakfast fare at Hotel Suri International in Jagdalpur. Jayashree and I make our way to the restaurant, which is on the ground floor opposite the Reception. We are greeted by a friendly youth in his teens in a hoodie and jeans. He turns out to be the waiter. The management of Hotel Suri International seems to have a lax dress code policy for its staff. He is genuinely happy to see us, which is not surprising because there is no one else there. He manages to create a family-like ambience by addressing Jayashree as aunty. I am beginning to like him.

The menu in the restaurant boasts a variety of options. We opt for the standard North Indian breakfast of alu paratha with dahi. It is wheat flour flat bread (paratha) stuffed with spicy cooked potatoes (alu). The potatoes are usually cooked with coriander, cumin, turmeric and chilli powders. Diced onions are optional and my favourite. It is best eaten with yogurt (dahi). Addition of Indian-style lemon or mango pickles elevates it to divine heights.

Saro and Guna join us for breakfast. Babs occasionally has breakfast in his room. My fellow travellers including Babs and Jayashree prefer South Indian cuisine. Jayashree would rather have South Indian dosa (made of fermented rice flour and lentils) with coconut chutney. But in Jagdalpur, it is better to stick to standard North Indian fare of alu paratha and dahi. The friendly waiter asks 'aunty' if she would have chai. North Indian tea is called chai - it is not the weak English Breakfast or Earl Grey tea. Chai is a heady concoction made by boiling tea leaves in milk with cardamom, cinnamon and ginger. We wash down the alu paratha with chai.

After breakfast, we gather in Babs's room for the morning homam. After he performs his fire ritual, Babs asks Jayashree to sing. Guna and I leave after the homam. We have to get our spare tyre fixed. I ask the waiter for directions to the nearest tyre shop. He directs us to a tyre shop close by. Guna and I drive there. As Guna does not speak Hindi, I have to act as the interpreter.

Another youth is in charge of the shop, which has only the most basic tools. It doesn't evoke much confidence. Guna wants to know if he can do wheel balancing after changing the tyre. I look at him in disbelief. The shop has the most rudimentary tools. I don't expect the shop to have a wheel balancing machine. I explain to Guna that it may be unrealistic to expect wheel balancing to be done in that shop. We show the youth our flat tyre. The tyre has a deep gash on the side. He says it can be fixed. Guna is not so sure. Guna says that he doesn't think the tyre would last even if it is fixed. I ask the youth if the tyre would be serviceable if he fixes it. He is equivocal. As the retired General Manager of ExxonMobil, Guna knows a lot more about tyres than I do. I defer to his superior judgement. I ask the youth to get us a new tyre. He says that his shop doesn't stock tyres. He only fixes tyres; he doesn't sell them. He directs us to a tyre dealer.

The tyre dealer turns out to be in the basement of Hotel Suri International. He is a Sikh gentleman. The tyre specifications for the Ford Fiesta are 175/65R14. Guna, who is very knowledgeable about tyres, tells me that the numbers indicate 175 is the width of the tyre in millimetres. 65 is the aspect ratio, i.e., height of the sidewall in percentage terms (65% of 175). R stands for Radial, which refers to a specific type of design of the tyre. 14 is the diameter of the tyre in inches. The Sikh gentleman strokes his beard thoughtfully and tries to pass on a tyre with slightly different dimensions. Luckily, Guna notices and vehemently objects. I ask the dealer to get us a tyre with exactly the same specification as our flat tyre. He says he doesn't have one in stock but promises to get one shortly. He dispatches someone to get the tyre from another dealer. In a short while, we have a new tyre that matches our specification. It is a JK tyre, which is a North Indian brand. The tyres on the Ford are MRF, a South Indian brand. Guna insists on a MRF tyre. I tell him that we should settle for the JK, which is as well-known as the MRF brand.

The new tyre costs us Rs.4,500. We pay for the tyre and then drive around the hotel looking for another shop to change the tyres for us. Luckily, we find one close to the hotel. There are a lot of people there just hanging around doing nothing. I ask one of them if he would change the tyres for us. He says we have to ask the owner of the shop, who appears to be busy. The unnerving thing about Jagdalpur is that a lot of youth seem to be just hanging around without being active or productive. Eventually, the owner sends someone to change the tyres for us. While the tyre is being changed, I chat with one of the locals. I tell him about our ordeal at night. He is surprised that we took that particular route. He says that the Naxalites have planted land mines under the road and won't allow road building contractors to dig to lay new roads. I am not sure if I should believe him. In India, rumour and hearsay can quite easily attain the status of truth. We pay the owner for changing our tyres and triumphantly return to the hotel with a sense of accomplishment and relief.

Our next stop is Raipur, which is about 290 km from Jagdalpur. We check out of the hotel, load our bags in the car and ask for directions to Raipur. NH 43 connects the two towns. We find our way to NH 43. The road is in a reasonably good condition. The tension of the previous night is gone and everyone is in good spirits. We are going to Raipur to visit one of Babs's devotees from the Neelankarai days. Babs hasn't seen her for a while. Her name is Viju. In Tamil Nadu, there is an odd custom of adding a prefix to a person's name. The prefix is usually a noun or an adjective. For instance, there is gentleman in Babs's ashram called Subramanian. He is referred to as 'Telephone' Subramanian. I once asked Babs why he was called 'telephone' Subramanian. Babs said the prefix was necessary not to confuse him with another person called Subramanian. In the four years that I have visited the ashram, I haven't come across any other Subramanian. Similarly, there is a 'Delhi' Paddu, 'ONGC' Mani, 'Salem' Vijaya and so on. Outside the ashram in the film world, there is a 'Gemini' Ganesan, 'Delhi' Ganesh, 'Silk' Smitha, 'Thengai' (coconut) Srinivasan and 'Crazy' Mohan. Viju seems to have suffered the same fate. She is called 'Kulla' (meaning short) Viju. Presumably, there is a taller version somewhere, although I can't recall any other person called Viju.

NH 43 from Jagdalpur goes through Rajagaon, Kondagaon, Pira, Kanker, Charama and Dhamtari on the way to Raipur. It is a reasonably pleasant drive after our ordeal on NH 221 the previous night. Babs tells us about 'Kulla' Viju. She is very devoted to Babs. She seems to have gone through a difficult period in her life but is now married and happily settled in Raipur. Babs seems quite fond of her. He says he admired a personal quality she has - she doesn't like to gossip about others. Apparently, if someone starts talking about a person behind their back, Viju would gently correct them by saying, 'why don't we talk about something else?' Babs also admires her devotion to God. He remembers a song that she used to sing on Lord Ayyappa.

Ayyappa is a Hindu deity, whose famous shrine is in Sabarimala in Kerala. The shrine is on top of a hill. It is believed that Lord Ayyappa is in penance in this shrine. A staggering 50 million devotees visit the shrine every year. It is open for worship only between the middle of November and the end of December and between the middle of January and the middle of April. It is also open in the first six days of each month in the Malayalam calendar. Although there are no caste restrictions in visiting the shrine, women between the ages of 10 and 50 are not allowed into the shrine. Men who wish to visit the temple must practice strict austerities for a period between 41 and 48 days. They must refrain from alcohol, meat, cigarettes and sex during this period. They should bathe twice a day, wear a black or blue dress, not cut their hair or shave and should walk barefoot.

Once they complete these austerities, they can undertake the pilgrimage preferably in small groups led by someone who is a veteran devotee. The traditional pilgrimage is a 52 kilometre walk through mountainous forests from Erumely, through Aludha River, Karimala and Pampa River. The shrine is a nine kilometre trek up a steep hill called Neeli Mala. Most people just drive up to the Pampa River and climb the hill on foot. To ease the journey and instil devotion, there is chanting. Someone shouts at the top of their voice: "Swamiye eeeeeeee", and the rest are supposed to shout back: "Saranam Ayyappa." It is all good clean fun. If you are a male who has mostly led a dissolute life, 41 days without alcohol, cigarettes, meat and sex combined with a healthy nine-kilometre trek up a steep hill can be pretty uplifting. If nothing, you will feel healthy and cleansed, particularly if you have been bathing twice a day. If you are sufficiently devoted, you might also discover God. It is not surprising that the number of devotees to Sabarimala keeps increasing every year. Once you have tasted the power of purity and surrender, you keep coming back for more of it.

Babs is a staunch devotee of Ayyappa. He has visited Sabarimala more than 65 times. Babs built a temple for Ayyappa in his bungalow before he turned to full-time spirituality. The deity in Babs' temple is now installed in the Poorana Brahmam Temple in his ashram. Every year on January 14, Babs performs a ceremony called 'Makara Jyothi' to coincide with a similar ceremony in Sabarimala. The highlight of this ceremony is lighting a lamp (jyothi). Devotees consider viewing (darshan) this lamp (jyothi) as the most sacred part of this pilgrimage because it is believed that Lord Ayyappa suspends his penance and blesses his devotees when the lamp is lit. Surprisingly, the lamp is lit in Babs' ashram in the same precise moment when it is lit in Sabarimala.

I have never visited Sabarimala. Although I have sung bhajans on Lord Ayyappa when I was a devotee of Sri Sathya Sai Baba, I don't consider myself a devotee of Lord Ayyappa. I have, however, attended the Makara Jyothi ceremony in Babs' ashram almost every year since I started visiting him. In one of those ceremonies, Babs' face seemed to change and he appeared as Lord Ayyappa to me, after the lamp was lit. Of course, I didn't recognise him as I had no idea what Lord Ayyappa looked like. Only later, after I came across a picture of Ayyappa, did I realise that I had the darshan of Lord Ayyappa without visiting Sabarimala. The basic message of Lord Ayyappa is: I am God; so are you (Aham Brahmasmi; Tat Twam Asi). The requirements of pilgrimage, rituals, chants and songs associated with Lord Ayyappa evoke feelings of intense devotion and surrender. Viju's song, which is in Malayalam, is an example of this devotion and surrender:

Mani mala mudra darichu,

(Wearing the symbolic beaded necklace)

Manikandan nammam jebichu,

(Chanting the name of Manikandan - Ayyappa)

Irrumoodi kattu chumannu,

(Carrying the two knotted bundles)

Porrunnu bhagavane, nyaan,

(I am coming to You, oh God, I am coming)

Pallikattum chumanndhu,

(Carrying the sacred travelling kit)

Padinettam padi kadandhu,

(Crossing the eighteen steps)

Bhagavande sannadhiyil nyaan,

(Am I not standing there in God's sanctum as a Beggar)

Yajaganay nilkunnallo|| (Mani mala)|

Sannidhanathul jolikkum,

Shanthaswaroopa ninde,

Padhara vindham kandaal,

(When I get to see the lotus feet of your glorious peaceful form inside the Sanctum

Logam marakummalo|| (Mani mala) ||

(I forget the entire universe)

Bhagavaande naamam jabichaal,

(When I chant the name of Bhagawan)

kittunnadhu moksham allo,

(What I get is liberation or moksha)

Ayyappan thiru nadayil nyaan,

(At Ayyappan's shrine, I am)

EnnEnnum yajagan allo,

(Always a beggar)

Bhagavaande thiru nadayil nyaan,

EnnEnnum yajagan allo|| (Mani mala||

It has a line which means: In God's shrine, I am forever a beggar. Babs likes this song very much although he doesn't approve of treating ourselves as beggars before God. Babs says we must love God, not beg to Him. I agree with Babs. I consider myself a friend and a lover of God, not a beggar. In the song, however, the devotee does not beg for material wealth but for liberation.

In the car, we are beginning to feel hungry. We haven't stopped for lunch. In fact, there is no decent place for lunch between Jagdalpur and Raipur. In the car, we are carrying packets of snacks from Chennai. We make a pretext of offering it to Babs and then eat the rest ourselves. Jayashree is carrying a small stainless steel vessel with Babs' favourite brand of powdered betel nuts. She gives him a tiny spoonful. Babs likes to take a pinch of betel nuts after eating a meal. Jayashree is enjoying her role as Babs' betel nut carrier. She also has the job of feeding Guna as he is driving.

Babs senses that we are hungry. "Wait for some more time", he says, "I will get you excellent South Indian Food at Viju's place. She is a good cook." Visions of dosas, idly, sambhar with papadums tantalisingly swim before my hungry mind. As we approach Raipur, Babs asks us to call Viju on her mobile phone to ask for directions. Saro's mobile phone doesn't seem to connect. The cellular network in Chhattisgarh is pretty patchy. I switch on my iPhone and surprisingly it seems to connect. I try calling her but the connection is bad. I introduce myself and tell her that we are travelling with Babs. I ask her to text us the directions. She texts back: 'aunty v shall meet at abhanpur which comes after dhamtari.' Suddenly, the absurdity of my situation strikes me. Here I am, in a borrowed car driven by a retired General Manager of MobilExxon from Malaysia, in the middle of nowhere in North India, texting a woman I have never met before, who calls me aunty, is probably short and who is about to give me excellent South Indian food. Such is life when you have a freaky friend like Babs.

As we pass Dhamtari, I call Viju again. She gives me the registration number and model of their car. She also starts calling me uncle. I keep a sharp lookout for Abhanpur. We are there soon. I spot their brand new Suzuki Swift Dzire. It is a sedan with a 1.2 litre, four cylinder, 16-valve engine with a five-speed manual transmission designed in India. Viju and her husband are waiting by the side of the car. There are two kids peering at us curiously through the rear windscreen. Babs asks Guna to stop. We all get out and are warmly greeted by Viju and her husband. Viju is overjoyed to see Babs. Guna and Saro know Viju from the Neelankarai days but they haven't met Viju's husband, Mahesh, who is a Regional Manager in a bank. Babs hasn't met him either. Viju and Mahesh have a three or four year-old boy, Adyant, and girl, Aadya, about two years old. Babs gets into their car. I climb on to the front seat in the Ford Fiesta and we follow the Suzuki on its way to Raipur.

Raipur, a city over a million people, is the capital of Chhattisgarh. By Indian standards, it is small. It is an ancient city - its history stretching back to more than a thousand years. To the east of the city is the river Mahanadi. The river is about 900 kilometres long, flowing through the states of Chhattisgarh and Odisha. It was prone to frequent and devastating floods till the Hirakud Dam was constructed in Odisha in 1957. The river is the lifeline of Odisha. Around Raipur, the terrain is flat and the region is known for its more than hundred varieties of rice. There are dense forests on the southern side of the city. The Asian Highway (AH) project is a cooperative project among 32 countries in Asia and Europe and the United Nations Economic and Social Commission for Asia and the Pacific, to improve the highway systems in Asia. AH 46 goes through Raipur. Swami Vivekananda spent two years in this city as a child. Osho, also known as Acharya, and subsequently Bhagawan, Rajneesh, started his teaching career in a college in Raipur in 1957.

If you thought of Raipur as some hick town in the middle of India, you would be seriously mistaken. Raipur is a major commercial centre. Its economy was based on agricultural-processing, steel, cement, alloy, ordinary and flattened (Poha) rice. In recent years, it has become a major centre for coal, power, plywood, steel and aluminium industries. Raipur is the largest market of steel in India; there are about 200 steel rolling mills, 195 sponge iron plants, more than six steel plants, about 60 plywood factories, 500 agro-industries and about 35 ferro-alloy plants. The region has around 800 rice milling plants, and all major and local cement manufacturing companies in India are in Raipur. The city is also a major educational hub. The average literacy rate exceeds 86 percent. It has scores of colleges, universities, engineering, medical and management institutes. The city boasts 11 Hindi TV news channels, 14 English and Hindi newspapers, six radio stations, six shopping malls (four more under construction), three museums, an art gallery, an energy park and three 5D movie theatres. Raipur is the future face of India.

Viju and Mahesh live on the ground floor of an apartment block in Raipur with their two kids and Mahesh's mother, who is very happy to meet Babs. As Babs chats with her, Jayashree plays with the kids, Guna and Saro catch up with Viju and I wait patiently for the highly touted meal. Babs tells us that Mahesh can sing very well too. He asks Mahesh to sing, who sings a couple of devotional songs on Lord Karthikeya. Then Babs asks Viju to sing his favourite song on Lord Ayyappa. Soon we are feasting on regular South Indian fare of idlis and bonda with coconut chutney. As Babs promised, Viju does not disappoint. Her culinary skills are exemplary. After generously gorging on South Indian idlis and bondas, I also have rice with sambhar and with yogurt. It is a very satisfying meal. And the company is pleasant. Viju addresses her husband as Maheshji, which I find cute. I like Viju. She is friendly and caring. We feel part of her extended family.

Viju and Mahesh have arranged accommodation for us in Kawardha. It is a small town of about 45,000 people, which is around 120 kilometres from Raipur. It is famous for a temple for Shiva called the Bhoramdeo Temple. The temple is more historic than religious, built between the seventh and 11th centuries, on the lines of the famous Khajuraho temple. Viju and Mahesh are planning to take Babs and us there. Babs travels with the Mahesh and Viju family in their car. We follow the Suzuki. It is a little more than two hours by car but the road is in a reasonably good condition.

It is almost 10 pm when we arrive at Hotel Royal Celebration in Kawardha. It seems quite new and clean. Staff appears to be friendly. It has a rating of 4.1/5 on Google reviews. Someone says 'The best hotel and restaurant @ kawardha'. A couple of others have helpfully added that it is 'best/nice hotel in kwd'. kwd presumably is an acronym for Kawardha. We check into our rooms and Babs bids us a good night. It has been a long day, driving from Jagdalpur to Raipur and then to Kawardha. We are tired.

Our room is better than the one in Hotel Suri International, Jagdalpur. Jayashree discovers that the ensuite bathroom has an Indian-style toilet. I call the Reception and ask the man if there are any other rooms with a Western-style toilet. He says that the rooms with Western-style toilets have been given to Babs, Guna/Saro and Viju/Mahesh family. It appears that we are the only ones with the Indian-style toilet in the bathroom. I feel strangely sanguine. When you travel with Babs, you have to be prepared for contingencies. Next morning, squatting on the Indian-style toilet is less challenging than I anticipate. After a bath we are refreshed and happy. We step into the corridor and find Adyant and Aadya playing there. We greet the others and gather in Babs's room for the morning homam.

Breakfast at Royal Celebration is served outside in the garden. It is quite pleasant although a little nippy early in the morning in January. We are not carrying any warm clothing as we did not plan to travel to North India. The breakfast is my favourite North Indian fare of alu paratha and dahi. There is also toast for others not inclined towards North Indian cuisine. It tastes good. I complement it with Indian-style tea (chai). There are a couple of monkeys watching us curiously.

After breakfast, we check out. As I am about to pay for our rooms, Viju insists on paying for Babs' room. I am in a dilemma. I don't wish to offend her but I know that Babs is very particular about paying for his own expenses. I suggest that she ask Babs directly. She pleads with Babs, who seems genuinely amused. He agrees to her request and both Viju and Mahesh are happy. They want to take us to the Bhoramdeo Temple but Babs insists on pressing forward towards Kashi, also known as Benares or Varanasi.

Our route to Kashi is through Allahabad, which is about 500 kilometres from Kawardha. It is about 11-12 hours away on Indian roads. We are already behind schedule due to our foray through the Red Corridor. Babs doesn't want to waste any more time. He asks Mahesh to find out the shortest route to Allahabad. Mahesh asks the people at the Reception desk. After some discussion, the man at the Reception writes down a route to Allahabad through a town in Madhya Pradesh called Rewa.

On Google Maps, there are two routes to Rewa from Kawardha. You can take the NH 12A (also the same as the State Highway 11) through Mandla, Shapura, Umaria, Barni and Maihar. It is nearly 470 kilometres or about eight hours by car. The shorter route is about 363 kilometres on State Highway 9 through Pandaterai skirting the edge of the Achanakmar Wildlife Sanctuary and estimated to take about seven hours. Inexplicably, the man at the Reception desk suggests a third route, through a place called Amarkantak. Of course, you can't rely on Google Maps in India, as we painfully found out on the way to Jagdalpur. This time Babs decides to accept the route suggested by the hotel staff.

To reach Amarkantak, we have to take the NH 12A to a place called Pondi and then the State Highway 5 to another place called Pandaria. We have to turn left at Pandaria, go through exotic-sounding places like Munmuna, Polni, and Agarpani along the edge of the Achanakmar Wildlife Sanctuary on the way to Amarkantak. Somewhere on this route State Highway 5 becomes State Highway 9. Amarkantak is about 136 kilometres from Kawardha, nearly three hours on the road. Rewa is about 270 kilometres from Amarkantak, around four and a half hours by car.

After customary hugs, Babs bids farewell to Viju and Mahesh family. As I watch them, I realise that we have travelled all the way to Raipur just to see Viju. We could have gone from Vijayawada to Kashi on alternate routes that were probably better in terms of road conditions. But Babs insisted on taking this route because he wanted to see Viju. I am touched by Babs's love for people. He is willing to face discomfort and, if necessary, travel on roads with land mines to demonstrate his loyalty to people who have faith in him. He never complains about any of this. Babs is good fun most of the time. Just occasionally, he makes you cry - out of love.

We pile into the Ford Fiesta and head towards Amarkantak. As in the previous day, it is a pleasant drive through a part of India that is not on the tourist circuit. It is sparsely populated with tiny villages scattered on our route. This is the heart of India, consisting of simple folk living uncomplicated lives, yet to be polluted by Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and 60-inch flat screen TVs. The economic prosperity so vulgarly on display in India's city malls is conspicuous by its absence here. This part of India is yet to witness the economic miracle that the city elite keep crowing about in mindless talk shows on various national TV channels. On our route, we encounter an occasional youth with a backpack herding goats. Babs comments on their simple lifestyle and tells us that he is probably carrying his lunch in the backpack. I idly wonder what he eats for lunch; probably not alu paratha with pickles and dahi.

65 percent of Indian population is under 35 years. In India they call this the demographic dividend. The Indian elite are proud about democracy, demand and the demographic dividend. They tout these as the three factors that will drive economic prosperity. In the heart of India, where there are no schools or roads, the demographic dividend is driving goats.

In the car, Babs starts talking about his family. Someone in the ashram found out that his daughter is on Facebook and emailed her about Babs. The daughter seemed delighted to re-establish contact. Babs tells us that his son and daughter are doing very well in the United States. He says that he heard from his daughter that his son has become a billionaire. I detect a hint of pride in his voice. This is another one of those occasions that he almost makes me cry. Babs parted from his family in rather unpleasant circumstances. His son, along with a boy that was about to be engaged to his daughter, assaulted him, severely injuring him. Yet Baba harbours no ill-will or resentment for them. In fact, he rejoices in their success and achievement. Sometimes his goodness depresses me. There isn't network connectivity on the route we are travelling. I make a mental note to checkout his family later on Facebook.

The conversation in the car turns to declining moral values among the youth. Babs tells us that some college girls have re-invented themselves as high-class prostitutes, offering their services to a wealthy clientele through the Internet. Most of the youth, Babs says, has had multiple partners before marriage. He tells us that a girl that he knows has an African boyfriend. Babs asked the girl why she preferred an African, instead of an Indian. She confided in him that sex was better with her African boyfriend. Babs, ever the curious seeker of knowledge, wanted to know how or why he is better. He asked her if he was better endowed physically. She told him that it was stamina, not size, that mattered. In bed, the African could go on, and on, and on. Indian boys, apparently, lacked such vigour and stamina. Babs tells us all this with a curiosity and innocence characteristic of a scientific explorer. Saro and Jayashree are speechless and giggle nervously. Guna concentrates on his driving. I am beginning to find the conversation hilarious. It is good to know that Indians have started outsourcing sex to Africa. I also wonder why no one ever tells me anything about their sex life.

You can't take Babs literally. He is prone to exaggeration, just to make a point. He once told me that a wealthy businessman in Chennai had paid ten million Rupees to spend a night with a very well-known Bollywood actress. During our trip to Badrinath, Babs told me that he had more than 200 girlfriends, prior to his spiritual awakening in 1984. I refused to believe him. We had e-mail exchanges where I pulled his leg, suggesting that it was more likely to be two or 20. The topic comes up in this trip. Guna maintains that it could be true because Babs can do anything. I tell him that I don't doubt his ability. I am sceptical about his willingness. Babs admits that he just made it up and it is not true. While Babs often says outrageous things, deep inside, he is a very moral and conservative person. He has made enormous sacrifices, faced many hardships, and severely disciplined his mind to reach his present state.

Babs is a true yogi but he is also a siddha. Siddhas are like tantriks. A yogi contracts him or herself. He or she controls their desires and leads an ascetic or austere life. Tantriks have the same goal as yogis; that is to realise divinity, but they approach it through expansion. They experience life as it is and don't consider anything good or bad, pure or impure and sin or virtue. They aim to experience God as totality. Most people cannot understand tantriks but yogis are easy to understand. Paramacharya, the Sage of Kanchi, was the quintessential yogi. Babs is a siddha. Their quest is the same but the formats are different. Think of them as firms with different business models. The siddha part of Babs will outrage, confuse, challenge and mislead you. However, he doesn't impose his values on others. Nor does he judge them, when they behave differently. Babs can mostly make you laugh. Sometimes, he can make you shed tears. But he can never disappoint you. Like Krishna or Shiva, he is playful, not promiscuous.

We have been travelling for more than three hours on the road and there is no sign of Amarkantak. We also seem to be climbing a hill. I realise that we haven't seen anyone either on the road or by the side of the road for quite a while. We seem to be lost. We are in some kind of forest, once again. We seem to have missed the turn at Pandaria and now are most likely in the middle of Achanakmar Wildlife Reserve. The road suddenly becomes very steep. We pass a group of men idling on the side of the road. A little ahead the road forks into two paths. One is a steep climb through jagged rocks. The other seems relatively flat. Neither of the paths is a sealed road. One is rocky while the other is a dirt track. We ask the men which one to take to Amarkantak. They tell us that both ways lead to Amarkantak but suggest that we take the steep rocky path, if we wish to reach there quickly. I wonder if it is a metaphor for life.

As we start climbing on the steep path, Guna is beginning to get stressed. It reminds him of the road to Jagdalpur from Badrachalam. After climbing for a few minutes, carefully navigating the boulders on the path, he stops the car. He says he doesn't want to damage the car. I get off the car and walk back to the group of men that gave us the directions. I ask them about the road condition. They say that vehicles regularly travel on that path and that we should be able to make it. One of them offers to drive us over the hill to flatter ground in exchange of payment. I quickly get back to the car and we have a short conference. Babs suggests that we should survey the path ahead by foot to see if it gets any better. Jayashree and I set off on foot to survey what lies ahead.

The path continues on a steep climb for quite some distance and then we are on a flat dirt track surrounded by trees on both sides. There is no one around and it is eerily silent. I can't believe that we are in India. There is something about the peace, serenity and silence that seem out of this world. I am beginning to wonder why we are here. Although somewhat rocky, the path seems okay. We rush back to the car and inform Babs. But Guna is reluctant to take the car any further on the steep climb which also had jagged boulders on the way. We decide to take the longer, flatter dirt track. Guna reverses the car all the way back to the fork and turns into the flatter path. The path seems okay and we are relieved. After a few minutes of driving, we come across a truck that is parked on the path. It is blocking our way. No one seems to be around. There is a man standing by the side of the truck. We ask him to move the truck. He says that he has nothing to do with the truck. He doesn't know where the driver has gone. The only choice for us is to drive around the truck but we would have to get off the dirt track. The side of the track is filled with rocks and pebbles. Babs asks Guna to just drive around the truck but Guna is reluctant. He feels that the car may get damaged.

Babs asks me if I could take it around the truck. I survey the scene. It is a little risky but doable. Besides, we don't have other options. Saro, Jayashree and Guna get down from the car. Babs and I are left in the car. I do a short prayer, start the engine and ease the car carefully around the truck. It is a piece of cake. Babs is pleased. As we wait in the car for others to catch up, Babs says, "You drive". He puts me in a dilemma. If I do as he is asking me to do, Guna might feel hurt. On the other hand, if I refuse to accept his suggestion, Babs might get annoyed. I weigh my options - should I annoy Babs or hurt Guna. In the Indian tradition, you have to unquestioningly obey your spiritual mentor. I am in a tight stop. I quickly decide that annoying Babs is better. He might sulk and not talk to me for a while but then he will get over it. Besides, I know for sure that Babs would never leave me. Why hurt poor Guna? So I tell Babs that I don't think it is a good idea for me to drive. I tell him that Guna might feel hurt, if he is suddenly relieved of his responsibility. Babs doesn't say anything but he doesn't seem annoyed.

The others catch up and I get off the driver's seat. Guna starts the car as soon as we are all settled. Although the dirt track is flat, it is also rocky in places. Guna drives slowly so that we don't have a breakdown in the middle of that forest with no visible presence around. The place is unbelievably tranquil. There is something ethereal about the surroundings. Soon a man with four camels passes us. I hang out of the car and take a picture. Other than the man with camels, we don't encounter anyone on the track. We pass an empty shack of huts that seems like the village market. A little later, we pass a small shrine under a tree with a lone figure seated there. As the track curves towards the right, Babs suggests that we stop and ask for directions. Jayashree and I get off the car and head towards the shrine. The lone figure turns out to be a trans-gendered person. Imagine encountering a person from the LGBT community in the middle of India. We ask for directions to Amarkantak and are told that we are on the right path. We pass a convoy of people in tractors. They are probably heading for the village market. Soon the dirt track turns into a semi-decent sealed road as we enter Amarkantak.

Amarkantak, it turns out, is a place of extraordinary spiritual significance. It is the origin of the holy river Narmada. Hindus believe that bathing in one five holy rivers, Ganges, Yamuna, Narmada, Godaveri and Cauvery, washes away all sins. Narmada is an ancient river, probably predating even the river Ganges. It is mentioned in the Hindu epics of Ramayana and Mahabharatha. The mythology associated with Narmada states that the river was formed from the sweat of Lord Shiva, who was in intense meditation. The stones from the Narmada River are considered sacred due to the river's association with Lord Shiva. The lingam-shaped stones are called Banalinga. One of the biggest of these Banalingas is in the Brihadeeswara Temple in Thanjavur, Tamil Nadu. The great Hindu saint Adi Shankara met his guru Govinda Bhagavatpada on the banks of the Narmada River. The Narmada River flows east to west over a length of about 1300 kilometres before draining into the Arabian Sea in Gujarat. It is the lifeline of the Indian state of Madhya Pradesh. In recent years, the river is also associated with a huge controversy associated with the government's intention to build 30 large, 135 medium and 300 small dams to harness the waters of Narmada and its tributaries. Supporters of the project promise increased water supply and electricity. Opponents of the project claim that the plan is misguided, iniquitous, and based on bad science.

Babs says that all great spiritual traditions arose in river civilisations, i.e., from people settled on banks of great rivers. On the banks of the holy river Narmada, there are many well-known temples. If you want to freak out completely, you could start from the place where Narmada flows into the Arabian Sea in Gujarat, walk along the river, all the way to Amarkantak and walk all the way back on the opposite bank. It is a 2,600 kilometre trek and will probably age you or transform you. If you walked for five hours a day at a speed of four kilometres an hour, you would take about five months to complete the journey. Many saints and sages in India have completed this trek.

Amarkantak is also the meeting place of two great saints - Guru Nanak and Kabir. Guru Nanak is the 15th century saint who founded the Sikh religion in Punjab. Kabir was a 15th century mystic saint from Kashi. Both preached against orthodoxy and social discrimination. They advocated purity and surrender to God and were against idol worship. They did not favour renouncing one's duties as a householder to seek God. They both believed that God could be attained by leading a noble, sincere, and truthful life. They preached a message of universal brotherhood.

I believe that there are specific places on the Earth which probably act as confluence of divine energies. Amarkantak seems to be such a place. Itis also a Maha Rudra Meru - a rectangular area containing millions of Shiva Lingas. The only other place on Earth that is a Maha Rudra Meru is the holy city of Kashi or Benares. Amarkantak is a place of worship for all the three worlds. Like Kashi, anyone who dies here goes to heaven. The serenity and peace that we experienced in Achanakmar Wildlife Reserve was probably a reflection of the divine energies there.

Despite its spiritual significance, we don't stop at Amarkantak. We are behind schedule and have to get to Allahabad by the evening. First, we need to find the road to Rewa. Guna stops the car to ask for directions. I accost a man on a motorcycle. He stops and is very helpful. He gives us detailed instructions on how to get on to the State Highway. Rewa is about five hours away, through Shahdol. I thank the man. He tells me not to thank him as he is only being human. I can see the effects of divine energies on people. We follow his instructions and reach the state highway without mishap. The road appears quite decent by Indian standards. As we go through Shahdol, we are in the state of Madhya Pradesh. I notice that it feels less tribal and serene. In the car, we consume the packets of snacks. Babs regales us with Tamil film dialogues. Mostly we are silent. I reflect on the strange experience of going through the Wildlife Reserve and Amarkantak. Something about the place seemed unreal. I wonder why we went there.

It is nearly 7 pm as we roll into Rewa. Allahabad is about three hours from Rewa. Babs is keen to push on to make up for the last time. We are scheduled to meet another couple, Srinivasan (Cheenu) and his lovely wife Latha, who have driven from Kanpur to Allahabad. They are to accompany us to Kashi. They have also booked rooms for all of us in a hotel in Allahabad.

The town of Rewa, another name for the Narmada River, is the administrative centre of Rewa district in the state of Madhya Pradesh. The town, which has more than twice the population of Raipur, was once the capital of the princely state of Rewa. Although it also has a number of educational institutions, its average literacy rate at 73 percent, is lower than Raipur's 86 percent. The government of Madhya Pradesh is planning to build India's largest solar power plant in Raipur district producing 700 megawatts of electricity. The town of Rewa, unlike Raipur, is not particularly known for anything. Even the Wikipedia has nothing much to say except to note that "Rewa is famous for its harmony and enormous limestone resources." It probably is a hick town.

Guna notices that the tank is almost empty. He spots a service station and pulls into it for diesel. There are a bunch of people who seem like truck drivers. As soon as they see us, they get excited. They seem to shout at us pointing to the car. Mystified, we get out of the car to see what they are excited about. They are pointing to the rear tyre on the right. It is flat. I have noticed, while travelling with Babs, that the vehicle almost always breaks down at a convenient location. Just next to the service station, there is a hotel that looks posh and new. Babs suggests that we check into the hotel for the night and get the tyre fixed. He asks me to inform Latha and Cheenu that we won't be in Allahabad for the night so that they can cancel the reservation. I call Latha on her cell phone and convey the bad news. She is disappointed because she is desperate to see Babs.

Guna parks the car by the side, inside the service station. I ask one of the people who seems to be in charge to get us someone to change the tyre and get it fixed. He says he will send someone to get us a mechanic. While Guna waits there, the rest of us walk to the hotel valled Landmark. Hotel Landmark seems more upmarket than the ones we have stayed during this trip. There is a cute young girl at the Reception Desk. There are a couple of young men in suits hanging around aimlessly. I can't see anyone else in the hotel. The cute receptionist is friendly. We enquire about room rates. She consults one of the younger men and he quotes Rs.7,500 for two double rooms and a single room. It seems to be reasonable to me. I look at Babs. He tells me in Tamil to bargain for Rs.5,500. I am not averse to bargaining but I do experience some embarrassment in making the counter offer. The young man, who seems to be the manager, doesn't seem surprised. Perhaps they are used to people haggling over room rates. He hums and haws. We tell him that our car is getting fixed and we are forced to stay there for the night. We also hint that we would look for other hotels, if they don't agree to our offer. The man continues to be non-committal. Babs tells me to hand over Rs.5,500 and take a receipt. The girl looks uncertain but takes the money. The young man agrees reluctantly. I begin to understand why Babs was a successful businessman and I am not.

As we don't have reservations, the receptionist asks for proof of identity. I produce our New Zealand passports. Babs tells her we are all overseas visitors who have come to India to visit him. He tells her that Saro is from Malaysia but lived in Dubai before. The girl's eyes light up. She says her dream is to go to Dubai one day. I can see why someone who has lived all their life in Rewa would be desperate to flee to Dubai. Obviously, the harmony and enormous limestone reserves of Rewa have failed to hold her back. Overcome with compassion, I point to Babs and tell her that he is the greatest living saint on Earth. I tell her that if he wills, she would be in Dubai in no time. She looks at him uncertainly. Luckily, with his shaved head and beard, Babs does look like a sage. Babs seems amused. He smiles and tells her that her wish would be fulfilled. She takes a long time to make photocopies of our passports and write out the receipt. Efficiency doesn't seem to be a performance criterion at Hotel Landmark.

While Babs, Jayashree and Saro go to the hotel restaurant for dinner, I rush back to the service station. I get a couple of people from the hotel to take our bags to our rooms. Guna is sitting inside the car. There is no sign of any mechanic. I ask the man if he dispatched someone to get a mechanic. He mumbles something about not being able to find a mechanic. We decide to organise the job ourselves. Guna takes out the spare tyre and the jack. There is a bunch of men, probably, truck drivers, who are hanging around watching us. I ask one of them, a tall man, to change the tyre for us. He commands the others to do the job. He probably sees himself as a leader not suited for manual labour, which is so typical of India. The men try to loosen the wheel nuts with the wheel wrench. The wheel nuts seem stuck. Three of them try to loosen the nuts but give up. I try the wrench. The nut seems stuck really hard. I can't even move it slightly. I am surprised how easily the two men in the forest on the way to Jagdalpur were able to change the tyre. Four of us have a go again but the nut refuses to budge. Suddenly a short man emerges from somewhere and asks us to step aside. He takes the wrench and heaves it. The nut comes loose. He loosens all the four nuts. The car is jacked up, the spare tyre is inserted and the nuts are fastened again. I ask one of the service station attendants where to find a mechanic to patch the flat tyre. He gives us directions.

The men who helped us change the tyre are waiting expectantly. I ask them how much they want. They tell me to pay them appropriately. I give a Rs.100 note to the informal leader. He gives a sarcastic laugh and waves his hand in a comic gesture. The others are beginning to look hostile. I can sense that the friendly bunch has quickly become an unfriendly mob. The leader put up five fingers, indicating Rs.500. Considering that they were not particularly successful in loosening the tyre, I find the price too high. I tell him that it is ridiculous. He is openly aggressive now. Guna, who can't speak Hindi, is sitting in the car watching the proceedings with growing anxiety. I normally dislike any confrontation or violence. I am also an outsider in a strange new town. But I don't like to be pushed. Besides, travelling with Babs has made me fearless.

In India, a mob is like a bully. If they sense any fear, they will become aggressive. I decide it is time to stop sounding reasonable and friendly. Reluctantly, I decide to assert class. I look the leader in the eye and tell him sternly not to raise his hand in front of me. Years of socialisation kick in and he backs off immediately. The others look lost and uncertain. I am surprised too. I am beginning to feel like Al Pacino in The Godfather. I realise that Rs.100 is not going to cut it with this mob. I give him Rs.200, which is about three US dollars. He seems happy and grateful. The others bow in gratitude too. There is palpable easing of tension. The mob transitions back to the friendly bunch. Guna is full of praise for my handling a potentially ugly situation. But the experience has left me a little shaken and still angry.

We get into the car and I direct Guna to the place suggested by the service station attendant. As we are driving, Guna expresses remorse and regret. He is upset that we have had two flat tyres. He is blaming himself and feels that he has let down Babs. I console Guna saying that it is not his fault. I tell him that roads in India on which we travelled were atrocious. He is still disconsolate. I am surprised but secretly pleased that I refused to take over the driving on the way to Amarkantak. We manage to find the tyre repair shop by the side of the road. It appears closed. I ask around and we are told that it usually opens around nine in the morning. We decide to return the next morning.

At Hotel Landmark, Jayashree is waiting for us. She looks smug and pleased, just having finished dinner with Babs. I am famished. We haven't had a major meal since our hearty breakfast at Kawardha. She tells me that Babs ordered a khichdi for each one of them and some rotis with vegetables. She says they ended the meal with chai (Indian tea). Khichdi is a popular North-Indian dish made of rice and lentils. Vegetables like potatoes, cauliflower and peas are usually added. Khichdi was a favourite dish of the Sai Baba of Shirdi, one of the well-known saints in India that Jayashree and I revere. Guna and I enter the restaurant. It is around 9 pm and there are a couple of tables occupied mostly by groups of youth. I order khichdi, rotis (Indian bread) and a vegetable curry (sabji) along with our customary bottles of mineral water. The food is good. It probably tastes more delicious because we are starving. Guna is no longer remorseful. We consume the meal, almost in silence, sit back contented and have a cup of chai. Life looks good.

I bid farewell to Guna and head for our room. The room is neat and clean. The bathroom seems decent. Hotel Landmark has received mixed reviews on TripAdvisor. Scarlett1989 from Mumbai is delighted with the hotel. She writes: "This was an absolute pleasant surprise! The hotel feels like a metro city 4 star hotel. The rooms are very spacious, neat and clean with all basic amenities. The service is excellent with friendly staff. The food is prepared well and served timely. There is a lot of variety. There was not a single aspect on which the hotel disappointed. They even allowed a 6 pm checkout, provided drop to the station and packed food for the overnight train. Extremely good stay! Keep it up."

Regrettably, Ravikanth Reddy from Visakhapatnam, Andhra Pradesh does not share Scarlett1989's exuberance. Although, he writes: "The look of the hotel and the rooms are simple the best, didn't except this sort of facility in the city like rewa. the rooms are spacious and ventilated enough with giving a star look, the lobby is well maintained. The food served is delicious and the guys were friendly. bathrooms were also as neat as rooms," he has also had bitter experiences. He says: "the bitter experiences are wifi worked only one day during my week long stay, found rat in the room on day one they removed it and again i saw one more on the last day, laundry they are sending out so we need to give in evening and need to collect other day evening, check out process was pathetic as the staff had no clue of the software, as the hotel had a great look there were regular weddings or party's going on so, be prepared for lot of disturbance, lift never worked during my week long stay. the in house phones used to ring during night at wee hours like 3am disturbing the sleep so, need to remove the cord before sleeping. The complementary breakfast has only one variety with poha as common, the worst part is there was no hot water available so the boys used to get water in bucket on request." Clearly, he is an unhappy customer but he sounds earnest and apologetic with a distressing unwillingness to capitalise the first-person pronoun: "i sincerely suggest the management need to have a good housekeeping manager to see the things settle properly, with the look of rooms and the hotel, we cannot expect so many complaints. i would rather stay there next time hoping things improve." He also adds a useful tip: "please dont take room 102 this is where i stayed and found 2 rats."

We are not staying in Room 102 and luckily there don't appear to be any rats in our room. The bed is comfortable and the sheets are clean. We have been travelling the whole day, haven't had lunch and have had astonishing experiences. It is nearly 11 pm and as I slip into the bed I notice that I am happy, contented and not tired at all.

That's what happens to you when you travel with Babs.
5. Moksha in Kashi

It is the morning of January 6, 2014. We are in Hotel Landmark in Rewa. I have no idea why we are there because we didn't plan to be there. As always, we are up early morning and after our morning shower, assemble in Babs' room for the homam. Babs performs the homam, goes into deep meditation, and we sit silently trying to focus our stray thoughts. After his meditation and prayer, Babs asks Jayashree to sing. After the homam, we go downstairs to the restaurant for breakfast.

There is only a solitary individual in the restaurant. He seems to be reading something. As we pass him, I glance over his shoulder. He seems to be reciting his morning prayer from a little Tamil prayer book. We sit a couple of tables away from him and wait for our complimentary breakfast. It is poha - a flattened rice dish cooked with potatoes, onions, green chillies, peanuts, and coriander leaves. We supplement it with some alu parathas and then order tea.

I tell Babs that the man sitting on the other table is from Tamil Nadu. Babs waves at him and invites him to join us. He is happy to join us. He tells us that he is a Regional Manager at the National Bank for Agriculture and Rural Development and is on a business trip to Rewa. I introduce him to Babs. He seems to have heard of Babs. He smiles and refers to Babs as the "Dance Samiyar (the dancing saint)". In his Neelankarai days, Babs would occasionally go into a trance and dance in ecstasy. For the archly conservative and conventional people of Tamil Nadu, saints are not supposed to dance. Like 'Kulla' Viju, Babs became 'Dance' Samiyar. It is usually used in a sarcastic or derisive tone. I think it is particularly insensitive for the man to say that to Babs. But Babs doesn't seem to mind. He cordially enquires about the man's family and invites him to visit his ashram, Ramarajya, in Chennai with his family. The man nods in agreement but I know that he would never visit. The foolishness of people never ceases to amaze me. The man is obviously religious, as he was reciting his morning prayers. Yet he shows no curiosity or interest in someone who has actually experienced God.

After breakfast, we go back to our rooms to pack up. Guna and I have to get the punctured tyre fixed before we leave Rewa. Saro, Guna and I take the stairs while Babs and Jayashree decide to take the elevator. We reach our rooms but there is no sign of Jayashree or Babs. We climb down to see if they are still on the ground floor. They are not there. We go back to see if they have arrived. They are not on our floor. We look for them in the intermediate floors. There is no trace of them. They seem to have vanished without trace. Guna starts calling out to Babs as we go through different floors. We hear a faint noise near the elevator. We realise that they are stuck in the elevator. We go down to the Reception and ask for help. A man arrives and tries to open the outside doors of the elevator using a screw driver and a hammer. He forces the door open. We see the elevator a few inches above the floor. Babs and Jayashree are standing there. They present a comical sight - an impassive giant standing next to a startled mouse. But they don't seem anxious or stressed.

While Saro, Babs and Jayashree stay back, Guna and I drive to the place we had visited the previous evening. Mercifully, the shop is open. The mechanic seems to know his job. He locates the puncture and seals it with a plug coated with rubber cement. Guna approves his work and doesn't ask for wheel balancing. We pay the mechanic and drive back to the hotel. We check out of our rooms and have to wait for a while before the Receptionist is able to give me a copy of the receipt. Clearly, Hotel Landmark hasn't embraced the concept of 'Express Checkout'.

Allahabad is about 150 kilometres from Rewa. The route takes us through a major district road to NH 76, which connects Allahabad to Pindwara in Rajasthan. There is a fair bit of road construction along the way. Occasionally, we have to get off the highway and drive through mud, pebbles and rocks. Soon, we are on a fairly decent road that appears to be the national highway. Inside the car, everyone is cheerful. It always surprises me that when you travel with Babs, there are no accumulated stresses or tensions. Every day is a new day and it is as if the past is erased. We don't remember the drive through the forests to Jagdalpur or through the Achanakmar Wildlife Reserve, the previous day.

Babs talks about his spiritual activities between 1988 and 1997. During this period, he made several trips to Malaysia. In one of these trips, while visiting Penang in Malaysia, someone requested him to cure a boy who was lying in a coma in a hospital. Babs visited the hospital and sat on the bed in which the boy was lying and held his hand. Rather unexpectedly, the boy came out of the coma and sat upright. Babs says he gave people in Malaysia many experiences of his divinity and yet most of these people did not come to see him in subsequent visits.

In 1997, Babs visited Coimbatore in Tamil Nadu. The region was drought-stricken. A group of people approached Babs and prayed to him for rain. Babs was visiting Valli Malai nearby with a small group. He asked someone to gather some water from an almost dry pond. The water was muddy and Babs, praying to God, poured it over a linga (performing abhishekam) in a small temple on the hill. By the time Babs and his group reached Coimbatore, hailstones began to rain down, bringing joy to the people. I have heard these stories before but I never tire of listening to them again.

Our Holy Communion inside the Ford Fiesta is rudely interrupted as one of the tyres goes flat.

Guna deftly steers the car to the side. We all get out and survey the damage. It is the left rear tyre now. It is indeed very flat. Guna is not happy. There seems to be a garden on our side of the road. Babs spots a man inside the garden and beckons him. He is the gardener. Babs asks him if he can change the tyre for us. The gardener readily agrees. He is very helpful and obliging. The rest of us unload the bags from the back of the car so that we can take the newly repaired spare tyre and the jack out. Guna hands him the wrench and the gardener loosens the nuts effortlessly. Guna tells him how to insert the jack and lift the car.

While he is changing the tyre, Babs engages the gardener in a conversation. He asks him how much he earns as a gardener. The gardener replies that he gets paid Rs.2,500 a month. Babs asks him if it is enough. The gardener says that it is not as he has to take care of a big family. Babs tells him that he would pay him Rs.8,000 a month if he came to Chennai and took care of the gardens in the ashram. The gardener replies that he doesn't want to leave his aged parents and go to Chennai. He says" "I may be poor but I have values". I am stunned by his nobility. I feel sad that a hard-working noble soul is poor. As he is tightening the nuts on the spare tyre, I mentally resolve to give him Rs.500 for changing the tyres.

Babs asks for the packets of biscuits that we have in the car to eat on the way. He tells the gardener that he is a saint, blesses him and his family and gives the two packets of biscuits. The gardener is very happy. I ask Babs how much I should pay him. Babs says: "Give him Rs.50." I look at him in disbelief. Babs sees the expression on my face and says: "Give him fifty Rupees first. If he is not happy, then give him more." I decide to obey Babs. I give him a Rs.50 note. The gardener is very happy and grateful. I feel bad that I paid the truck drivers two hundred rupees the previous day. We bid farewell to the noble gardener and continue on our journey.

Guna feels nervous about driving the car without a spare tyre. Babs tells him to get the tyre repaired in Allahabad. It is mid-afternoon now and some of us, including Babs, are looking for a toilet stop. We see a roadside restaurant and Babs suggests that we have tea and use the toilets. As the others depart for the toilets, I order tea for all of us. One of the men there asks me where we are from. I tell him that we are from Chennai. He looks blank. I say that it is a city in Tamil Nadu. He continues to look blank. Suddenly his eyes light up. He smiles and says, "Jayalalitha?" She is the actress-turned-politician, who is the Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu. In India, obviously personalities are more important than places.

While we are having tea, I ask Babs a question that has been at the back of my mind. I ask Babs if I would really miss something important if I don't visit Kashi. "Is it really all that sacred and important?" I ask him. Babs doesn't seem to mind the question. He smiles enigmatically and says, "It is not like that. Our ancients considered the city holy. Even saints like Adi Shankara and Paramacharya of Kanchi considered the place very special. So there must be something spiritual about the place."

We finish our tea, pay the bill and leave. Soon we are in the outskirts of Allahabad. As we drive towards the city, we see a row of shops on our side of the road. There is a tyre retail outlet next to a tyre repair shop. Guna stops the car in front of the repair shop. We take the flat tyre out. The repair shop is run by a kid in his teens. I ask the kid if we can get the tyre fixed. He is a kid of few words. Without a word, he mounts the tyre on what looks like a rudimentary tyre changer and inserts two bare wires into an electrical socket. I can see that the kid is unlikely to endear himself to health & safety aficionados. He spots the puncture. It is a gash to the side of the tyre. Guna doesn't feel comfortable about repairing it and using it as a spare tyre. We ask the kid for his opinion. He seems non-committal. Guna and I debate whether to buy a new tyre there or get it changed at Allahabad. Guna feels that Cheenu, who is quite resourceful, might get us a cheaper deal in Allahabad. I call Cheenu and apprise him of the situation. He replies that he would find out and call me back. While all this hectic activity is going on, Babs is in the car reading a newspaper.

We go over to the tyre retail shop to look for a new tyre. However, the owner of the shop is not there. We ask his neighbours to call him. While we wait for the owner of the shop to arrive, I nip over to the car to update Babs on the proceedings. Babs thinks it is good idea to get a new tyre. Eventually the owner arrives and gives us a quote for a new tyre. A new JK tyre is a little more expensive whereas a new MRF tyre is cheaper. Guna prefers the MRF brand. I call Cheenu to find out his views. Cheenu suggests that we buy the tyre and get it changed. We buy the MRF tyre and pay Rs.3,800 for it. We take it to the kid to get it mounted on the wheel. Guna discovers that the MRF tyre is not the tubeless version that we have on the other wheels. However, we decide to go with the choice. Finally, the tyre is mounted, the spare stashed in the boot and we are ready to leave.

As we reach the outskirts of Allahabad, I call Latha to arrange a meeting place. Latha gives directions for us to follow and soon I spot Cheenu's Renault Logan. It is manufactured in India. Cheenu has the 1.5 litre Diesel version with a five-speed manual transmission. We follow Cheenu and Latha. They take us to Prayag, which is a very sacred place for Hindus. It is a confluence of three rivers. The two visible rivers are the Ganges and the Yamuna. It is believed that they join the invisible mythical river Saraswathi. The place where the three rivers merge together is called Triveni Sangam. We drive down the river bed and park on the side. Latha and Cheenu are overjoyed to see Babs. They probably see him three or four times every year yet they greet him with the enthusiasm of someone meeting him after a long time.

Cheenu, whose real name is V. Srinivasan, is an expert in the Equestrian trade. He has more than 25 years' experience in manufacturing and marketing apparel for horse riders and clothing for horses. He is the General Manager of a firm in Kanpur that manufactures and markets Equestrian apparel. The firm employs around 1,400 people, who do knitting, weaving, dyeing, cutting, stitching, finishing and packing of horse-related apparel, producing around 5,000 garments every day. All the garments are exported to around 80 countries in the world.

The most well-known horse riding apparel is the Jodhpur, long pants reaching to the ankle but snug from the calf to the ankle, with reinforced cotton fabric inside. The original Jodhpur was flared at the hip and the thighs, allowing free movement of the hip and the thighs while riding. Dupont introduced the Lycra fabric in India in the early 1990s. After getting trained in Italy, Cheenu introduced the Lycra fabric in horse-riding apparel, particularly the Jodhpurs and Riding Pants. There aren't many people who specialise in horse-related apparel. Not surprisingly, Cheenu's expertise is widely sought in the Equestrian Trade. If you plan to ride a horse, Cheenu is the man to advise you on what you and the horse should wear.

Cheenu's wife Latha has worked as an Executive Secretary in a Danish firm in India for more than 16 years and in customer service for British Telecom for about four years. As she puts it, she is "now enjoying free life." Latha and Cheenu have two lovely daughters. They have been with Babs for more than 15 years. Latha organises the visas for Babs' frequent overseas trips. Jayashree and I met Latha and Cheenu first in 2012. We travelled with them, Babs and six others to Badrinath. Latha and Cheenu had organised the ten-day trip from New Delhi. I discovered during that trip that both Latha and Cheenu went to the same school that I had attended in New Delhi. Given the school connection, we got on very well. Babs is very fond of them. Cheenu is a little shy but very resourceful. Latha is extroverted and madly devoted to Babs.

We spend some time on the river bank, taking pictures. The place is not crowded and feels serene. Cheenu suggests that we visit the Adi Shankara Vimana Mandapam. Babs gets into the Renault with Cheenu and Latha. We follow the Renault, which takes us to a South Indian style temple built by the Shri Kanchi Kamakoti Peetham. It is a four-storey, 130-feet high temple supported by 16 strong pillars. The temple construction started in 1970 and took 16 years to complete. Various deities and idols adorn the temple. We spend some time at the temple. It is closing time and there is hardly anyone there. It is tranquil too.

Next, we depart for an evening meal. Cheenu and Latha take us to a restaurant that also serves South Indian cuisine. The grateful crew of the thrice-punctured Ford Fiesta are treated to South Indian delicacies of idli/sambhar, dosa, and Uthappam. Jayashree and I catch up with Latha and Cheenu. As we finish our meal, there is loud commotion outside. The shops in the street are pulling down their shutters. There seems to be some kind of political rally and shopkeepers, fearing violence, do not want to take chances. We don't wish to be caught in the middle of a rally and so we decide to leave. As we leave, I ask one of the restaurant staff what the rally is about. He tells me that it is the student wing of the opposition party (BJP) protesting against the formation of government by Arvind Kejriwal's AAP in Delhi. The student wing is called Akhil Bharathiya Vidyarthi Parishad (ABVP). We manage to leave before the ABVP procession arrives. We quickly get into our cars and depart for Kashi.

Kashi, also known as Varanasi and Benares, is about 125 kilometres from Allahabad. We follow Cheenu's Renault. It feels strange to be in the Ford Fiesta without Babs. We begin to miss him. NH 2 connects Allahabad to Kashi. It is a major part of the historical Grand Trunk Road - one of the longest and oldest roads in India. The route constituting the Grand Trunk Road has existed in India from the second century BCE during the Mauryan Empire. In the 16th century, Sher Shah Suri renovated and extended this route, building the predecessor of the later road. The route was upgraded to the Grand Trunk Road by the British between 1833 and 1860. During the British occupation of India, the Grand Trunk Road, running through North India, connected Chittagong in Bangladesh in the East to Kabul in Afghanistan in the West. It feels strange driving on a route that is more than 2000 years old. India is soaked in history.

Kashi is intimately tied to the Ganges River. The 2,525 kilometre long Ganges, also known as Ganga, is the most sacred river for the Hindus. The river originates in the Western Himalayas in Devprayag at the confluence of Mandakini and Alaknanda rivers. It flows southwest till it reaches Haridwar. It changes course here and starts flowing southeast through the plains of North India. It flows into the Bay of Bengal through West Bengal and Bangladesh. India's first Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru, considered Ganges to be a symbol of India's age-long culture and civilisation - ever changing, ever flowing, yet ever the same. He was not particularly religious yet wished a handful of his ashes to be thrown into the Ganges when he died. I have taken a dip in the Ganges at Haridwar and Rishikesh and can attest from personal experience that there is something special about the river. You feel peaceful and energetic after a dip in the river. You would think that a river that is considered the most sacred by the Hindus would be kept clean. The Ganges is the fifth most polluted river in the world, despite repeated initiatives to keep it clean. Corruption, poor planning and lack of coordinated action are blamed for the failure to keep it clean.

The most important cities in Indian history are located on the banks of the Ganges River. Kashi is on the west bank of the river. There are steps on the riverfront leading to the Ganges. These are called ghats. There are about 100 ghats in Kashi. The Dashwamedh, Harishchandra, and Manikarnika ghats are the most well-known because they are also cremation ghats. Most of the present day ghats were built by the rulers of the Maratha Empire in the 17th century. If you are a resident of Kashi and can rise before dawn, you can see the early-morning sun bathing the river and the city in a golden hue. It has been an amazing sight for centuries, which led to Kashi being called the City of Light.

Kashi is one of the oldest cities in the world. It is as old as Athens, Jerusalem and Beijing. However, these cities today are very different from what they were long time back. However, Kashi has an unbroken continuous tradition going all the way back to the sixth century BCE. Very little is known about the kings and queens who ruled over Kashi. For Hindus, they don't matter because Kashi is the city of Shiva. Kashi was the place where the linga of Shiva was first established. Shiva called it Avimukta, which means never forsaken. Once upon a time, in the distant past, Kashi was not a city at all. It was a Forest of Bliss, called Anandavana. Towards the south of the present city was a forest paradise full of groves, streams, and pools that attracted seekers of Truth. This was one place on Earth where divinity could be experienced directly. Yogis, ascetics, hermits, sages and saints came here to live in either solitude or in the company of other seekers of Truth (satsangh). The presence of thousands of temples in present day Kashi is a relatively recent phenomenon. Temple and deity worship in Hinduism started between the fourth century BCE and the sixth century CE. In these thousand years, Hinduism incorporated deity and temple worship in its spiritual practises. Kashi, however, is much older than that.

In the sixth century BCE, the prince Siddhartha sat in deep meditation under a tree in Gaya and became enlightened. He was known as the Buddha. After becoming enlightened, he walked the 322 kilometres between Gaya and the east bank of Ganges River near Kashi. He took a ferry and crossed the river. He found his former companions in a park outside the city. He preached to them his first sermon on the Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Noble Path. This place where he delivered his first sermon came to be known as Sarnath and was an active centre of Buddhism for more than 1,500 years. When the great Chinese traveller Hiuen Tsiang visited Kashi in the seventh century CE, he found 30 monasteries and 3,000 monks.

Seekers from other religions also sought out Kashi. The seventh tirthankara in the Jain religion was born in Kashi. The 23rd thirthankara called Parshvanatha was also born in Kashi. He was followed by Mahavira, considered to be the founder of Jainism. Mahavira, a contemporary of Buddha, also visited Kashi. Over the centuries, Kashi embraced seekers of truth from various religious traditions. Kashi has always been the vortex of spiritual energies. No matter who you are, you will find what you are looking for in Kashi.

Among others, the two well-known residents of Kashi are Kabir and Tulsidas. Kabir was born in Kashi. He was a poor Muslim weaver, who accepted the Hindu saint Swami Ramananda as his guru in his childhood. According to legend, Ramananda refused to accept Kabir as his disciple. Kabir lay on the steps of Panchaganga ghat at night. Early morning before sunrise, when Ramananda descended the steps for his bath, he tripped over the body of Kabir and exclaimed, "Ram, Ram." Kabir took these words as his guru's teaching and recited them. He became enlightened. Kabir did not become a monk or an ascetic. He did not renounce the world. He continued with his worldly life. He showed that it is possible to live in this world and attain liberation.

Tulsidas was not born in Kashi but lived there during the 16th century, when the Mughal emperor Akbar ruled over most of India. Akbar sponsored the restoration and building of many Hindu temples in Kashi during his reign. Tulsidas seems to have led a fairly dissolute life before turning to God, although I am not sure if this is true. According to popular legend, overcome with lust to have sex with his wife, Tulsidas swam through a turbulent Yamuna River in flood clutching a dead body that he mistakenly thought was a log of wood and climbed a tree, mistaking a snake for a rope. His wife seems to have been unimpressed. She told him that if he had been half as devoted to God, he would have been liberated. Stung by her criticism, Tulsidas renounced worldly life and became an ascetic. He followed in the footsteps of Swami Ramananda and became a devotee of Ram and Hanuman. He wrote the Hindi version of Ramayana called Ramcharithmanas. Tulsidas popularised the worship of Ram as God. He is also believed to be the author of Hanuman Chalisa - a collection of 40 devotional hymns addressed to Hanuman.

For more than 2,500 years, Kashi has been the most important spiritual centre for the Hindus. Kashi exemplifies the best of Hinduism - tolerance, acceptance and resilience. One of the sad aspects of history is that, over the years, Kashi has faced the onslaught of louts masquerading as devotees of God. Starting with Qutb-ud-din Aibak in the 12th century, who demolished both Sarnath and the Hindu temples of Kashi, invaders like Muhammad Ghauri, Firoze Shah Tughluq, Sharqi Kings, Sikander Lodhi, Shah Jehan and Aurangazeb have all demolished thousands of Hindu temples in Kashi and constructed mosques with the same stone blocks. Some of the greatest temples like Vishveshwara, Krittivasa, and Bindu Madhav of Kashi were razed permanently and sealed from Hindus by constructing mosques. While all the invaders have disappeared without trace, Kashi has endured and risen again. Nothing can defeat the spirit of Kashi because it is the living spirit of Hinduism. According to the Hindu tradition, if you are a genuine seeker of Truth, it doesn't matter to what religion you belong; you are most welcome in Kashi because it is the spiritual centre of the universe.

You could say that Kashi symbolises the essence of Hinduism. For a Hindu, there are four goals in life. These are called purusharthas. They define the aim of existence or living. They are: (1) dharma (right conduct); (2) artha (wealth or prosperity); (3) kama (desire, specifically sensual desire); and (4) moksha (liberation). Hindu epics like Ramayana and Mahabharatha teach us about right conduct. In Ramayana, Rama symbolises one whose life is completely dedicated to following the right conduct. In Hinduism, the word dharma also means duties and responsibilities. Rama exemplifies the conduct of a good husband, brother, friend, and king. Mahabharatha illustrates what could happen to you if you lead an unrighteous life.

Similarly, the pursuit of wealth is also legitimate in Hinduism, provided it is by righteous means. You don't have to be poor to earn the grace of God. The rich are also entitled to the same grace. The distinctive aspect of Hinduism is that it does not consider pursuit of sensual desires as sin. Only Hinduism could provide an exquisite manual of lovemaking like the Kamasutra of Vatsyayana. It is the second century equivalent of Fifty Shades of Grey. However, contrary to popular belief, Kamasutra is not just about sex - it is a guide on how to enjoy the pleasures of life.

Kashi has also been known for its love of prosperity, wealth and sensuality for several centuries. Historically, it has been famous for its exquisitely crafted silk saris, handicrafts, music, dance, and betel leaf (paan) preparations. The beauty, charm and lovemaking skills of Kashi's courtesans have been extolled in several ancient Sanskrit texts. Chewing betel leaf (paan) is a way of life in Kashi. In the city, there are hundreds of shops that provide custom-made paans to suit every individual taste.

Kashi is the city of mauj masti \- fun, joy and entertainment. Bahri alang, whch literally means 'going outside' is a quintessential Kashi activity. As a resident of Kashi, you go outside with friends to enjoy life. This may include bathing in the ghats, going on a boat trip or a picnic. Kashi is also the hub for bhang consumption. Bhang is an intoxicant made from the leaves and flowers of the Cannabis plant. The leaves and flowers are ground into a paste and mixed with milk, almonds, fennel seeds, watermelon kernel, Rose petals, pepper, cardamom, saffron, and sugar. It is called Bhang ki Thandai and is consumed during Hindu festivals such as Holi and Mahashivaratri. For a resident of Kashi, the simple pleasures of life are washing your clothes with soap, chewing bhang and going on bahri alang. You do all these to get mauj masti. In other words, Kashi encourages you to immerse yourself in the simple joys of life and experience life fully because one day you will die. Your life will come to an abrupt end, along with your unfulfilled dreams, desires and aspirations. Most of us live a life of misery and sorrow - constantly regretting the past and worrying about the future. Kashi enjoins you to live life this moment and enjoy it. Perhaps, wash your clothes, have a nice paan, go with your friends on a picnic, eat, make merry, drink a glass of thandai and dance in ecstasy. In Kashi, God wants you to enjoy life because He will give you a good death there.

The most well-known reason for Hindus to come to Kashi is to die there. It is also the City of Death. According to Hindu belief, anyone who dies in Kashi attains moksha or is liberated from the cycle of births and deaths. As a Hindu, once you have exhausted yourself living righteously, seeking wealth and enjoying sensual pleasures, your thoughts will turn to moksha. You will start wondering about the meaning of life. The fourth goal of a good life is moksha or liberation. No one really knows what it means, although there are multiple interpretations of the word. A simple understanding of moksha is ascending to heaven. However, no one really knows if there is such a thing as heaven. You have to take it on faith.

Another popular interpretation of moksha is freedom from birth and death. Hindus believe in reincarnation. You are destined to be born again and again till you fulfil your karma, i.e., the consequences of your past actions. If you have kicked your cat in this lifetime, you will be born as a cat in the next birth and someone will administer you a hefty kick. This cycle of births and deaths continues till you stop doing stuff that produces consequences. The popular Hindu belief is that living in Kashi and bathing in the Ganges will wash away your sins or karma. As long as you don't accumulate new karma, you will be free of karma. In other words, living in Kashi is enough to confer moksha or liberation. You don't need to engage in any spiritual or religious activities such as prayer, meditation, penance, yoga, or chanting. Wash your clothes, chew paan, have a thandai and enjoy life. In Kashi, life is a picnic. At the end of this picnic, Shiva will confer liberation. Every living being is entitled to liberation in Kashi. It doesn't matter whether you are a mosquito, ant, buffalo, man, woman, young, old, Brahmin, upper caste, lower caste, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, rich, poor, cook, actor, dancer, teacher, priest, pimp, prostitute, thief, businessman or a politician. In front of God, you are all the same. He does not discriminate against any one. Kashi is thus both the City of Life and the City of Death. It is the City of Light.

What I find striking about Kashi is that it symbolises the spiritual teachings of Siva Shankar Baba, also known as Babs to his closest friends. Babs says that there is nothing good or bad in this world. There is no such thing as sin or virtue. He says that you have to face the consequences of your actions. No one can escape the law of karma - as you sow, so you shall reap. There are no exemptions. God will not cancel your karma just because you went to a temple or bathed in Ganges. You will have to work out your karma by yourself. Babs' prescription for life is simple: (a) don't hurt anyone; (b) don't hurt yourself. As long as you follow (a) and (b), you can do whatever you like to make you happy. Obviously, this means that don't get addicted to anything as you will hurt yourself in the long run. It means taking care of your health but enjoying life.

Babs says that life is a picnic and your life on the outside is a permanent bahri alang. However, inside yourself, you should never forget God and always remember God. If you are totally surrendered to God inside, your outside life of bahri alang will become mauj masti. Babs says liberation cannot be obtained by renouncing the world, chanting mantras, doing penance or even just living in Kashi. True liberation is possible when you learn to accept whatever life throws at you - better or bitter, good or bad, success or failure, achievement or disappointment and joy or sorrow. When you accept life in its totality without reacting, you are ready for liberation. If you live a life of total surrender and float like a log in this world accepting everything and rejecting nothing, you will attain moksha. In other words, learn to die in this world and you will be reborn in God.

It is a beautiful philosophy. It is however hard to practice. What is the easiest way to put this philosophy into practice? Seek out a soul who is already liberated. The Sai Baba of Shirdi used to say that the feet of a liberated soul or a mahaan are the Ganges and Kashi. If you accept a mahaan to take charge of your life and completely surrender to him, you will be entitled to moksha. However, your surrender must be hundred percent, not 99.99 percent. This means you will have to get rid of your attachments, desires and ego completely. If you are able to give up your ego (sense of importance) and desires, any place that you are will become Kashi and your spiritual guide or guru will become Shiva.

There are two major impediments to this. First, it is hard to find someone today who is liberated. Most spiritual teachers are just like you and me. They are after your wallet or bank balance. They are all talk and no action. But talk is cheap. What you need is someone who really knows what he is talking about. Second, you are your own worst enemy because of the value you attach to your body and ego. You are unable to give up even the smallest of desires. You become hugely offended or hurt if someone ignores you. Imagine someone not putting 'Like' to your silly Facebook posts. You would be ready to unfriend them.

The reality of life is that every minute, you are growing old. You are so conscious of how you look and spend vast amount of time, money and energy trying to look good. There is nothing wrong with that except it is a futile quest. One day you will be old. You would not be as physically fit or attractive as you are now. If you don't know how to deal with growing old, you are in trouble. You will no longer be as important, attractive or sought after as you are in your youth. Most people will just ignore you. You may also become dependent on others. You will become miserable and unhappy. You will be very depressed. It would be too late to turn to God or pack your bags for Kashi. You are doomed. However, Babs offers a practical formula for happy life. He asks you not to attach too much importance to your body. You must do whatever is necessary to keep it in good shape. It is okay to make yourself attractive but it is not okay to obsess over your physical features. The body, Babs says, is destined for the cremation or burial ground.

Babs says: give up your desires, give up your ego and let go of your body consciousness. Then you will experience God. Babs is already liberated. I have decided to attach myself to him. Every day, I try to let go of my desires and ego and surrender to him. I can truthfully say that, since meeting him first in 2009, my life is mauj masti. It is a picnic. In fact, this road trip is a bahri alang. I am with my friends. We are eating good food, visiting interesting places and enjoying life. We are with our guru who has promised us liberation. We trust him. This is what Babs is all about. It is also the essence and the secret of Kashi.

Suddenly, Kashi is starting to make sense to me. Perhaps I have been wrong all along about the city.

Cheenu and Latha have booked accommodation in Hotel Sarin Inn. It is nearly 8:00 pm when we arrive there. It is a boutique, budget hotel located in the cantonment area of the city. Its website announces:

" _The Sarin Inn Family, with over 20 yrs of experience in hospitality industry, tops the lists of budget hotels in Varanasi India. Come alone or come with your family, Sarin Inn invites you to enjoy the cultural grandeur of holy city Varanasi with comfortable, affordable and luxurious room stay. Proximity to Varanasi Railway Station, Best in Class, Sarin Inn provides you online hotel booking capability."_

As always, on TripAdvisor, the reviews are mixed. Rohit from New Delhi is very pleased: "I love hotel facility and there staff. I feel great when I come to this hotel. I stay at many properties, mainly around the Rs 3000 + per night range and this property (Hotel) ranks up there with the best of them in terms of quality people (great attitudes), amenities, facilities, etc." Another person from Mumbai is equally pleased: "all good things comes in small package.. this is what is defined by this place.. dont get confused between their branches as there are two SARIN INN in Varanasi. This one is neat n clean,very friendly environment and locationwise apt to travel. A must stay from my side."

However the hotel is unable to please someone from Chennai. He labels his experience as "Worst - Not worth the money." He complains that the hotel has only 12 rooms. He finds the lack of a dressing mirror distressing. He is unhappy that he can't walk around in his room. A girl from Delhi echoes his sentiments. She calls it the "Worst Experience...." She finds holes in her bed sheet and cockroaches on the bed. She is unhappy with the way cold coffee was delivered to her. Perhaps they both stayed in a different Sarin Inn. The one we check into is in a small building. It looks very boutique with narrow corridors and staircase. It doesn't have an elevator. But it is neat and tidy. The courteous staff carry our bags to our rooms. The room is neat. There are no holes in the bed sheet. No cockroaches visible in the horizon, either.

We gather in the corridor outside our rooms. Latha and Cheenu have brought gifts for all of us. They give me an expensive pure wool sweater and what looks like a rugby jersey by Fahren Heit Clothing. Jayashree gets a Silk Sari and a woollen shawl. Saro, Guna and Babs also are given similar gifts. Jayashree and I are overwhelmed and embarrassed. We are not carrying any gifts for them as we didn't anticipate meeting them during our India trip. I have a copy of the book I had written on Babs that was released during the New Year. I give it to Latha in exchange for the expensive clothing. All gifts are exchanged through Babs. I can see why Babs is so fond of Latha and Cheenu. Such large-hearted people are rare in the world today.

Babs asks us to get ready to visit the Kashi Vishwanath Temple.

There are thousands of Shiva lingas in Kashi. The most prominent and well-known is the one at the Kashi Viswanath Temple. Vishwanatha means the Lord of the Universe. Shiva in Kashi is not just a Hindu God. He is the only God, beyond all religions, including Hinduism. He has no form and hence worshipped as a linga - the symbol of creation. The linga in the Kashi Vishwanath temple is one of 12 Jyotir Lingas. The others are in the Shiva temples in Dwaraka & Prabas Patan (both in Gujarat), Srisailam (Andhra Pradesh), Ujjain & Omkareshwar (both in Madhya Pradesh), Aurangabad, Bhima Shankar & Triambakeshwar (all three in Maharashtra), Kedarnath (Uttarakhand), Deogarh (Jharkhand) and Rameswaram (Tamil Nadu). The Kashi Vishwanath Temple is perhaps the most sacred of the Hindu shrines.

The present Kashi Vishwanath Temple is only about 200 years old. It was built in the late 18th century by Queen Ahilyabhai Holkar of Indore, a Maratha queen. Diana Eck, a professor of comparative religion at Harvard University in the United States has written in her book Banaras: City of Light, "The history of previous temple that housed the linga of Vishveshvara is, in a nutshell, the history of Varanasi over the past thousand years: a tale of repeated destruction and desecration. Today, atop the ruins of old Vishveshvara temples, sit two different mosques, one built in the thirteenth century by Razia and one in the seventeenth century by Aurangzeb." (p. 120). Present day Kashi was largely built by Maratha rulers. They sponsored the rebuilding of some of Kashi's most important temples to show their gratitude to the city that sheltered the great Maratha Warrior-King, Shivaji. The present Vishwanath linga became prominent only in the last thousand years. Until the 12th century CE, another linga known as Avimukteshwara, was the most prominent. The Hindu Puranas written before the 12th century only mention the Avimuteshwara linga as the presiding deity of Kashi. There is no mention of the Viswanath linga, which is only mentioned in the Sanskrit texts written after the 12th century.

On the northern side of the Vishwanath Temple is a well called the Jnana Vapi Well or the 'Wisdom Well.' It is said to be ancient, dug by Shiva himself to cool the Vishwanath linga with water. In a Sanskrit text called Linga Purana, the Avimukteshwara linga is said to be located north of the Jnana Vapi Well. The original Vishwanath Temple was on top of a hill in Kashi. This temple was razed to the ground by Qutb-ud-din Aibak in the 12th century. A mosque was built on this site by Princess Razia of the Delhi Sultanate. A new Vishwanath Temple was constructed next to the Janan Vapi Well. The new temple gradually overshadowed the Avimukteshwara linga there and became prominent. This newer temple was destroyed by Aurangzeb in the 17th century and a mosque was constructed on the site. When the present temple was constructed in the late 17th century, a linga for Avimuteshwara was established in the south east corner of the present day temple.

We reach outside the Kashi Vishwanath Temple a little before 9 pm. We have to leave the cars quite some distance from the Temple as cars are not allowed near the Temple. There is heavy security with armed guards and metal detectors. Leather belts, wallets, cell phones, cameras and bags are strictly forbidden. The Kashi Vishwanath Temple is hidden in the interior of the city. Its two golden domes are not clearly visible. It has to be approached through a narrow and crowded lane called the Vishwanatha Gali (Lane). It is a narrow winding lane, full of shops on either side. We rush through the lanes eager to catch a glimpse of the Lord of the Universe. We have to pass through the shrine of Mother Annapurna or Bhavani, before entering the Vishwanath Temple. She is Kashi's queen and the giver of life and nourishment. We pray to Mother Bhavani and make our way to the Vishwanath Temple.

It is nearly 9:30 pm and the temple is not crowded. According to a Travel and Leisure website, the Kashi Vishwanath Temple attracts 21.9 million visitors every year - more than the Vatican or the Balaji Temple at Thirupathi. It is the second most-visited sacred site in the world. Fortunately, very few of the 21.9 million annual visitors are inside the temple now. It is remarkably uncrowded.

At the Kashi Vishwanath Temple, Shiva is worshipped from early morning until late at night at five principal artis - Mangala arti, Bhog arti, Sandhya arti, Shringar arti and Shayan arti. The Shringar arti is from 9:00 to 10:15 pm and the Shayan arti from 10:30 to 11:00 pm. As we enter the temple, the Shringar arti is about to begin. The main linga is inside an inner sanctum in a silver altar on a silver platform. The inner sanctum has lattice walls on three sides. Hindu temples attract a mixture of people. Most people who visit temples do so out of habit, rather than real devotion. Usually they are in the temple to petition God to fulfil worldly needs. Babs describes them as 'seasonal' devotees. Very few people visit temples out of love for God.

Inside the Kashi Vishwanath Temple, however, the atmosphere is magical. The few people who are there seem to be genuine devotees of Shiva. Their eyes blaze with the fire of spiritual energy and devotion. They go around the inner sanctum, bowing reverentially and say "Mahadev." Although I have visited a lot of temples, I have never experienced anything quite like this before. Strangely, in the midst of genuine devotees of Shiva, I begin to feel at home - secure and content. We witness the Shringar arti.

Then, in the middle of the arti, it happens.

I begin to witness my spirit rising and reaching out to the skies. It is an eerie experience.  
I am not even sure if it is me. It rises again and again, screaming for liberation. It fills the entire universe, longing to be one with its Lord. Again and again and again, the spirit rises, each time more powerful, more yearning and vaster. Its screams for liberation leave me speechless.

Mahadev!

Mahadev!

Mahadev!

MAHADEV!

MAHADEV!

MAHADEV!

Inside that small Kashi Vishwanath Temple, set in the middle of narrow, winding lanes of crowded Kashi and visited by 21.9 million people every year, the Lord of the Universe considers me significant enough to give me a glimpse of his magnificence. He gives me a first-hand experience of why Kashi is sacred as the place for liberation. He also shows me why He is called Vishwanath here.

I am overcome with feelings of remorse, gratitude and humility. I ask for forgiveness for questioning the sanctity of Kashi. With stunning clarity, I realise that I am deeply, madly, and impossibly in love with Shiva. I have had an intense spiritual experience. I am not quite sure what it means. But I do know that something amazing just happened and the Kashi Vishwanath temple would be forever very special for me.

At the conclusion of the arti, the small crowd is getting smaller. Babs asks us to stand close to the wall of the inner sanctum. Saro, Jayashree and Latha sit on the floor. Babs, Guna, Cheenu, and I stand behind them gazing at the linga. Occasionally, we make way for Shiva devotees who bow and touch the wall saying "Mahadev." Babs seems to be lost in an inner world.

We gather in front of the inner sanctum. There is another linga there. In fact, there are more than ten lingas throughout the temple. The linga in front of the inner sanctum is called Vaikunteshwara. The Kashi Vishwanath Temple is also home to a family of monkeys. They are on the girders on the roof. The temple staff attempt to chase away the monkeys with long sticks. As they chase the monkeys, hitting the girders hard with their sticks, one of the monkeys is frightened. It jumps on the girder above the Vaikunteshwara linga and urinates in fear, almost bathing the linga in monkey urine. It is an extraordinary sight. Luckily, the urine falls by the side of the linga. Shiva, as God, has always symbolised totality for me. While other temples observe strict rules of ritual purity, there is nothing pure or impure for Shiva. He is indifferent to good and bad, virtue and sin, and even poison and nectar. He symbolises pure detachment and also pure love. No one can be more loving and yet more detached than Shiva. As Babs says, Shiva symbolises total goodness. A monkey urinating in a Shiva temple somehow seems appropriate.

Jayashree finds a string of bells in front of the inner sanctum. Fascinated by them, she caresses the bells. Suddenly, she finds a hand gently touching her shoulder. She turns and finds a short, thin man. He has a long beard and his hair is in gridlocks. He looks like a yogi. He has mascara on his left eye. As she looks at him in surprise, he raises his hands, recites Sanskrit mantras and blesses her. He tells her that all her desires will be fulfilled. He doesn't ask for anything. Jayashree is overcome with emotion. She taps me on the shoulder and asks me to give him some money. Without a word, I dig into my pocket and find a hundred Rupee note. I give it to the man, who seems surprised but graciously accepts it. Jayashree is both moved and intrigued. She wants to know who he could be. I tell her we should not rule out the possibility that it could be Lord Shiva himself, because Shiva can take any form. I also feel silly for perhaps giving the Lord of the Universe a couple of dollars.

Who or what is Shiva? He is one of the most enigmatic of Hindu Gods. He is a yogi, who performs severe penance. He has renounced worldly pleasures and dwells on top of a mountain. He prefers a cremation ground rather than a palace. He smears his body with ashes of cremated bodies. He is also the Lord of Dance and Music. He may be an ascetic but he is also sensuous. The mythology of Shiva can be very confusing as it presents Shiva as a bundle of contradictions. Wendy Doniger, a reputed scholar at the University of Chicago, has extensively researched the mythology of Shiva in her book, Shiva: The Erotic Ascetic. In her book, she quotes a description of Shiva by the sage Narada: "On Kailasa Mountain, Siva lives as a naked yogi. His wife, Parvati, is the most beautiful woman in the universe, capable of bewitching even the best of yogis. Though Siva is the enemy of Kama, and is without passion, he is her slave."

Doniger analyses and interprets these myths from the perspective of Western social sciences. Despite her extensive analysis, it is not clear what function these myths serve and why they have endured. The flaw in her analysis is to treat Shiva as an anthropomorphic being, i.e., a being with human characteristics. Shiva is not amenable to definition, interpretation and categorisation. If he could be so easily understood and interpreted, he would not be God. God must defy all categories and definitions. Being limitless, He should not be able to be confined to a limited category or definition. The paradoxical myths of Shiva highlight His limitless nature. The myths are deliberately designed to confound, astound and frustrate individuals who seek to understand Shiva through their intellect.

Babs says that divinity is mysterious, mystical and beyond the intellect. It can only be experienced but never understood. God is not an entity or a being. It is better understood as energy. Shiva is not a person or being. It is a principle. All God forms or deities in Hinduism represent specific principles. The Shiva principle, according to Babs, is hundred percent love. If you become hundred percent good and hundred percent selfless, you qualify to be called Shiva, according to Babs. Shiva is the embodiment of selflessness. In myths associated with him, Shiva drinks the poison that comes out of churning the ocean by the celestials and the demons. No one wants to accept the poison. But Shiva gladly accepts it and drinks. Later, when good things come out of the churning of the ocean, Shiva is forgotten. This myth equates Shiva with selflessness. This quality of selflessness is the same as unconditional love. Babs defines it as caring and sharing. It is being able to love others without discrimination or judgement. If you can do that you would also become Shiva.

Babs says that the only way to experience God is to love God. This means giving up attachment to the world, your own comforts and your desires. It also means giving up your sense of importance. The myths of Shiva highlight these aspects. Shiva does not care about praise, blame, fame, or name. In the Shiva myths, he is always the outsider, never fitting in. If you want to experience God, you would have to develop those qualities. This does not mean renouncing the world, wandering through cremation grounds, smearing your body with ash and doing despicable things. True renunciation, according to Babs, is accepting everything and everyone, without judgement or discrimination. It is remaining unmoved by praise or blame, success or failure, joy or sorrow, and pleasure or pain. Yogis call it equanimity. The ascetic part of Shiva symbolises equanimity.

Babs says that there are two ways to develop equanimity. The way of yoga is to control your senses and desires through intense practice. The other way, called the way of tantra, is to experience all your desires so that you have no desires left. The sensuous view of Shiva symbolises tantra. Both yoga and tantra have the same goal - detachment from the world and turning your attention within. They follow different paths. Since Shiva symbolises both, they are both equally valid.

If you start practising yoga or tantra, how would you know that you are on the right path and you are making progress? If you are on the right path, you would start generating spiritual energy. Although you may not become aware of it, your face will shine and your eyes will glow with the fire of renunciation. When you touch others, they will feel energised too. On the other hand, despite your chanting, meditation and rituals, if your face lacks lustre and your eyes are dull, you are probably wasting your time. The reason why Shiva is depicted as the erotic ascetic is that spiritual and sexual energies are two sides of the same coin. According to Babs, the height spiritual and sexual ecstasy produces the same kind of bliss because you momentarily lose body consciousness. When you lose yourself completely and permanently, you will become Shiva. All this is, of course, my understanding based on my interactions with Babs. He says that when you turn your attention inwards and seek the silence within, you will experience Shiva.

We stay for the Shayana arti. By the time we come out of the temple, it is nearly 11:30 pm. It is pitch dark outside as all the shops are closed and the lights have been switched off. We try to make our way back to the cars in the darkness through the winding lanes. The ever resourceful Latha manages to get a torch from somewhere and guides us in the darkness. We manage to locate our slippers and make it safely back to the cars. It is midnight when we arrive back at the hotel. Latha organises a glass of hot milk for everyone. As I sip the milk, I reflect on the preceding couple of hours.

It was an amazing, unforgettable experience.

Babs suggests that Cheenu, Guna and I should also do our Pitru Karma at the Ganges on the following morning. Pitru Karma is a Hindu ritual which involves paying homage to the preceding three generations of one's ancestors by a male relative. Kashi and Gaya are particularly important places for performing the ritual. Thanks to Babs and Cheenu, I have also performed it in Badrinath.

We are up at 4 am next morning for a purifying bath. Cheenu suggests that we travel in one car. The six of us get into his Renault. Guna sits in the front seat. Jayashree, Saro, Latha and I are in the back seat. Jayashree has to sit on Latha's lap, who is also guiding Cheenu using the GPS on her mobile phone. I find the whole experience surreal. There we are, about to perform a Hindu ritual, in probably the most ancient city in the world, navigating our way to the Ganges using GPS. It can happen only in India.

Cheenu has arranged with a priest in Ahilya Ghat to perform our ritual. This is the ghat built by the warrior-queen who built the present day Kashi Vishwanath temple. I feel grateful to this noble woman. Early morning on the west bank of Ganges is a little chilly and cold. The sun is not out yet. The atmosphere is serene and magical. Except for a few hardy devotees and priests, there is no one on the ghat. The place is surprisingly clean. The priest sits silently on the top of the footsteps looking impassive and peaceful. We wait for him to gather all the materials for the ritual. The Ganges looks absolutely magnificent, bathed in mist and twilight. There are boats taking groups of foreigners in early morning cruises. Except for an occasional shout of Mahadev, the place is quiet.

Under the watchful and benevolent gaze of our wives, Guna, Cheenu and I begin the ritual. The most important part of the ritual is offering food to one's ancestors. It is called Pinda Dhan. A pinda is a rice and barley flour ball mixed with ghee (clarified butter) and sesame seeds. The priest, who is called a panda (not to be confused with the cute bear found in China), gives us the rice/barley flour/sesame seed mix and asks us to make it into 17 equal-sized balls. It is a tricky feat but we manage to get it done. Only one ball is required for each ancestor. Three generations of parents, grandparents and great grandparents take up 14 balls. The remaining balls are for relatives and friends who have passed away and to whom one feels grateful.

The priest is sincere and systematic. He patiently takes us through the whole ritual. After the ritual, the pindas are usually thrown into the Ganges. We hire a boat to take us to the middle of the river. All of us get into the boat and offer the pindas to sacred Ganges. I feel calm and content after the ritual. I am still feeling a little high after the previous night's experience at the Kashi Vishwanath Temple. As we get off the boat and climb the steps of Ahilya Ghat, the whole place is bathed in the golden hues of the rising sun. It is an amazing sight. I feel good about Kashi. I don't know why but I feel at home there.

As we head back to the hotel, I feel elated and light-headed. I climb up the stairs to go to our room. Babs is standing there on the top of the landing. There is no one else there. When I look at him, he evokes in me the same feelings that I experienced at the Kashi Vishwanath Temple on the previous night. I realise that despite my misgivings Babs brought me to Kashi and probably gave me an experience of Shiva. Babs had decided to leave his ashram and wander around in solitude. He need not have come back. He came back because he loved and cared for us. He also taught me an important lesson: Don't ever be reluctant to seek out new experiences.

Kashi exemplifies a fundamental truth about Hinduism that very few people have understood. Hinduism is a work in progress. Divinity is both mystical and mysterious. No one or no religion can claim to have understood it completely. There will always be new seekers of Truth. While faith and surrender are important, so are curiosity and learning. Blind faith is the enemy of God because, as Babs says, God resides in you as your intellect.

On top of the narrow stairway in that boutique hotel with only two of us present, Babs appears as Shiva. I am overcome with emotion and gratitude. I touch his feet in reverence.

MAHADEV!

6. Under the Bodhi Tree

Bodh Gaya is about 260 kilometres from Kashi. That's where we are headed now, on the 7th of January 2014 in two cars. Cheenu in his Renault Logan, with Babs sitting next to him, is leading the way. Saro, Jayashree and I are in the Ford Fiesta driven by Guna. A little earlier, we checked out of Sarin Inn after watching Babs perform his homam. We had breakfast in our rooms, organised by the resourceful Latha. NH 1, also known as the Delhi-Kolkata Highway, connects Kashi and Bodh Gaya for most of the distance. Before we reach the Falgu River near Gaya, we need to turn left into NH 83, also known as the Gaya-Dobhi Road. At Dhandwa, we need to take a right turn into the Domuhan-Bodhgaya Road to reach Bodh Gaya.

We are visiting the Mahabodhi Temple Complex in Bodh Gaya. It is an important pilgrimage site for the Buddhists because it is here under a Fig Tree that Prince Siddhartha became the Buddha. There are four pilgrimage sites associated with the life of the Buddha, also known as Gautam Buddha. These are: Bodh Gaya, Kushinagar, Lumbini, and Sarnath. Kushinagar is near the city of Gorakhpur in Uttar Pradesh. The Buddha shed his physical body here. Lumbini is in Nepal. It is believed that Siddhartha was born here in the fifth or sixth century BCE. He became the Buddha in Bodh Gaya. Sarnath, 13 kilometres north-east of Kashi, is where the Buddha delivered first sermon. Curiously, the Buddha never seems to have visited Kashi town.

Bodh Gaya is on the banks of the Falgu River. In the Buddha's times, it was known as Niranjana. It is a sacred river for the Hindus, who believe that the river is the embodiment of Lord Vishnu. According to mythology associated with the place, it once flowed with milk. These days it is mostly a little stream in a vast expanse of sand. According to another myth, Ram and Sita came to Gaya with Lakshman to perform the last rites of King Dasharatha, Ram's father. While Ram went to bathe in the river, Sita was playing with sand on the river bank. Dasharatha seems to have appeared out of nowhere and asked for the pinda. Sita asked him to wait for the traditional pinda of rice and sesame seeds. Dasharatha said he was hungry and asked her to give him pindas made of sand. Sita obliged but when Ram returned and offered his pindas of rice and sesame seeds, Dasharatha did not appear. Ram was quite concerned and Sita had to tell him what happened. She called for five witnesses - the Falgu River, a cow, a Brahmin, a Tulsi (Sacred Basil) plant and a Banyan tree, to vouch for her. Except for the Banyan Tree, the others lied. Sita became angry and cursed that the Falgu River would lose its water, the cow would only be worshipped from the backside, there would be no Tulsi plant in Gaya and the Gaya Brahmins would never be satisfied, always craving for more. She blessed the Banyan Tree saying that all those performing pinda dhana at Gaya would do it under the Banyan Tree. The Banyan Tree is part of the Vishnupad Temple in Gaya, visited by thousands of Hindus for offering pinda dhana.

While Gaya is an important pilgrimage centre for the Hindus, it is mainly known for the Mahabodhi Temple at Bodh Gaya. This is where Prince Siddhartha became enlightened. Prince Siddhartha lived a life of luxury and comfort in Kapilavastu or Lumbini in Nepal. He only wore garments made of the finest silk from Kashi and would only bathe using sandalwood from Kashi. According to legend, during one of his trips out of his palace, he was deeply disturbed when he saw an old man, a sick man, a decaying dead body and an ascetic.

At the age of 29, determined to find the truth and the meaning of life, Prince Siddhartha left his family and ran away. Giving up the princely comforts of royal life, he spent the next six years practising severe asceticism in the forest. He sought out people who could teach him but left them as soon as he realised that they had nothing more to teach him. He found five others who were also seeking the truth. He practised severe austerities with them, mistakenly believing that he could attain salvation by torturing his body. He subsisted by eating only a single grain of rice a day. But Siddhartha soon came to the conclusion that the path of austerities was not the right one for him. There are various versions of how Siddhartha realised that severe austerities would not lead him to the truth.

One version is that one day in the forest, Siddhartha heard a group of musicians singing "Do not tighten the string of the sitar so tight that it breaks, and do not loosen it so much that no sound comes out, so tighten it in the middle way." He interpreted the underlying message in the song as meaning balance and moderation in spiritual pursuits, not extreme severity.

The more popular version of the Buddha story is that as a result of severe austerities, Siddhartha was just skin and bones and nearly drowned when he bathed in the Niranjana (Falgu) River. Of course, if he had drowned, no one would have known about him. He would have been buried in the annals of history as another unfortunate ascetic who drowned while bathing. The world wouldn't have known the Buddha. And we wouldn't be travelling to Bodh Gaya. But God did not let him drown. Somehow he managed to drag himself to the river bank.

Siddhartha lay on the bank of the River Niranjana completely exhausted, malnourished and dissatisfied. He reflected on what went wrong. He suddenly remembered an incident in his childhood when he had experienced bliss under a Rose Apple tree watching his father plough the field. Siddhartha concluded from the recollection that severe austerities were not necessary to experience bliss. This was his first stage of enlightenment. God sent a village woman named Sujata to feed him. He gratefully accepted a bowl of rice gruel from her. Feeling appropriately nourished, Siddhartha sought a suitable place to continue his meditation. He found a Sacred Fig Tree (Peepal in Hindi). He sat under it, determined not to get up till he attained enlightenment. Some say that he sat under it for a single day and night. Others claim that he sat for three days and nights. The most widely held belief is that he sat under the tree for 45-49 days. One night, at dawn, when it was still twilight, Siddhartha understood what he was seeking. He was awakened. He became the Buddha.

Buddha understood that human life was destined to be misery and sorrow because human beings sought permanent happiness in an impermanent world. Buddha understood the cause of misery as desire. The way out of misery was giving up desire. The Buddha suggested an eight-fold path to escape from misery and suffering. The core of Buddha's teachings is that the world is ephemeral, fleeting and impermanent (anicha). Seeking permanence in the ever changing world is what leads to sorrow or dukha. We want to be permanently young, happy, attractive, active, healthy, rich and famous. It is not possible. The reason for our misery is really our craving for permanence. This insight of the Buddha is called Four Noble Truths in Buddhism.

The First Noble Truth is that if you are born, you will grow old, become sick and die one day. There is no escape from this cycle. Buddha's greatest contribution to humanity is the assertion that suffering is integral to human life. To be born is to suffer. Whatever happiness you experience in life - from friendships, family, healthy body, eating chocolate, watching movies - is temporary.

The Second Noble Truth is that the cause of suffering is craving. We crave for happiness, fame, fortune, wealth, glory, sensual pleasures and happiness. Another major insight of Buddha is that even if you fulfil your craving, you would still be unhappy. That's why we indulge in sensual pleasures repeatedly. We endlessly repeat the experience of pleasure and yet remain unfulfilled. That's what makes life a misery. Buddha said that the root cause of craving is ignorance. Ignorance is the inability to see reality.

The third Noble Truth is that you can end your suffering by removing desires, resentment and ignorance. If you are able to get rid of these permanently, you too will become a Buddha. Otherwise, you will just become another budda (old man) or buddi (old woman) one day. Getting rid of desires, anger, hatred, and ignorance is called liberation or enlightenment.

The fourth Noble Truth is that you can end suffering by following the eightfold path. The eightfold path is Right Speech, Right Action, Right Livelihood, Right Effort, Right Mindfulness, Right Concentration, Right Attitude and Right View. This is the Buddha's formula for a happy life. It is also called the Middle Path. In essence, human life is misery and sorrow. The solution is not be born at all. Enlightenment happens when you break this cycle of births and deaths.

After his arduous spiritual practises, the Buddha seems to have decided to take a break and freak out. According to Buddhist legends, he spent another seven weeks under the Fig Tree, which was now called the Bodhi (Wisdom) Tree as he gained wisdom under this tree. In the first week, the Buddha seems to have revelled in the new found bliss. He experienced supreme contentment. In the second week, he stood some distance from the tree and gazed at it fondly in gratitude for a whole week. In the third week, he mentally constructed a golden bridge to the skies and walked up and down the bridge for a whole week to convince the celestials that he was really enlightened. In the fourth week, he created a jewelled chamber, sat inside it and meditated for the whole week. Six coloured rays emanated from his body - yellow for holiness, white for purity, blue for confidence, red for wisdom and orange for desirelessness. The sixth colour was a combination of all the other five. These are the colours in the Buddhist flag. In the fifth week, he meditated under a Banyan Tree. Three pretty damsels, Tanha, Rati and Raga danced in front of him. They probably did a Bollywood item number but the Buddha was unmoved. In the sixth week, he sat under the Bodhi Tree and meditated. The skies darkened and there was a heavy downpour of rain. The Serpent King called Muchalinda came from under the Earth, coiled himself around the Buddha and put his hood above his head, protecting him from the cold and the rain. In the seventh week, the Buddha meditated under a tree called the Rajayatana Tree. Two merchants approached him and offered him rice cakes and honey. Buddha told them what he had found under the Bodhi Tree. They became his first lay followers. Buddha gave them some hair from his head. These are now believed to be at the Shwedagon Pagoda in Rangoon. After seven weeks, the Buddha left Bodh Gaya and travelled to Kashi.

I am pretty excited about going to Bodh Gaya as I haven't visited this place before. I had always been curious about the Bodhi Tree, trying to imagine what would have been like when Siddhartha sat under this tree. We reach Bodh Gaya in the afternoon. Latha and Cheenu have booked accommodation for all of us at Hotel Heritage. It is a moderately-priced hotel that looks quite neat and clean.

On TripAdvisor, it doesn't score more than three stars. Siva from Malaysia (Three Stars) complains: "Front desk staff were helpful but the restaurant staffs were rude & slow. Mosquitoes in the restaurant. Rooms were average in cleanliness. Hot water heater only turned on upon request. Rooms were too cold at night even without a/c on". But a couple of satisfied travellers from Pune (Five Stars) disagree: "Outstanding services provided to us in all department... Rooms are very clean. All types of bath accessories are available and they are latest. Toiletries are adequate. Bedroom size is quite large, bedding is large and very comfort. Room amenities are adequate. The best stuff was the WiFi facility for 24 hrs for free. I enjoyed my stay to fullest." And: "We stayed at Hotel Heritage Bodhgaya from 21st to 23rd September 2013. The hotel was great, food was fabulous and the staff were courteous, friendly and very helpful. Overall a nice and awesome experience. I will like to mention the food quality. I had chinese food items and all dishes tasted really nice. Really the cook had great hands..."

We check in at the reception, deposit our bags in our rooms and go the hotel restaurant in the ground floor. Latha orders for us. The food is delicious. I can't say whether the cook has great hands but he or she can definitely cook.

The Mahabodhi Temple is about two kilometres from the hotel. We drive to the temple and park our cars quite some distance from the temple. The Mahabodhi Temple was constructed by Emperor Ashoka (304-323 BCE), about 250 years after Siddhartha's enlightenment as the Buddha. Ashoka was the son of the Mauryan emperor Bindusara, whose empire covered the whole of India except the Tamil kingdoms in the south and the eastern kingdom of Kalinga (present day Odisha). Ashoka expanded the empire from present-day Assam in the East to Iran in the West; from present day Tajikistan in the North to the peninsula of southern India except for present day Tamil Nadu and Kerala which were ruled by the three ancient Tamil kingdoms.

Around 260 BCE, Ashoka waged a war against the Kalinga Kingdom, killing 100,000 men. Although he was victorious, Ashoka was deeply disillusioned by the mass violence. During his reign, Ashoka expressed his thoughts in a collection of 33 inscriptions on pillars, boulders and cave walls throughout his empire. These are called the edicts of Ashoka. Edict 13 states: "His Majesty feels remorse on account of the conquest of Kalinga because, during the subjugation of a previously unconquered country, slaughter, death, and taking away captive of the people necessarily occur, whereas His Majesty feels profound sorrow and regret."

It is not clear whether Emperor Ashoka became a Buddhist but he patronised and promoted Buddhism. It is now believed by historians that Emperor Ashoka supported all the religions. The Buddha would have faded into obscurity within a couple of hundred years after his enlightenment but for Emperor Ashoka. It was Ashoka who made Buddhism into a global religion. He sent his daughter Sanghamitra and son Mahindra to Sri Lanka to establish Buddhism there. He sent many prominent Buddhist monks as his emissaries to all parts of the world to spread Buddhism. In his edicts and administration, Ashoka promoted the virtues of non-violence, respect for all religious teachers, equal respect for and study of each other's scriptures, and rational faith. Ashoka's empire was also distinctive in being animal-friendly. He banned the slaughter and eating of the common cattle, imposed restrictions on fishing and fish-eating, abolished the royal hunting of animals and restricted the slaying of animals for food in the royal residence.

According to the Buddhist texts, the Buddha was an attractive, handsome man with blue eyes. After he became the Buddha, it would seem that he was very healthy. He skipped the evening meal, took afternoon naps, abstained from alcohol, and was celibate. He walked long distances. Obviously, he was free of stress as he was free of modern-day afflictions of TV, Internet, Facebook, Twitter and the cell phone. He meditated a lot and spoke only when necessary. He didn't regret his past and didn't worry about the future. He didn't take pills for Hypertension, Cholesterol or Diabetes. Not surprisingly, he lived till the ripe old age of 80. He could have well lived past 100, if he hadn't died of food poisoning. Although he lived long, I am not sure that he escaped misery and sorrow.

Siddhartha started his spiritual quest with a view to find a way to overcome old age, sickness and death. But the Buddha could not escape sickness, old age and death. Enlightenment did not help him overcome these bodily afflictions. The Buddha seems to have suffered various ailments, including back pains and stomach infections. He told his personal attendant, Ananda, that his body was worn out and old. He spoke about keeping his body going by strapping it up. Buddha's major insight was that you can't escape sickness, old age and death. Although Buddhist scriptures assert that the Buddha died mindfully and in peace, it is not clear whether he was a happy man at the age of 80. The world around him was falling apart. The Buddha advocated compassion and non-violence. Yet there was cruelty and violence all around him. His patron Bimbisara, the King of Magadha, was murdered by his own son. The King of Kosala massacred Buddha's clan, the Shakhyas. Kapilavastu, his birthplace, was ravaged in Buddha's own lifetime. Buddha's biggest contribution to humanity was how to live cheerfully in the midst of growing frail and old in a chaotic, uncaring world. This is why Buddha's teachings will always be timeless.

Buddha's last meal was an offering from a blacksmith named Cunda. It is not known whether the poisoning was accidental or deliberate. Buddha probably knew that the food was poisonous and yet accepted it gratefully, ate it cheerfully and died peacefully. Babs says that Buddha's behaviour demonstrates the height of culture and refinement. Like Shiva, the Buddha accepted poison as it was a gift. Buddha's last words were: "All composite things are perishable. Strive for your own liberation with diligence." The Buddha advised his monks to follow no leader.

Buddha has had a tremendous impact all around the world. Mindfulness meditation is now part of leadership training in many corporate organisations, including Google. But few are interested in what the Buddha really taught. Buddha's teachings are hard to understand in the dry abstract texts. Buddhists texts are full of hundreds of lists. There are two types of truth, three refuges, four Noble Truths, five precepts/hindrances, six senses, seven factors of awakening, the eight-fold path and so on.

Here is the essence of Buddhism according to me: Buddha taught that only you are responsible for your liberation. He taught that liberation is essentially freedom from thoughts because our thoughts enslave us and lead us into misery. When your mind becomes silent in the absence of thoughts, you experience your real self. Buddha encourages us to pay attention to our thoughts by being mindful. Buddha teaches us to pay attention to the present moment because only the present moment counts. Buddha encourages us to cheerfully accept life as it is because nothing is permanent. He asks us to be kind and compassionate to all living beings.

I like the Buddha because his approach to spirituality is practical and rational. I have a friend who used to be a senior executive in British Telecom. He was married, had a son and was quite wealthy. About ten years back, he gave up everything and became a Buddhist monk, not because he was unhappy. He was attracted to Buddha's teachings. Now his possessions are two robes, a cloth bag, a towel, sandal and a begging bowl. He only eats once a day. He eats whatever is offered to him in his bowl before 11 am. Before he became a monk, he suffered from a number of ailments such as hypertension and diabetes. He used to consume a handful of pills every day. After he became a monk, he threw away the pills. He seems very healthy. And he is supremely happy. So there must be something right about the Buddha and his teachings.

Buddha has now been elevated to the level of God or a Superman. But Buddha was originally Siddhartha, who was just like you and me. The six years that Siddhartha spent in the forest before enlightenment were not easy. He often felt lonely. He was constantly assailed by feelings of fear and terror, whenever he heard an approaching animal or any other sound. But he persisted and was determined to attain liberation. The big difference between him and us is that we lack the persistence and determination or even interest in attaining liberation. We are still caught up in the illusion that we can find happiness in this world. Buddha saw clearly that happiness is impossible in a world that is constantly changing. He tells us to sit silently, close our eyes and seek bliss within. You don't have to be a monk to do this. You just have to follow his five precepts. Refrain from: (1) hurting others, (2) falsehood, (3) stealing, (4) consuming intoxicants, and (5) sexual misconduct. In fact, if everyone followed the five precepts, there would be no need for a Buddha in this world.

Do you have to become a monk in order to be happy? Babs says that you don't have to become a monk to attain liberation. As a householder, if you accept whatever life throws at you and love others without discrimination, you too can become a Buddha. The key to doing this is developing equanimity, forbearance and tolerance. Babs illustrates this in his own life and in his daily behaviour.

The Mahabodhi Temple Complex is a United Nations World Heritage Site. Around the Mahabodhi Temple are temples and monasteries built by people of Bhutan, China, Japan, Myanmar, Nepal, Sikkim, Sri Lanka, Taiwan, Thailand, Tibet and Vietnam. Each of these buildings is unique, reflecting the architectural style and culture of the country. As we walk towards the Mahabodhi Temple, we pass through some of these temples and monasteries. They are beautiful. The whole complex is buzzing with human activity. All around us is a sea of Buddhist monks and nuns dressed in traditional robes. There is heavy security in the Temple Complex because in July 2013 some idiots exploded ten low-intensity bombs in the Complex. Fortunately, other than injuring two monks, they did not cause any damage to the Bodhi Tree or the Mahabodhi Temple. The police defused two other bombs under the 80-foot Buddha statue.

As we enter the premises of the Mahabodhi Temple, I see Buddhist monks and nuns seated on the ground and meditating. The whole temple complex is remarkably neat and clean. Although Ashoka built the first Temple, the present Mahabodhi Temple is believed to have been built around the fifth or sixth century BCE. It is a 50-metre high structure constructed entirely out of brick, which in itself is a remarkable feature. It is surrounded by sculpted stone balustrades. The temple construction reflects the knowledge and skills of builders and craftsmen in fifth century India. The Temple Complex includes the Mahabodhi Temple, the sacred Bodhi Tree and six other sites associated with the seven weeks that the Buddha spent here after his enlightenment. According to the UNESCO website:

" _The most important of the sacred places is the giant Bodhi Tree, to the west of the main temple, a supposed direct descendant of the original Bodhi Tree under which Buddha spent his First Week and had his enlightenment. To the north of the central path, on a raised area, is the Animeshlochan Chaitya (prayer hall) where Buddha is believed to have spent the Second Week. Buddha spent the Third Week walking eighteen paces back and forth in an area called Ratnachakrama (the Jewelled Ambulatory), which lies near the north wall of the main temple. Raised stone lotuses carved on a platform mark his steps. The spot where he spent the Fourth Week is Ratnaghar Chaitya, located to the north-east near the enclosure wall. Immediately after the steps of the east entrance on the central path there is a pillar which marks the site of the Ajapala Nigrodh Tree, under which Buddha meditated during his Fifth Week, answering the queries of Brahmans. He spent the Sixth Week next to the Lotus Pond to the south of the enclosure, and the Seventh Week was spent under the Rajyatana Tree, to the south-east of the main temple, currently marked by a tree....A seventh sacred place, the Lotus Pond, is located outside the enclosure to the south. Both the temple area and the Lotus Pond are surrounded by circulating passages at two or three levels and the area of the ensemble is 5 m below the level of the surrounding land.... Next to the Bodhi Tree there is a platform attached to the main temple made of polished sandstone known as Vajrasana (the Diamond Throne), originally installed by Emperor Asoka to mark the spot where Buddha sat and meditated."_

Inside the main temple is a seated statue of the Buddha. We pass through the sanctum and enter the area west to the main temple. This is where the famous Bodhi Tree is situated. The Bodhi Tree is a Fig Tree (Ficus religiosa), and is also known as the Peepal tree in India. It is considered most sacred by the Hindus, Jains and the Buddhists. In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna declares that among the trees, he is the Peepal tree. The tree is surrounded by a sandstone balustrade. A large number of monks and nuns are seated next to the tree, deep in meditation. Regrettably, the tree under which they are meditating trying to become a Buddha, is not the original tree under which Siddhartha meditated in the fifth century BCE.

The original Bodhi Tree seems to have attracted enormous hostility from a variety of people. Ashoka's wife, Queen Tissarakka, tried to poison the original Bodhi Tree but was not successful. However, King Puspyamitra was successful in cutting down the original tree during his persecution of Buddhism in the second century BCE. However, another tree was planted to replace it. It was cut down by King Sassanka at the beginning of the seventh century CE. In the 12th century CE, the temple complex was invaded and almost destroyed by the Muslim Turks. The whole place went into decline and was largely abandoned. The Bodhi Tree that was there died of old age around the 1870s. Fortunately, Emperor Ashoka, obviously a man of tremendous foresight, had sent a cutting of the original tree with his daughter Sanghamitra to Sri Lanka. She planted it in Anuradhapura. We have to thank the British archaeologist Sir Alexander Cunningham for the present temple complex. He excavated and restored the place. He probably planted the present Bodhi Tree, believed to be from a cutting of the tree from Anuradhapura in Sri Lanka. Another Britisher, Sir Edwin Arnold, was instrumental in bringing the attention of the Buddhist world to the deplorable conditions of temple in Bodh Gaya. This led to the revival of the place.

There is a wall surrounding the area where the Bodhi Tree is situated. Babs and I lean on the narrow parapet. I am amazed to be there, right next to the place where Siddhartha became the Buddha. I wonder what it would have been like in the fifth century BCE. There would have been no buildings. The whole place would have been a forest. It was probably a little chilly. I can imagine, Siddhartha seated under the tree, peaceful and serene, delving deep into the recesses of his mind, seeking an answer to the eternal question of what does this all mean. It is such an exciting thought that I have an enormous urge to share it with Babs, which I promptly do. He smiles indulgently.

Then, in his characteristic style, Babs drops a bombshell.

Babs tells me that in one the nadi readings it was said that in one of his previous incarnations Babs was the Buddha. I ponder over the significance of this. If what the Nadi said was true, here I am under the Bodhi Tree with the Buddha himself, who is also my best friend, watching a bunch of people trying to be Buddhas. It blows my mind that I nearly fall off the parapet. I ask Babs if he remembers sitting under this tree. He says he has no memory but only occasional visions. I ask him if sitting under the tree would really make any difference. He laughs and says no. Babs has his own theory on Buddha's enlightenment. He says that some evolved saint must have stored his spiritual energy in the Bodhi Tree, waiting to transfer it to an appropriate person, Siddhartha happened to be most suitable person to receive the energy because of his past efforts and determination. Babs strongly believes that spirituality is an energy transfer process.

Babs tells me that he has visited the Bodhi Tree many times. He says he would do something naughty in his previous visits. He would go and stand next to people meditating under the tree. He could feel an individual's spiritual vibrations and tell whether the person was making spiritual progress. I find this enormously interesting. I ask him if he can feel the spiritual vibrations of people present there. He is amused. He says he can. I ask him to tell me who is the most spiritually advanced among those present. Babs points to a lady sitting on the parapet on another wall and says that he can detect faint vibrations only from her. He says he can't detect any vibrations from the rest. Seeing the expression of disbelief on my face, Babs says, "come with me."

We all follow Babs as he leads us outside the Mahabodhi Temple Complex. We walk some distance and enter another temple. This one is built by the Japanese. Babs leads us to the shrine. It is dark and there is no one there. We dutifully stand behind our Maithreya who goes into deep meditation. We also close our eyes and try to imitate Babs. Jayashree whispers that she can feel a cone of blue light descending from the ceiling. Babs opens his eyes and tells us that the vibrations are very strong in that temple. He says perhaps the monk there is very sincere and devoted. It is his vibrations that can be felt in the temple. Suitably impressed, we dutifully follow our Buddha back to the car park.

An enduring paradox about Buddhism is that it did not flourish in the country of its origin. While Buddhism spread to the rest of the world, it declined in India. I believe there are two main reasons for the decline. First, Buddha was very successful in spreading his teachings. He did this by forming an organisation (Sangha) and getting political support and patronage for the Sangha from various kingdoms and empires. When these kingdoms and empires were overrun by the Turks and other Muslim invaders, they also destroyed Buddhist monasteries and temples. Second, the core of Buddhism is monks and monasteries. These were mostly supported by royal patronage. When royal patronage declined, the monks and monasteries could not support themselves. The monks mostly debated the finer points of various Buddhist texts, which are full of dense, dry, and boring lists. Buddhism never became a mass movement in India. Hinduism, on the other hand, was not dependent on priests and temples. It has always been an individual way of life. Despite Hindu temples being destroyed countless times, they were always built back. Hinduism proved to be resilient whereas Buddhism was not able to adapt and survive.

Buddha's teachings are timeless. Recently, authors Lex Bayer and John Figdor held a contest in which atheists were asked to offer modern alternatives to the Ten Commandments. They published it in their new book Atheist Mind, Humanist Heart: Rewriting the Ten Commandments for the Twenty-first Century. Here are the winners of the "Ten Non-Commandments": 1. Be open-minded and be willing to alter your beliefs with new evidence. 2. Strive to understand what is most likely to be true, not to believe what you wish to be true. 3. The scientific method is the most reliable way of understanding the natural world. 4. Every person has the right to control of their body. 5. God is not necessary to be a good person or to live a full and meaningful life. 6. Be mindful of the consequences of all your actions and recognize that you must take responsibility for them. 7. Treat others as you would want them to treat you, and can reasonably expect them to want to be treated. Think about their perspective. 8. We have the responsibility to consider others, including future generations 9. There is no one right way to live. 10. Leave the world a better place than you found it.

It is funny but that's exactly what the Buddha said more than 2,500 years back!

Our next stop is the Vishnupad Temple in Gaya. The Vishnupad Temple dates back to antiquity. According to the temple legend, a demon called Gayasura performed severe penance once. He asked for a boon that would bestow salvation on anyone who saw him. When the undeserving masses were getting liberated simply by seeing the demon, Lord Vishnu sought to put an end to the proceedings by pushing the demon below the earth. The place where he placed his foot and pushed him down is the Vishnupad Temple. It is also the site of the famous Banyan Tree that gave testimony to Ram about Sita. The Vishnupad Temple is one of the few sites in India considered most auspicious for performing Pitru Karma (showing gratitude to ancestors). Hindus perform the Pitru Karma under the Banyan Tree.

Jayashree, Saro and I are in the Ford Fiesta driven by Guna. Babs is with Latha and Cheenu in their Renault Logan. It gets dark by the time we reach Gaya. The roads are narrow and crowded. Cheenu is leading the way but Guna loses track of him in a crowded lane. We have no idea which way he turned. I text Latha to get our bearings. After some anxious moments, we make contact once again. We manage to reach the Vishnupad Temple. We have to park the cars in one of the narrow lanes near the temple and walk to the temple bare feet.

The present Vishnupad Temple was built in 1787 by Queen Ahilya Bhai Holkar, the same noble lady who built the Kashi Vishwanath Temple and the Ahilya Ghat in Kashi. The temple is made of large Grey Granite blocks. It has a tower about 100 feet high. There are carved pillars inside the temple supporting the pavilion. In the middle of the temple is an octagonal East-facing shrine consisting of a single 40-centimetre long footprint of the right foot carved on a solid rock. The footprint is believed to be of Lord Vishnu. There is a silver-plated basin surrounding the shrine.

The temple is not crowded. There are people sitting around the shrine. A man, who seems to be the head priest, benignly supervises a couple of men who are anointing the footprint with sandalwood paste. We find empty spots and sit around the shrine. I watch the men covering the entire portion on the top of the rock with sandalwood paste. They work with same sincerity and devotion of a couple of Buddhist monks creating a sand Mandala. They cover the top of the rock with sandalwood paste and make it absolutely flat and smooth. Then, with great care, they remove the paste around the foot and from between the toes. Soon they have a perfectly shaped smooth sandalwood-paste footprint.

By the time the footprint is anointed with sandalwood paste, a small crowd gathers around the shrine. But there is no pushing or jostling. The head priest performs a puja and aarti. People offer flowers into the shrine. For a payment of Rs.200, the head priest offers a sandalwood-paste impression of the footprint on a piece of cloth. I readily accept the offer and soon Jayashree and I are the proud owners of a sandalwood-paste impression of Lord Vishnu's right foot on a piece of cloth. We go around the shrine, offer prayers and go around the temple. We walk back to our cars. As we drive back to our hotel in Bodha Gaya, I reflect on the significance of our visit to the Vishnupad Temple. Why did we come here? What is its significance?

It strikes me that the three places we have visited over the past two days - Kashi, Bodh Gaya and Vishnupad Temple - have a common theme. They all have to do with theme of moksha or liberation. Kashi promises liberation if you are present there. In Bodh Gaya, Buddha attained liberation through intense inquiry into the structure of the mind. Buddha says that liberation is freedom from thoughts. In the Vishnupad temple, the footprint of Lord Vishnu attests to the difficulty of getting liberated. The gift of liberation or moksha is not given to everyone. It is only for those who deserve it. Kashi is the home of Vishwanath - the Lord of the Universe. He is totality, beyond good and bad. Kashi is sacred because it symbolises the qualities of Shiva - supreme goodness, unconditional love, and complete non-discrimination. Liberation in Kashi signifies accepting both good and bad without discrimination, rancour, or ill will and loving all. It means developing equanimity and unconditional love. How does one do that? How do you become a Shiva?

Buddha offers the answer. He says you can develop equanimity and unconditional love by giving up desires, attachments, ego and expectations. The begging bowl of monks symbolises humility. It is their attempt at erasing the ego. Liberation or Moksha for Buddha is waking up to the reality of this world. The world is unreal - it is ephemeral, fleeting and constantly changing. We seek permanence in flow. That will only lead to discontent and unhappiness. Buddha says that only moksha can make you really happy. If you are not liberated, you are a slave. As long as you are enslaved, you can never be truly happy. The Vishnupad signifies that moksha is possible if you completely surrender to God. Surrendering to God is the same as giving up desires, attachment and expectations. It is accepting life as it is. Babs says that surrender to God is the same as flowing with life without any desires.

We are back at the hotel. After a quick dinner, we retire for the night. I am tired but happy. I have only been reading about the Buddha so far but on that day I was probably with the Buddha under the Bodhi Tree. Who can tell?

On the morning of 8th of January, 2014, we wake up in Hotel Heritage, Bodh Gaya. After a bath, we assemble in Babs's room for the homam. We check out of the hotel, after breakfast. Our destination is Ranchi, in Jharkhand. Ranchi is about 220 kilometres from Bodh Gaya on NH 2 and NH 33. Cheenu in his Renault Logan with Latha and Babs leads the way.

Ranchi is the capital of Jharkhand. It was part of Bihar before the year 2000. The state of Jharkhand was carved out of the southern parts of Bihar in the year 2000. Jharkhand borders Bihar to the North, West Bengal to the East, Odisha to the South and Uttar Pradesh and Chhattisgarh to the West. Like Chhattisgarh, Jharkhand has enormous mineral wealth. The state accounts for nearly 40 percent of the mineral wealth of India. Despite its mineral wealth, Jharkhand is relatively under-developed and poverty is rampant in the state. Both Chhattisgarh and Jharkhand share many similar features. They are both rich in natural resources and home to the original inhabitants of India, quaintly referred to as tribals or adivasis. The coexistence of wealth and poverty has led to the emergence of insurgency movements. Both Jharkhand and Chhattisgarh are centres of Maoist insurgency and are part of the infamous 'Red Corridor.' Corruption and poor governance in the past have also been common features. Jharkhand has had a history of conflicts dating back to the 16th century. Till this period, it remained largely inaccessible and independent.

In the Ford Fiesta, we are beginning to miss Babs. A pall of gloom descends. Everyone is silent. Jayashree attempts to cheer up proceedings by singing devotional songs. It seems to uplift the spirits. Guna talks about his experiences with Babs. Jayashree sings some more songs. Everyone feels uplifted. We stop for tea and snacks at Hazaribagh. A curious fact about Hazaribagh is that it is birthplace of one A.E.J. Collins, who according to Cricinfo, "came suddenly into note by scoring 628 not out for Clarke's House v. North Town, in a Junior house match at Clifton College, in June, 1899, when only thirteen years old." Clifton College is a school in Bristol, England. Collins was killed in action in the First World War before he turned 30. I find it perplexing that the Buddha lived till 80 in the sixth century BCE but A.E.J. Collins did not survive beyond 29 in the 20th century.

Ranchi is about 100 kilometres away from Hazaribagh. In another couple of hours, we are in Ranchi. Among other things, Ranchi is the home of Mahendra Singh Dhoni, Captain of the Indian Cricket Team. We stop at the Yogoda Satsanga Society of India (YSS), which is an ashram founded in 1917 by the yogi and spiritual teacher Paramahansa Yogananda. Yogananda, whose birth name was Mukunda Lal Ghosh, was born in 1893. He is widely known throughout the world for his book Autobiography of a Yogi. The book is a primer on spirituality and mysticism. It was one of the books that influenced me greatly in my spiritual journey.

Yogananda seems to have been attracted to spirituality at an early age. In 1910, when he was 17, he came into contact with his guru Swami Yukteshwar Giri. In his autobiography, his first encounter with Yukteshwar is recounted in somewhat turgid and colourful prose: "We entered a oneness of silence; words seemed the rankest superfluities. Eloquence flowed in soundless chant from heart of master to disciple. With an antenna of irrefragable insight I sensed that my guru knew God, and would lead me to Him. The obscuration of this life disappeared in a fragile dawn of prenatal memories. Dramatic time! Past, present, and future are its cycling scenes. This was not the first sun to find me at these holy feet!" Who uses words like 'irrefragable'? However, it is an 'irrefragable' fact that Yogananda was completely bowled over by Yukteshwar, who traced his lineage through his guru Lahiri Mahashaya to a Mahavatar Babaji. Yukteshwar seems to have been a very practical guru. He encouraged Yogananda to complete a Bachelor's degree in Arts from the University of Calcutta 1915. He also instructed him to spread the teachings of Mahavatar Babaji in the United States.

Yogananda went to the United States in 1920 to attend an International Congress of Religious Liberals. He stayed there and set up a spiritual organisation called the Self Realization Fellowship (SRF) to disseminate his spiritual teachings related to Kriya Yoga. Yogananda's talks in the United States attracted a large number of people. George Harrison, the lead guitarist of the iconic English rock band The Beatles, was greatly influenced by Yogananda's teachings. Proceeds from the 2002 reissue of George Harrison's 1970 famous song My Sweet Lord was donated to the Self-Realization Fellowship in California. The late Steve Jobs made sure that his close friends and family received a copy each of the Autobiography of a Yogi at his memorial service.

When I read the Autobiography of a Yogi in 1994, I remember being excited by Mahavatar Babaji, who is a legendary saint with an eternally youthful look. He is one of the 60 people, along with Yogananda, Yukteshwar, Lahiri Mahashaya, Marilyn Monroe and Mae West, featured on the cover of The Beatles' 1967 album Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Thanks to Yogananda's autobiography, Mahavatar Babaji has become a cult figure among spiritual aspirants. For a beginner, he is the Sachin Tendulkar of mysticism. Some claim to have seen him and talked to him. He is reported to be a bare-bodied yogi with a golden complexion and long flowing brown hair to his shoulders, wearing only a white loin cloth. The most recent account can be found in the autobiography of an Indian mystic called Sri M titled Apprenticed to a Himalayan Master: A Yogi's Autobiography published in 2010.

According to Sri M, Babaji is the guru of the yogis belonging to the Nath sect. It is claimed that Lord Shiva was the founder of this sect, which included a legendary 11th/12th century yogi and siddha called Gorakshanath or Gorakhnath. In Tamil Nadu, Gorakhnath is referred to as Korakkar. He is one of the 18 Siddhas, considered to be the highest disciples of Lord Shiva and closest to God. Some spiritual aspirants have claimed that Mahavatar Babaji and Gorakhnath are the same person. Kriya Yoga, which is the form of spirituality practised by Mahavatar Babaji and the Nath yogis, involves breath meditation. It is also referred to as Vasi Yogam in Tamil. It is claimed that practising this type of breath meditation can accelerate spiritual progress.

The only person that I know who is an adept in Vasi Yogam is Babs. Babs can make his breath traverse in a figure-of-eight (8) pattern and achieve higher levels of consciousness rather effortlessly. I have seen him demonstrate this. What is Babs' connection to Gorakhnath and Mahavatar Babaji? Who taught him Vasi Yogam? I would love to find answers to these questions but like Mahavatar Babaji, Babs is also an enigma. The mystical teachings of the siddhas and yogis of India are closely guarded secrets. They are only shared with the people who have demonstrated complete faith, humility and selflessness. You can't learn these by reading books or attending meditation classes. Babs is a siddha yogi and one who is qualified to transmit these highest teachings. He says that he hasn't met anyone so far who is a deserving recipient of these ancient secrets.

In 2002, the Tamil movie superstar Rajinikanth wrote and acted in a film called Baba, which was based on Mahavatar Babaji. Rajinikanth, also known as Rajini, is a neighbour of Babs in Chennai. He has a farm house next to Babs's ashram. He is a larger-than-life super-hero who is very popular with the masses. The movie Baba wasn't as successful as his other super hits. One of his films called Enthiran in which he acted as a robot was the highest grossing Tamil film ever. Obviously, people prefer robots to mahaans!

The Yogananda ashram in Ranchi is not slick and modern like the Yogananda centre called Lake Shrine Temple at Malibu, Los Angeles, which Jayashree and I visited in 1995. But it has the same serenity and beauty. The place seems well-maintained. There are a row of old buildings. We walk to a building that seems to be the central office. It has the ambiance of a government office without the sleaze. A couple of people are seated behind desks. There are books by and on Yogananda for sale. Jayashree wants a copy of the Tamil version of Autobiography of a Yogi but we can't find one. She settles for a couple of booklets in Tamil - one on harmonising physical, mental and spiritual methods of healing and another on how to cultivate divine love.

Babs enquires about the facilities and programmes on offer. He seems particularly interested in how long one could stay in the ashram. There is a lady behind a desk who seems to be in charge of the ashram. She is polite but not overtly friendly. She gives us some brochures about the programmes on Kriya Yoga. We ask her permission to relieve ourselves in the ashram's toilets. She gives us permission. For a place that dates back to 1917, the ashram is remarkably well-kept. Yogananda popularised the quest for self-realisation and made spirituality respectable in the West. His ashram is a lovely place. Yogananda passed on in 1952. His central message was that God is to be sought within the solitude of one's mind. His message is still relevant today.

Our next destination is Puri in Odisha. That's nearly 10-12 hours away by road, assuming that the roads are in reasonable condition. It is already afternoon in Ranchi. Babs decides to take a detour to a place called Baripada in Odisha, where we could stay for the night. The route to Baripada takes us through the city of Jamshedpur. We leave the ashram and depart for Jamshedpur. It is about 130 kilometres from Ranchi on NH 33. Jamshedpur is the largest city in Jharkhand. It is also called Tata Nagar because it was founded by Jamshedji Nusserwanji Tata in 1908. It is the home of Tata Steel - India's first private steel plant set up by Jamshedji Tata. The city is administered by the Tatas; it does not have a municipal corporation. In addition to Tata Steel, there are other companies like Tata Motors, TCS, TRF and Tata Tinplate.

Jamshedji Tata was a visionary. He told the planners of the city: "Be sure to lay wide streets planted with shady trees, every other of a quick growing variety. Be sure that there is plenty of space for lawns and gardens; reserve large areas for football, hockey and parks; earmark areas for Hindu temples, Mohammedan mosques and Christian churches." In 2004, Jamshedpur was chosen to be one of the six cities to participate in the UN Global Compact Cities pilot programme, along with Melbourne (Australia), Porto Alegre (Brazil), Tianjin (PRC), Nairobi (Kenya), and San Francisco (USA).

We don't have any business in Jamshedpur. We stop on the highway for tea and snacks. NH 33 beyond Jamshedpur is full of pot holes. It is reminiscent of the road to Jagdalpur. We can only crawl at around 30 kilometres an hour. We decide to halt for the night at Baripada in Odisha, which is around 150-160 kilometres from Jamshedpur. Traffic is pretty heavy on this road. Poor Guna is put to test again. However, he is comforted that Cheenu and Latha are leading the way, although we lose our way a couple of times and have to do U-turns. The road is really bad for about a 100 kilometre stretch. Fortunately, all our tyres are still intact. There is not much conversation inside the Ford Fiesta. Everyone seems lost in their thoughts or probably tired.

It strikes me that between Gaya and Puri, for nearly a 1,000 kilometre stretch, there are no famous Hindu temples. This region is largely inhabited by the adivasis or tribes of India. Adivasis constitute the original Aboriginal population of India. The British conducted the first census in India in 1872, in which 17 indigenous tribes were identified in the region that is known as Jharkhand today: (1)Khorta (2) Binjhia, (3) Gond, (4) Ho, (5) Kharia, (6) Kharwar, (7) Khond, (8) Kisan, (9) Korwa, (10) Mal Paharia, (11) Munda, (12) Oraon, (13) Santhal, (14) Sauria Paharia, (15) Savar, (16) Bhumij, (17) Birhor Chero. Currently, there are 32 tribes listed in the government website for the region.

The Santhals, Oraon and Munda are the three largest tribes. Currently, these tribes constitute less than 30 percent of the total population of Jharkhand, which is around 33 million. They are a minority in their own homeland. The tribal population has continued to decline since the 19th century due to industrialisation and urbanisation. After India's independence, 90 major dams, 400 medium-sized dams and 11,878 minor dams were built in Jharkhand since 1951. There are nearly 80 major industries and factories in the region. Yet the indigenous tribes, who were mainly hunter-gatherers, have largely remained destitute. Dams, industries, mines, wildlife sanctuaries, defence establishments, airstrips, housing colonies, roads, and railways displaced nearly three million of these indigenous people.

While 69 percent of Jharkhand's population are listed as Hindus, the indigenous tribes follow their own religion called Sarna, which means 'sacred grove.' They perform their rituals under Sal trees, resembling a patch of forest. The adivasis believe their world to be inhabited by numerous spiritual beings of different kinds. Tribal communities consider themselves as living and doing everything in close association with these spirits. There are lot of commonalities between Hinduism and Sarna but Sarna is mainly about worshipping Nature as God. The God of the adivasis is called Sing Bonga. He is eternal, omnipresent, omniscient and omnipotent. Sacrifices are offered to him in gratitude. The Oraons believe in an almighty called 'Dharmesh in Kurukh', also referred to as Mahadev. He is considered the most pure. All sacrifices to Him have to be of things that are white, such as white sugar, milk, and white cloth. It seems rather similar to the way Shiva is worshipped by the Hindus. The adivasis don't speak Sanskrit, which is an Indo-Aryan language. But their religious practises seem to have a lot of similarities with Vedic rituals.

The Vedic culture and civilisation was heavily into nature worship, because ancient Indians were mainly hunter-gatherers and agriculturalists. They were simple people. By the Buddha's time, the economy had started to become more complex. There was increasing urbanisation and people began to move away from nature. The Vedic Indians lived in the forest in harmony with nature. Nature taught them its secrets. Prince Siddhartha, however, was a city dweller. He had to run away to the forest to become the Buddha. It seems to me that the adivasis of India may be the true practitioners of Sanathan Dharma, which is different from what we call Hinduism. In fact, many historians and anthropologists believe that much of what constitutes Hinduism today has descended from an amalgamation of adivasi beliefs, rituals, practises, and deities, rather than the original Indo-Aryan faith. They also suggest that the sacred status in Hinduism of animals such as monkeys, cows, peacocks, cobras (nagas) and elephants, and plants such as the sacred fig (Peepal), Ocimum tenuiflorum (Tulsi) and Azadirachta indica (Neem) may also have originated from the tribal religions.

It is nearly 9:30 pm when we drive into Baripada. Latha has been looking for hotels in Baripada in MakeMyTrip on her smart phone. We follow them as they drive to a hotel. There is open space in front of the hotel, where we park the cars. There is a very small reception area with a solitary man at the desk. It is pretty cold outside. Babs wants to inspect the rooms before making a booking. Latha, Cheenu and Babs check out the rooms. Babs is not happy with the level of cleanliness. He wants to look for rooms elsewhere but he doesn't want to give up the rooms if we are unable to find anything better. Around 10pm in the night, after driving almost the whole day through very bad roads, Babs wants to personally ensure that we have decent rooms to rest at night. This is one of those occasions that his love and concern makes you teary-eyed.

Babs asks us to stay at the reception and pushes off in search of better rooms for the night with Latha and Cheenu. Saro and Jayashree sit in the car while Guna and I wait in the reception area. Guna tries to chat with the man at the desk, who has a heavy Bengali accent. I glance at the local newspaper. It is nearly 10:45 pm when the Renault Logan returns. It is Cheenu to take us to another hotel that they have found which seems slightly better. It is called Subhadra Hotel. It is so nondescript that no one has reviewed it on the web. In the Hindu epic Mahabharatha, Subhadra was the half-sister of Krishna. She falls in love with Arjuna, who is masquerading as an ascetic. Krishna encourages Arjuna to kidnap her, much to the chagrin of Krishna's brother Balarama.

It is nearly 11 pm when we slip into the bed. The room is definitely not posh. Among the hotels that we have stayed in the trip so far, this would rank the lowest. But, thanks to Babs, it is clean. It doesn't have running hot water. But the hotel promise to deliver a bucket of hot water to our rooms in the morning. Babs is in the room right next to ours. He could be the Buddha himself. Or Krishna. Who knows?

That's what makes Subhadra Hotel so special.
7. Parasitic Pandas at Puri

Morning of January 9, 2014. I wake up a little groggy and disoriented. Where am I? Who am I? The second question seems unanswerable. I recall the previous day's events. We are in a Hotel Subhadra in Baripada. It is a little before 6 am. Jayashree is awake too and is busy organising hot water for a bath. Hotel Subhadra may not be posh but they make up for it in customer service. Soon a bucket of hot water is delivered to our room. As I lie awake in bed, I can hear Jayashree cheerfully singing Hanuman Chalisa. She is happy. After my morning ablutions, I too feel appropriately pure and sacred. We assemble, along with Cheenu, Latha, Saro and Guna, in Babs' room next door for the morning homam. Babs says that he could hear Jayashree singing Hanuman Chalisa. Hotel Subhadra is not huge on sound proofing.

After the homam, we decide to leave for Puri and have breakfast on the way. As we check out, Guna asks me if I would mind driving as he has a backache. I feel sorry for him. He has driven for seven days under the most trying conditions. I tell him that I would be delighted to drive. My two previous experiences of driving on this trip were in fairly desolate places without any traffic. This would be the first time I would be driving in traffic in India. I am curious to know what it would be like. I get into the car and do my usual car prayer for safe driving. Babs is in the Renault with Latha and Cheenu. I adjust my seat, adjust the mirrors and start the car. I ease it out of the vacant space that doubles up as the hotel parking and follow Cheenu. Baripada to Puri is around five hours by road on NH 5. It is the same highway that we took from Chennai to Vijayawada. On that route, we skirt Cuttack and Bhubaneshwar, crossing the Mahanadi River near Cuttack. NH 5 starts around 30 kilometres from Baripada and goes all the way to Chennai through Andhra Pradesh for a distance of around 1,500 kilometres.

Early morning traffic in Baripada is not heavy. However, there are cycles, two wheelers, cars, buses and trucks. I remember that I am in India and honk the horn repeatedly. After a while I realise that I am the only one honking on the road. The traffic seems to be flowing peacefully without much honking. Soon we leave the town and are on the highway, which appears to be NH 5. The road is in a reasonably good condition. It is a pleasant morning and rural Odisha looks wonderful. Although there is traffic on the road, it is not heavy. I am beginning to enjoy driving in India. It is not any more challenging than driving anywhere else but it is a different experience. You have to constantly be alert, watch and adapt. I am content to follow Cheenu's lead although his signalling is occasionally baffling. For no reason, he seems to switch his indicator lights on and off. I try to discern a pattern to his indicating. Perhaps he is sending me a secret code. But I give up and realise that it is random. I feel good about the Ford Fiesta. Although it is under-powered, it handles well. I like it.

After about 90 minutes of peaceful driving, I see Cheenu take a diversion and heading for what appears to be a roadside restaurant. I follow him and park right next to him. The restaurant, which seems quite large, is almost empty. The kitchen staff are friendly and seem over-joyed to see us. We leave Latha and Cheenu to order breakfast while we find a private dining area away from the main hall. Jayashree sits opposite to Babs and she asks him if she could sing for him. He consents and she sings a popular Samratchana song.

I join Latha and Cheenu who supervise the kitchen staff to ensure quick delivery of food. They are there to make the sleepy, laid-back Odisha restaurant into a fast food joint because Babs doesn't like to linger and wait in any place, other than a temple. Latha quickly sets up a supply chain with a strict division of labour. She commands one of them to quickly toast slices of bread. One of them rolls out dough for puris (unleavened deep-fired Indian bread), another one fries them; another individual is cutting vegetables while yet another one is cooking them. As soon as the puris are out of the frying pan, Latha goads them into putting them on plates; Cheenu and I play the waiters, transporting plates of hot food to our private dining area. As I run back and forth, I can hear Latha is barking orders, cajoling them and motivating them, like a coxswain on a boat. She is simultaneously affectionate and authoritarian, which is kind of weird. As I run from the kitchen to the dining area carrying a plate of buttered toast, I am fascinated by her supervisory style.

There is another group of people in the restaurant waiting for their breakfast of puris and potato curry. Having Latha facilitating the production process helps; we purloin their puris. We have hot breakfast and the customary cup of Indian chai. As we walk out of the restaurant after paying, I note that the other group is still waiting for their breakfast. When you travel with Babs, you learn these tricks of how to speed up things. On reaching the car, I find Guna in the driver's seat. He is feeling well and wants to drive. Saro, Jayashree and I get into the Ford while Babs gets into the Renault with Cheenu and Latha. The rest of the route to Puri is uneventful.

The Mahanadi River is probably the most important river in Odisha. In ancient times, it connected Cuttack and Sambalpur in Odisha with other parts of the world. During the monsoon period, Mahanadi carries as much water as the much larger Ganges but, unlike Ganges, Mahanadi is a seasonal river. In recent years, Mahanadi has become a much polluted river. 34 urban settlements around the Mahanadi basin in Odisha discharge untreated waste water, including sewage, into the river. Ten coal mines and numerous industries discharge water with heavy metals and sulphur compounds into the river. The local government has pleaded lack of resources for being unable to control the pollution despite huge unspent funds lying idle with the Odisha Pollution Control Board. Sadly, like the rest of India, indifference, ignorance, incompetence and corruption are the main reasons for the severe environmental degradation. What the local government needs is someone like Latha to be constantly on their back to ensure that they do what they are paid to do.

Puri is about 60 kilometres from the capital of Odisha, Bhubaneshwar, on the coast of Bay of Bengal. Hindus consider it one of the seven holy cities in India. The others are: Ayodhya, Mathura, Māyā (Haridwar), Kāshi, Kāñchī, Avantikā (Ujjain), and Dvārāvatī (Dwarka). Along with Badrinath, Dwarka and Rameswaram, Puri is one of the four pilgrimage sites (Char Dham) considered most sacred by the Hindus. Interestingly, Puri and Dwarka lie on almost the same latitude whereas Badrinath and Rameshwaram are on roughly the same longitude. It is nearly mid-day when we reach Puri. In contrast to the serene drive up to Puri, the city of about 200,000 people and innumerable visitors is all hustle and bustle. It is crowded and noisy. Puri's holiness derives from its famous Jagannath Temple.

The present day Jagannath temple was built between the 11th and 12th century by the Kalinga rulers of the Ganga dynasty in Eastern India. The founder of this dynasty was Anantavarman Chodaganga Deva (1078-1148), who is credited with the construction of the Jagannath Temple. His mother was the daughter of the Chola king Vira Rajendra Chola in South India, in present day Tamil Nadu. The Chola king Kulothunga Chola I of the Chola dynasty was the Kalinga king's uncle and was the ruler of the Chola kingdom during Anantavarman Chodaganga Deva's reign. Regrettably, Anantavarman Chodaganga Deva failed to pay his tribute to the Chola King twice in a row. He probably spent the amount in constructing the temple. The Chola King, despite being his uncle, was unimpressed. He sent his general, Karunakara Tondaiman, to teach the Kalinga king a lesson. According to the Tamil poem, Kalingattuparani, Tondaiman was victorious; Anantavarman fled and no one seems to have heard of him again. Tondaiman erected a pillar of victory and probably sacked the Jagannnath Temple. The temple was rebuilt to its present form in 1174 by King Ananga Bheema Deva. The chronicle of the temple is known as Madala Panji, in which all the historical incidents relating to the Jagannath temple are recorded. According to this chronicle, the Jagannath Temple was invaded and plundered 18 times, mostly by Muslim invaders. Although the idols were defaced and carvings mutilated, unlike Kashi, the temple buildings were not destroyed.

Anantavarman Chodaganga Deva seems to have built his temple on the ruins of a previous temple. Various Hindu Puranas (historical accounts) describe Lord Jagannath (Lord of the World) being worshipped as Neela Madhava (Blue Krishna) by a tribal chief. The temple legend mentions Lord Jagannath manifesting as a blue jewel or blue sapphire in a banyan tree. The jewel was so dazzling that it could grant instant moksha or liberation. It was hidden from people by the god of justice but Lord Vishnu instructed King Indrayumna in the Dwapara Yuga, who performed intense penance to retrieve the blue jewel, to go to Puri. The king was instructed to find a floating log on the sea shore and make idols from its trunk. The king made three idols - one of Jagannath (Krishna), his brother Balarama or Balabadhra and his sister Subadhra. These three, somewhat grotesque, wooden statues constitute the deities in the Jagannath Temple. It is one of the few temples in India that don't have deities made of metal or stone.

There is little doubt that Puri was an ancient sacred site just like Kashi. The sacredness of Puri probably predates the Jagannath Temple. When Adi Shankara visited Puri in the 8th or 9th century, the present temple hadn't been built. But he established the Govardhana Matha. Obviously, he wouldn't have done that unless Puri was already spiritually significant. In fact, the temple capitalised on the sanctity of Puri. Sri Ramanujacharya, the great Vaishnava saint, also visited Puri and set up a matha called Emar Matha. Sri Chaitanya, the 16th century saint from Bengal well-known for chanting Hare Krishna, came to Puri and stayed there for 24 years. Guru Nanak, the founder of the Sikh religion visited Puri and established the Mangu Matha. Although these saints belonged to different sects and worshipped different God forms, they all found their personal God in the Jagannath Temple. Kabir saw Allah in the temple whereas Tulsidas could see Ram. Obviously, there is something spiritually significant about Puri, if it could attract saints from diverse sects and religions.

The Jagannath Temple is most famous for its chariot festival (Rath Yatra) in the months of June/July every year. The three idols are brought out of the temple and taken in huge 45-foot high wooden chariots pulled by devotees on a three kilometre procession down the main road to another temple called the Gundicha Temple. The main chariot has 16 wooden wheels. The other two for Balabhadra and Subadhra have 14 and 12 wheels respectively. In the past, many devotees were crushed under the giant wheels as they attempted to touch the chariots in a fit of religious frenzy. The English word juggernaut is derived from Jagannanth and means "any large, overpowering, destructive force or object, as war, a giant battleship, or a powerful football team." It also means blind devotion or cruel sacrifice.

The deities remain in the Gundicha Temple for nine days and then are brought back to the main temple in the same chariots. In Puri, priests in the temple are called pandas. In the main Jagannath Temple, the pandas who perform rituals such as the puja and arthi are tribals called Daitas. They are not Brahmins. But in the Gundicha Temple, only Brahmin pandas are allowed to perform the rituals. In the Gundicha Temple, the idols are smeared with sandalwood paste, twice a day. They are also dressed in new clothes every day. In other words, in the Gundicha Temple, the idols are subjected to traditional Brahminic rituals. It is significant that God stays in the Gundicha Temple for only nine days. It remains empty for the rest of the year. Obviously, he prefers the main temple.

I am not sure if the Rath Yatra has any spiritual significance. It seems a ritual carried over from feudal days of kings and queens rather mindlessly into the 21st century, where its main purpose today is tourism and commerce. The Rath Yatra attracts about a million people every year. Many are just tourists, with no interest in God or spirituality. Many Hindus mistakenly believe that just looking at the idols in the chariot would absolve them of all sins. It is a foolish belief. It is not so easy to get rid of your sins. You have to experience the consequences of your actions, both positive and negative. God is merciful but will make you experience the consequences of your actions, again and again, till you learn the appropriate lessons. As Krishna repeatedly tells Arjuna in the Gita, don't ever doubt this. If you think you can completely escape the consequences of your actions by bathing in the Ganges, being in Kashi or gawking at a wooden chariot with wooden idols, you are a fool. These pilgrimages are meant to start you on a spiritual path. They are not the end point.

The Rath Yatra originated probably as a Buddhist ritual when huge statues of Buddha were hauled across in chariots by Buddhist devotees. It was later incorporated into Hinduism as a temple ritual. Prior to the 16th century, the local kings in Puri gave up their royal garb for one day each year, wore the ordinary clothes of a sweeper, swept the streets, pulled the chariot and danced with devotion. They did this once a year to show that they were ordinary mortals and no different from sweepers in the eyes of God. It was called Chera Pahara. However, that kind of devotion and feelings are largely absent today. The pandas share the chariot with God. If they really loved God, they should be pulling the chariots with other devotees.

Most current rituals associated with the Rath Yatra are of recent origin. They reflect the control and domination of one class of priests (Brahmins) over others. All the rhetoric about the sacredness of the Rath Yatra and finding justifications for it in Hindu puranas and religious texts is probably not true. The real spiritual significance of the Rath Yatra is being able to see that the idols on the chariot represent the God within each of us. Our body is the chariot, which hauls the God within. Every day in your life is a Rath Yatra. Haul your body with devotion and respect because God is within you. There are no priests between you and Him. This is the teaching of Sanathan Dharma, the sacred wisdom tradition of ancient India..

In Puri, you can't drive up to the temple. You have to park quite some distance from the main temple and take other forms of transportation. We park the cars amidst narrow lanes in a parking area and engage an auto rickshaw. All seven of us pile into one auto rickshaw after haggling over the fare. It feels like a chariot, hauled by a motor and a driver, and containing Jagannnath with His six attendants.

The Jagannath Temple complex is huge. The main temple is on a raised platform with 22 steps. On the left of the main temple is a giant kitchen that can feed 100,000 people at few hours' notice. On the right is a huge market place. The main temple faces the east and entrance is through the Lions Gate in the east. There are three other entrances in the north, south and west of the temple. Around the main temple, there are about 30 smaller temples. These were probably built later.

One thing that bothers me about the Jagannath Temple is that only orthodox Hindus are allowed entry into the main temple. If the temple claims to house the Lord of the world, how can entry be restricted to others? Jagannath Temple at Puri has a history of restricting access to individuals. Mahatma Gandhi, Rabindranath Tagore, Indira Gandhi and Kabir were all denied entry into the main temple; Indira Gandhi was married to a non-Hindu, Tagore followed Brahmo Samaj, Kabir was dressed like a Muslim and Mahatma Gandhi tried to enter with Harijans.

I don't consider myself an orthodox Hindu but no one stops me from the entering the main temple. It is pretty crowded in the main temple. The ticket counters are closed. We are told that the tickets for darshan are not available till 4 pm. There are a lot of guards, policemen and pandas, all hanging around aimlessly. Not one of them is able to give any kind of coherent information about ticket availability or darshan. Perhaps, I am biased but I cannot detect any divinity or sanctity within the main temple. All I hear is the noise of egos clamouring for control, attention and self-gratification. My feelings are in stark contrast to what I experienced inside the Kashi Vishwanath Temple. We try to catch a glimpse of the three main deities in the inner sanctum. The temple is very crowded and we have to constantly shift to different positions and angles to get a better darshan. Surprisingly, in real life, the deities are quite large. They are made out of wood from the Margosa tree, also known as the Neem tree in India. They look like a child's dolls. I can only look at them in fascinated awe.

After much jostling and pushing, we finally find some space in front of the deities just behind the steel railing. Inside the temple, the pandas have a pair of bamboo sticks in their hands. I notice them occasionally smacking people with it. We stand behind the railing where we have a clear view of the deities. I am standing next to Babs, who is in deep prayer with his eyes closed and his hands pressed together, palms touching, fingers pointing upwards and thumbs close to the chest - the traditional pose of praying to God. Suddenly the priest standing in front of him starts smacking Babs' hands with his sticks and asks him to raise his hands above the head. As I watch this, I am overcome with fury and rage. I have an uncontrollable urge to break the sticks on the Panda's head but I control myself. I don't want to make a scene inside a place of worship and besides it would reflect badly on Babs. Babs does not react at all. He does not get upset or angry. He just opens his eyes and says nothing.

Puri is referred to as Purushottam-Kshetra and Lord Jagannath is referred to as Purushottam - Supreme Being or highest male. On that day, inside the Jagannath Temple at Puri, there is only one Purushottam and he is standing beside me. His gesture of prayer is called Añjali Mudrā or Pranamasana, which is a 3000-year old gesture. The ignorant panda wants him to raise his hands like a supplicant begging to God. The stupidity of human beings never ceases to amaze me. We are ready to believe that God is a grotesque painted wooden statue but we can't recognise divinity when it stands in flesh and blood right in front of us.

I feel very guilty for not chastising the priest. I also don't feel very pious or loving. Am I being unreasonable and biased? Probably, because I love Babs. But here is a sample of reviews on TripAdvisor:

the temple is very good but the pandas are not good at all. they are like robbers inside the temple. they are ready to loot you anytime in the name of god. so beware of these pandas in the temple.

Dont expect to pray peacefully for sometime just near the main statue.. My head was banged to the raised platform by the pundit himself. So in a sense he made me bow near God and asked me to move ahead. I wanted to tell him my head was not a coconut but then I only get the chance to say that here.

We were accosted by a priest offering to guide us inside the temple and even though we refused many times he kept following us. When we finally started entering the main temple he stopped us saying the temple was "theirs" and we could not enter without paying a contribution. When we asked how a temple of God could belong to them instead of the society he became aggressive even though we had a 1 year old kid with us.

Pandas are dacoits there. Be careful from them and be alert. Their aim is to empty your pocket only.

Being a religious and god fearing person myself, I do not intent to hurt any religious sentiment but I will be candid - everyone including the priests were trying to make money out of us. It felt as if thats the business being run in the name of god.

The pandas at the main Puja tend to fleece you even the policemen surround you for money. Beware most disgusting. My daughter was so disgusted that she felt that they were selling God

entire experience was ruined by horrible rude and pushy admin/mgt who is just out there to extort money from as many ppl by pushing them around. be it ladies, senior citizens or children.

However, there are also a large number of positive reviews about the temple describing experiences of divinity and devotion inside the temple. How does one explain these contradictory experiences? While I am very disturbed about how Babs was treated inside the temple, I don't wish to discount the sanctity of the place. What gives a temple its sanctity? What makes a place sacred? Why does the Jagannath Temple evoke contradictory feelings? How does one pray to God in a temple? I ponder over these questions as we walk out of the temple.

It is a long walk back to where the cars are parked. It is pretty hot. We make our way back to the cars without further mishap. Babs, Latha and Cheenu in the Renault lead the way. We follow them as they drive along the beach front to a restaurant. The restaurant is next to a magnificent building, which appears to be a hotel. We park the cars in the car park of the hotel and walk to the restaurant, which is right in front. It is not crowded. We order a thali meal each. A thali is a meal made up of various dishes served in small bowls in a round steel tray. The food is delicious.

After the lunch, I get my pictures taken with Latha and Cheenu inside the restaurant. I am wearing the rugby jersey that Latha gave me as a gift. We walk out to the car park area in front of the hotel. I have to settle accounts with Latha and Cheenu, who have been paying for hotels and food in Kashi, Bodh Gaya, and Baripada. Babs has asked them to go back to Kanpur. After some complex calculations on bits of paper, Latha tells me how much I need to pay her. I borrow some more cash from Saro, who is the resident cashier/banker in the Ford Fiesta and pay Latha. I make note of how much I borrowed and how much I paid. The accounts are beginning to get complex and messy.

Latha and Cheenu are very reluctant to part from Babs. He relents and tells them to accompany us till Brahmapur, our night halt. They are over-joyed. When we reach the cars, we find a couple of people staring at our Ford Fiesta. One of its tyres is flat again! The ever resourceful Cheenu quickly gets someone to change the tyre. We have to remove the bags from the boot to take out the spare tyre and the jack. With Cheenu around, Guna feels secure. After three flat tyres, he is also beginning to feel blasé about flat tyres. We decide to get the flat tyre fixed on the way.

Brahmapur, which is also called Berhampur, is about 180 kilometres from Puri, We have to take a minor road from Puri and connect to NH 5. Cheenu leads the way, once again, with Latha and Babs in his Renault Logan. We follow in the Ford Fiesta. Near the outskirts of the city, Cheenu spots a roadside tyre repair shop. We stop some distance from the shop and take out the flat tyre from the boot. A group of curious children gather around us. Cheenu, Guna, Latha, Jayashree and I, take the tyre to the shop, where there are three or four individuals. The mechanic locates the puncture. Fortunately, it is fixable. As the mechanic proceeds to insert a plug coated with rubber cement, Cheenu tells me a rude joke involving rubber cement.

I notice the other three men looking at me curiously and whispering to each other. They probably find my rugby jersey too loud. One of them approaches me and says in a mixture of Hindi and English: "Excuse me sir, if I am not mistaken, you are Mr Anupam Kher.' Mr Anupam Kher is a well-known Bollywood actor who has acted in hundreds of films. He is probably a couple of years younger than me. He is a comedy actor and usually acts as the hero's or the heroine's father or uncle. Of course, in India, any male above the age of 40 automatically becomes an uncle. I am about to correct his incorrect perception but I hold myself back. Why spoil the poor man's fantasy? With a mental apology to the real Mr Kher, I decide to give him joy. I ask him how he found out that I was Anupam Kher. He gives his companions a triumphant look. I get carried away and introduce Latha as my secretary. I also feel sorry for the poor wretches. Any state in which people see me as a Bollywood celebrity must be completely stuffed. Meanwhile, Cheenu buys a few packets of biscuits from the shop next door and distributes them to the curious children. I tell Babs, who has been sitting inside the Renault, about my experience. Babs, ever so sweet, says: "No, no, you are better than Anupam Kher." I am not sure if the real Mr Kher would agree with that.

The minor road that connects to NH 5 is in a pretty bad shape. It is a long, slow, dusty drive. Mostly, we crawl along at 30 kilometres an hour. As we drive towards Brahmapur, I ponder over the day's experience. In ancient India, Puri was considered as sacred as Kashi. Today, however, Puri has become a tourist resort with a temple attached to it, whereas Kashi retains most of its sanctity. Why does the much smaller Kashi Vishwanath Temple evoke so much feelings of reverence in me than the larger Puri Jagannath Temple? I am probably being unfair because I am disturbed by the incident in the temple. I am mostly upset at myself for not doing anything.

The fascinating thing about the Puri Jagannath temple is that it is a fusion. The deity was originally a tribal God called Neel Madhav, which people mistakenly believe to be Krishna with a blue skin or blue eyes. The tribal deity was made of wood but it is believed that a mysterious object was placed inside the main idol. Every 12 years, the idols are replaced with new ones made out of fresh wood in a secret ceremony called Nava Kalevara. The explanation given in the temple website is: "A wooden object is liable to decay after a certain period and needs replacement. So the images of Jagannatha require a change over to new bodies." This is not true. A wooden object can last for more than 12 years. It is interesting to note that Hindu temples in India are re-charged in a ceremony called Kumbabhishekam that takes place once in 12 years.

The Nava Kalevara is intended to renew the spiritual energy of the idols, not the wood. The mysterious object is transferred from the old to the new idols. Perhaps, the mysterious object inside the idol is its source of spiritual energy. Since the process of renewal is secretive, no one really knows what is inside the idol. Some have speculated that the mysterious object is Buddha's tooth relic. They claim that the originally the Jagannath Temple was a Buddhist temple; the three idols represent the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha; Jagannath is another name for Buddha; the Rath Yatra originated as a Buddhist ritual; the offering to God called mahaprasad or Kaivalya are distributed to all without caste discrimination, which is a Buddhist practice. Although speculative, these are plausible arguments. If you pray to the deity inside the Jagannath Temple, you could be praying to the Buddha's tooth.

Others have claimed that the temple was originally a Jain temple. The three main idols of Jagannath, Balabhadra and Subhadra represent the Jain Trinity of Samyak Jnana, Samyak Charita and Samyak Drusti. They argue that the original deity was a Jain Thirthankara. According to Jain scholars, the idol of Jagannath (Black colour) represents Sunya, Subhadra symbolizes the creative energy and Balabhadra (White colour) represents the phenomenal universe. All these images have evolved from the Nila Madhava, the ancient Kalinga Jina. Sudarshana Chakra is believed to be the Hindu name of the Dharma Chakra of Jaina symbol. The term Kaivalya (liberation), exclusive to the cult of Jagannath, is derived from the Jaina tradition.

At the Jagannath Temple, the idols were replaced in the years of 1912, 1931, 1950, 1969, 1977, and so on. The present idols were replaced in 1996 and are probably long overdue for replacement. There are extraordinarily stringent conditions for selecting the trees for making the idols. The Neem tree from which the Jaganannath idol is to be carved out should be dark; the trees for the other two idols must be lighter in colour. The Neem tree for Lord Jagannath must have four principal branches – symbolising the four arms of Narayana. There must be a body of water near the tree – like a river or a large pond and a cremation ground nearby. An ant-hill should be close to the tree and there must be a snake-pit of a cobra at the roots of the tree. No bird must have made nests in the tree; and no branches must have been broken or cut. The tree should be located near a three-way or should be surrounded by three mountains. No creepers must have grown on the tree; Varuna, Sahada and Billva trees (these three trees are not very common) should be close by. There must be a hermitage and a temple of Lord Shiva in the vicinity. On the tree trunk there must be natural impressions of conch-shell and chakra (wheel).

With the current level of deforestation and environmental degradation, we may never find a tree that satisfies these conditions. Under these circumstances, how can the spiritual energy in a temple be recharged? According to Babs, if a large number of sincere and serious devotees visit the temple, they can replenish the energy of the temple. That's what happens at the Balaji Temple at Tirupathi. According to Babs, the energy can also be replenished if the temple is kept clean and pure with regular rituals conducted in the prescribed manner by sincere priests. That happens at Tirupathi too. However, the temple energy can also be recharged and replenished if certain types of individuals visit the temple. A siddha who is enlightened is at a higher level of energy than any temple. If such a person visits a temple, he can recharge it. Babs, of course, is such a siddha. He doesn't need to visit any temple. He only does so to set an example for others and, more importantly, to recharge the temple. That's why it is not a good idea to hit him with bamboo sticks - particularly when he is probably recharging the energy of the temple.

After a couple of hours of driving, we connect with NH 5. It is in good condition and the driving becomes pleasant. We take the exit to Brahmapur and drive into the city. Latha has arranged accommodation for the night in a hotel called Jyoti Residency. It has mixed reviews on TripAdvisor, It is a moderately priced average hotel, in the centre of the city, a couple of kilometres from the Railway Station. It is nearly 10:30 pm when we reach the hotel. We have to park the cars near the basement and carry our bags to the first floor, where the Reception is located. The man at the Reception desk seems friendly. The rooms appear to be reasonably clean.

Babs has a set routine when he checks into a hotel room. It is almost like a ritual. He re-arranges everything in the room to make it tidier and cleaner. Then he switches on the TV with the remote. Regrettably, in Jyoti Residency, the remote is missing in his room. His routine is disrupted. He steps into the corridor looking for Latha and Cheenu. I ask him if he needs any help. He says that he can't find the remote. I give him the remote from our room. He asks me if it would work in his room. I tell him I am pretty sure it would but we could check it out. It works and Babs is happy. "What about you?" he asks. I tell him not to worry. I haven't watched TV for a few years now. However, he returns the remote a little later.

Next morning, before checkout, we assemble in his room as usual for the morning homam. Latha and Cheenu are returning to Kanpur so we settle our accounts separately. Cheenu has located a South Indian restaurant a few minutes' walk from the hotel. We walk down to the restaurant and have hot South Indian food for breakfast. Tearful farewells are bid to Latha and Cheenu. They are such good value. I could travel with them endlessly. Then Cheenu discovers that his car won't start. They probably have to stay for another day in the hotel till it is fixed because it is long way back home to Kanpur. It doesn't surprise me that the car broke down after we reached the hotel. I have noticed in my travels with Babs that breakdowns mostly occur in convenient places.

Babs joins us in the Ford Fiesta. It feels strange to have him back. It is like welcoming back a lover who has walked off after a tiff. But Babs is cheerful. Our route back to Chennai is on NH 5. We plan to stop at Simhachalam and Annavaram on the way and reach Vijayawada in the evening. We leave for Chennai the following morning.

Our first stop is Simhachalam in the outskirts of Visakhapatnam also known as Vizag. The road is in a good condition and it is a pleasant drive. In the car, Babs talks about his youth. He started to work at the age of 20 for a transportation company in Chennai. In his very first year withe company, he earned them a profit of Rs.70 Lakhs (7,000,000) which was a huge amount in the late 1960s. In a very short time, he was made a general manager in the company. He started his own business and built a bungalow for his family in the 1970s. In 1988, he had to sell the house as his business had declined after his 'death' experience in 1984 and his turning to God. It sold for Rs.16.6 lakhs (1.66 million). Subsequently, a rival, who claimed to be a spiritualist, wanted to harass Babs. He challenged the sale in the High Court. The court passed a judgement that the sale amount was unfair to Babs and asked the seller to pay Babs Rs.45 lakhs (4.5 million). Babs submitted a petition requesting the court to donate the amount to the Murugan (Karthikeya) Temple at Palani.

Inside the Ford Fiesta, which also doubles up as Babs' mobile office, I have been assigned the role of his secretary. I call Raghunath, with whom we travelled to Vijayawada and Badrachalam, to facilitate our darshan at the Simhachalam Temple. He arranges a reporter called Gopal from a Telugu newspaper called Sakshi to meet us at the Temple and arrange the darshan. I am intrigued with the name Sakshi Gopal till I remember that it is also the name of a temple on the Puri Bhubaneshwar Highway in Odisha.

The temple legend is that Lord Krishna agreed to bear witness to a young man who had been promised by his village chief that he could marry his daughter because the young man looked after him when he was very ill. However, the chief reneged on his promise and the young man sought God as a witness to the contract. Lord Krishna agreed to help the young man on the condition that he would follow the young man to his village but the man must never look back. While they were near the village, the young man must have become anxious. He looked back to make sure Krishna was following him. According to the legend, Krishna turned into a stone statue at that spot, where the current temple has been built. It is interesting that there are many similar temple legends across India. The temple legend of the Sharada Temple at Shringeri in Karnataka is very similar.

The Simhachalam Temple, also known as Simhadri, is on top of a hill in the outskirts of Visakhapatnam. Simha means lion and the temple is dedicated to an incarnation of Lord Vishnu known as Narasimha, who was half man and half lion. He has a human body but the face of a lion with claws in his hand. The Narasimha legend is described in the Bhagavata Purana. There was a demon called Hiranyakaśipu, who performed several years of intense penance. Lord Brahma, the Creator, appeared before him and offered him a boon. Hiranyakaśipu asked for immortality. Lord Brahma told him that it was not possible for any created being to become immortal. He asked Hiranyakaśipu to ask for something else.

Hiranyakaśipu thought he was smart and laid down a large number of contingent clauses for his death. He said: "O my lord, O best of the givers of benediction, if you will kindly grant me the benediction I desire, please let me not meet death from any of the living entities created by you; Grant me that I not die within any residence or outside any residence, during the daytime or at night, nor on the ground or in the sky. Grant me that my death not be brought about by any weapon, nor by any human being or animal; Grant me that I not meet death from any entity, living or non-living created by you. Grant me, further, that I not be killed by any demigod or demon or by any great snake from the lower planets. Since no one can kill you in the battlefield, you have no competitor. Therefore, grant me the benediction that I too may have no rival. Give me sole lordship over all the living entities and presiding deities, and give me all the glories obtained by that position. Furthermore, give me all the mystic powers attained by long austerities and the practice of yoga, for these cannot be lost at any time."

Lord Brahma said: "So be it." Meanwhile, the celestials (Devas) attacked Hiranyakaśipu's home but the sage Narada saved his wife, as she was virtuous. Narada instructed her on the glory of God, which was heard by her unborn son Prahlada. He grew up to become an ardent devotee of Lord Vishnu, which immensely disappointed Hiranyakaśipu. The father couldn't imagine that his son could be so devoted to anyone other than him. Hiranyakaśipu tried to correct the son but was not successful because Prahlada remained steadfast in his devotion. Hiranyakaśipu tried all kinds of tactics to get Prahlada change his mind. Among other things, he tried poisoning him and burning him. He put Prahlada on the lap of his sister Holika who had received a boon that she could not be harmed by fire. Holika sat on a pyre with Prahlada on her lap and was burnt to death. Prahlada was unharmed. This event is celebrated as Holi in North India. I have no idea why they throw coloured powder and water at each other. Hiranyakaśipu put Prahlada in a pit of venomous snakes, got him trampled by elephants and had him thrown over a cliff. Hiranyakaśipu was not a nice daddy at all. Prahlada escaped unscathed after every encounter due to the grace of Lord Vishnu.

One day, in sheer frustration, Hiranyakaśipu asked his son to tell him where this Lord Vishnu could be found. Prahlada replied that he could be found anywhere - in a twig or even in this pillar. Furious with rage, Hiranyakaśipu attempted to smash the pillar. A most terrible form emerged from the pillar with a frightening roar. It was half animal and half man. A fight ensued. Finally Hiranyakaśipu was dragged across to his doorstep (neither inside nor outside) around twilight time (neither day nor night) and his entrails were clawed out (no weapon).

The terrible form was Lord Vishnu as Narasimha. He was not born and was not a living entity. Lord Vishnu played by the rules, fulfilling all of Hiranyakaśipu's contingent clauses. He was also severely pissed off because his ardent devotee Prahlada was subjected to unnecessary torture. Even after disembowelling Hiranyakaśipu, Narasimha was not pacified. It took a while for him to cool down. It is believed that Prahlada reincarnated as the 16th century saint Sri Raghavendra, whose spirit entered Babs' body in 1984. We are visiting the Narasimha Temple with the spirit of Prahlada in 2014. How cool is that?

Interestingly, the Narasimha form of Vishnu is quite popular in South India and in parts of Odisha but not in North India. It is quite plausible that the Narasimha form, like Jagannath, was originally a tribal deity that was later incorporated into Hinduism. The tribal deity must have originated in parts of Odisha and spread to the south.

The Simhachalam Temple must have existed during the reign of the Chola King, Kulottunga, because there is an inscription about him in the temple. The main shrine was built around the 13th century by a king of the East Ganga dynasty in Odisha. The central shrine has a distinctive Kalinga style of architecture like the Jagannath temple. Since the 16th century, the temple has enjoyed the patronage and support of the rulers of the Vijayanagaram dynasty in Andhra Pradesh. Many of the carvings in the temple have been mutilated allegedly by Muslim invaders. However, the central shrine has remained untouched.

We wait for Sakshi Gopal near the car park. He arrives and takes us inside the temple. The Simhachalam Temple is peaceful and serene. Unlike the Jagannath temple that faces east, the Simhachalam Temple faces west. It is believed that temples facing east bring auspiciousness and good luck whereas west facing temples bring you victory.

The temple is not crowded during our visit. We have good darshan of the deity. I wasn't a devotee of Narasimha before I met Babs. After I met him, I became curious about this form of Vishnu and learnt a hymn composed by Adi Shankara called Narasimha Karavalambam. As we go around the inner sanctum, I recite the hymn. The idol inside the temple is relatively small and is covered with sandalwood paste for most of the year. For 12 hours during the third lunar day of the bright half of the month of Vaishaka (April/May) called Akshaya Thrithiya, the idol can be seen without the sandalwood paste. About 100,000 people visit the temple on this day for what is known as 'Nijaroopa Darsanam.'

One of the attractions of the temple is a wish-fulfilling pillar called Kappasthambam. Many childless couples visit the temple to pray for a child. They are tied together around the pillar and a priest recites some mantras. This was probably a tribal custom that was later incorporated as a temple ritual. Jayashree and I are tied together as are Saro and Guna. Babs, of course, being single is tied by himself. I don't think any of us wished for a child.

We bid farewell to Sakshi Gopal and leave for Annavaram. It is a village on the banks of Pampa River in the East Godavari district of Andhra Pradesh. Pampa River flows all the way to Kerala. The Sabarimala Temple of Lord Ayyappa is on the banks of the Pampa River in Kerala. Annavaram is home to the temple of Satyanarayana, also known as Lord Veera Venkata Satyanarayana Swamy. The temple is located on top of a hill known as the Ratnagiri Hill. The temple is of recent origin. A small shrine probably was constructed in the 1890s. A permanent temple was constructed in the 1930s but was not properly maintained. The present temple was reconstructed in 2011-2012.

Raghunath has asked me to contact a person who is part of the administration of the temple. The main temple is at a higher level. At lower levels there are shrines of the village Goddess (Vana Durga) and Lord Rama. It is believed that Vana Durga guards the main temple. We have been instructed to meet our contact person at the administrative office next to the Vana Durga Temple. After we pray to the Goddess, we meet him in his office. The man is polite and courteous. He takes us to a guest room where we could have a wash. He sends us with another person to visit the main temple.

The main temple is constructed in the form of a chariot with the four wheels at each of the four corners. The deity is cylindrical and about 13 feet in height. It is divided into three parts. The base of the idol represents the Creator, Brahma, and the middle part represents Shiva. The top part is Vishnu. The shrine is on two floors. The ground floor contains the yantra (mystical diagram) and peetam (throne). Four deities - Ganesha, Surya, Shiva and Devi- are on the four sides of the yantra. Lord Satyanarayana, with Goddess Anantha Lakshmi on the right and Shiva on the left, is on the first floor. The idols are encased in gold.

Satyanarayana Vrata (fasting) is very popular with Hindus. It is a puja (worship) of Satyanarayana with a set of elaborate rituals. Babs has introduced this puja in his ashram in Chennai. It is performed on full moon days (pournami). Hundreds of people take part in the worship in his ashram. Usually the worship is offered jointly by married couples but single individuals can also do it. Jayashree and I participated in the puja when we visited Babs first in 2009. At his ashram, Babs has arranged the supply of necessary ingredients to all individuals performing the puja. At the end of the puja, there is a story recital, which is part of the worship. At the conclusion of the story recital, a special prasadam (food offering) is distributed. Jayashree and I were so taken up with this puja that we started to do it regularly on full moon days in New Zealand. The Satyanarayana puja is popular throughout India. One of the reasons for the popularity of the puja among Hindus is that it is believed to confer wealth, education, prosperity, children, relief from troubles, good health and business success.

The legend connected with the Satyanarayana puja is that once Sage Narada, who was highly distressed by the misery of worldly people, asked Lord Vishnu to suggest a way for people to get rid of their miseries. Lord Vishnu then told him that Satyanarayana puja would relieve men of their troubles and would ensure worldly prosperity and salvation after death. He also narrated the stories of a pious Brahmin of Kashi, who performed the puja first, and of King Ulkamukha of Bhadrasilanagaram, Emperor Tungadhwaja, and a community of Gollas in his kingdom, a Vaisya business man named Sadhu, and a poor woodcutter of Kashi. They all performed this puja and were blessed by Lord Satyanarayana (Vishnu himself).

My favourite is the story relating to the Vaisya businessman called Sadhu, who is quite a character. The story is as follows: A rich Vaisya couple Sadhu and Leelavathi have a daughter Kalavathi as a result of the vow taken to perform Satyanarayana puja. They get her married with great pomp to a worthy young man. Sadhu and his son-in-law flourish in business and amass great wealth by the grace of Lord Satyanarayana. But both Leelavathi and Sadhu forget to perform the Satyanarayana puja. Sadhu and his son-in-law go to Ratnasanapuram on the banks of a river and commence business there.

God decides to teach them a lesson as they forgot their vow of performing puja. One night, the treasury of the local king is looted. Sadhu and his son-in-law are imprisoned on suspicion, even though they are innocent. The mother and daughter become poor and destitute. They are forced to beg for food. While begging for food, Kalavathi witnesses Satyanarayana puja in a Brahmin's house and receives the Lord's prasadam. She tells her mother about the puja. Leelavathi then remembers her vow to perform the puja and decides to perform it immediately.

Lord Satyanarayana is pleased. Sadhu and his son-in-law are released from prison and all their confiscated wealth is returned to them by the king at the command of the Lord in a dream. They start back to their home in a boat. Lord Satyanarayana appears in the guise of an ascetic and asks Sadhu what he has on board. Sadhu ridicules him and tells him that he has only leaves on the boat. The Lord says 'So be it" and all the wealth in the boat is reduced to leaves. Sadhu begins to weep and wail. He is advised by his son-in-law to ask the ascetic for forgiveness. The ascetic reminds him that he had once again failed to perform the Satyanarayana puja. Realising who the ascetic is, Sadhu prays to Lord Satynarayana. He gets his wealth back and safely reaches the shores of his hometown. He sends word to this wife and daughter that they are arriving soon at the house. Leelavathi is happy to receive the news and hastens her daughter to finish Satyanarayana puja so that they could hurry to the riverbank to receive their husbands.

In their hurry, Kalavathi forgets to take the prasadam of Satyanarayana. When they reach the riverbank, they find that the boat with the son-in-law has disappeared. The Lord reveals that the catastrophe was the result of Kalavathi not eating His prasadam in her hurry to see her husband. Kalavathi rushes home, eats the prasadam and returns to the riverbank. She sees that her husband Ratnakara is safe. She tells him all about the Lord. According to the temple legend, Ratnakara is so impressed that he prays to the Lord and with His blessings is changed into Ratnagiri hill on which the Lord takes His permanent abode. It is believed that the Pampa River running by the hill is none other than Kalavathi, She melted with ecstasy at the grace of the Lord and her husband's achievement and began to flow as the Pampa River.

The prasadam of the Satyanarayana puja is obviously very special. It is delicious beyond belief. Here is the recipe for the prasadam, if you don't believe me: Heat one table spoon of ghee in a pan and fry cashew nuts until golden brown. Add raisins and as soon as they swell up and change colour, put them aside. Fry broken wheat in one table spoon of ghee in medium heat until it turns brown. Heat milk and water in another pan and bring them to boil. Add coarse wheat (Rava) and stir continuously. Stir the wheat until it is soft. The milk and water should be absorbed by the wheat (Rava) at this stage. At low heat, add jaggery, sugar, powdered cardamom and stir continuously until all the sugar and jaggery are dissolved. Add ghee to the mixture and stir continuously on low heat. When the water and milk are totally absorbed, and the ghee starts leaving the edges, switch off the heat. Garnish with fried cashew nuts and raisins. Cover and close it with a lid for about 30 minutes until it cools down.

I think Jayashree makes the finest Satyanarayana prasadam but, then, I may be biased. She adds chopped banana pieces to the Rava as a variation on the basic recipe. It tastes absolutely delicious. Unlike Kalavathi, we eat the prasadam before leaving the temple. We don't want our Ford Fiesta to disappear.

Vijayawada is about 350 kilometres on NH 5 from Annavaram. The Satyanarayana Temple is the last temple on our trip. We head back to Chennai after spending the night at Vijayawada. The drive to Vijayawada is uneventful. Babs tells us that he spent many days at the Satyanarayana Temple during his intense penance period of 1984-88. I look at his shaved head and beard and feel depressed. He is so earnest, sincere and completely good. Yet he got so badly treated by this world. He has suffered a great deal in his quest to experience divinity. Has it been a futile quest?

It is nearly 9 pm when we arrive at Hotel Southern Grand. I had asked Raghunath to book our accommodation. We check in and collect the keys from the Reception. We have dinner in the ground floor restaurant. Latha and Cheenu are not around and I feel very responsible for Babs. I take him to his room and make sure that he is comfortable. I discover that the young man bringing the bags to our rooms is from Chhattisgarh. I tell him that we have just visited his home state. He is thrilled. I ask him to ensure that Babs gets his morning coffee in time. He tells me that the restaurant doesn't open till 7 am but promises to get coffee from outside.

I feel upbeat. I have served the Lord in my own small way.

8. Coming Home

It is the morning of January 11, 2014. The youth from Chhattisgarh delivers our morning coffee in time. After a bath, we go to Babs' room for the morning homam. I see him seated next to the window. Saro is standing by his side. There is something different about him. His beard is gone. He is wearing the colourful t-shirt that Jayashree bought for him in New Zealand. Saro is applying some cream on his forehead. He looks cheerful and happy. I feel very happy for him. Babs is back. I don't want to tell him that the shaved head and beard didn't suit him. Can you imagine Krishna with a shaved head and beard? How weird would that be?

The previous night, I had gone over my sloppy accounts several times and managed to extract a statement of expenses for Babs. He asks me to read it out. I read out the major expenses, which is pretty much for the whole trip since it includes our hotel expenses for January 10th night. Before we reach Chennai, there are additional expenses like food, toll charges and diesel:

Hotel Accommodation Rs.45,483

Diesel Rs.16,877

Two new tyres Rs.8,300

Food Rs.5,636

Toll Charges Rs.2,026

Total Rs.78,322

Babs is satisfied with my account keeping. I heave a sigh of relief. I am terrible with money and Babs is very meticulous about money. We are on the opposite ends of the money spectrum. He is also a master of unitary costs. According to Babs, it should cost Rs.3 - 4 per kilometre per person, including all expenses, if we borrow a car and travel in India as a group. We are likely to cover around 5,000 kilometres, which works out to Rs.15,000 - 16,000 per person for the whole trip. This is around NZ$350 each for Jayashree and me for a ten-day trip including accommodation, food and fuel. It is ridiculously cheap. I offer to pay our share in Chennai. Babs is feeling expansive. He dismisses my offer. He tells me that it is not necessary for us to pay since we have come all the way from overseas just to see him. I feel overwhelmed by his generosity. He has just gifted us a wonderful ten-day trip, fulfilled Jayashree's desire to see Kashi and given us an astonishing spiritual experience at the Kashi Vishwanath Temple.

I get a text message from Latha. She tells me that their car repair needed some special part that was initially not available in Brahmapur but miraculously the part arrived from somewhere and their Renault has been fixed. They have left the hotel and are on their way back to Kanpur. Babs asks me to text her: 'You are good people. Only good things will happen to you.' Babs performs his homam, Jayashree sings and we all pack up, ready to check out. I settle the accounts at the Reception and collect the receipt. We have breakfast in the restaurant on the ground floor. Guna and I load the bags in the car. We are all set to leave for Chennai.

Guna drives out of the city and connects with NH 5. After our travels through Chhattisgarh and Jharkhand, NH 5 seems like the autobahn in Europe. Everything in life is relative. We plan to stop at Nellore for lunch. The traffic on NH 5 seems unusually heavy and it is moving rather slowly. As we approach a toll gate, the traffic comes to a complete standstill. After waiting for a while, we realise that the traffic is probably not going to move at all. Our enquiries reveal that the stoppage is a result of a strike by auto-rickshaw drivers. We wait there for what seems a very long time. Of course, in India nothing stands still for ever. A few enterprising car and truck drivers have figured out a way to sneak out of the traffic jam. Babs asks Guna to follow them. Guna, who is not used to driving under such conditions, is initially hesitant. Babs goads him to sneak into the gaps and virtually guides him out of the traffic jam. We are moving again but we are behind schedule due to the traffic stoppage.

As we drive to Chennai, I reflect on my experiences and emotions. For me the trip has been a roller coaster ride of emotional ups and downs. My predominant feeling is one of disappointment. I am particularly disappointed with the way in which Babs has been treated both by people at large and by those around him. Ever since I met him for the first time, all I have ever wanted is for him to wildly succeed beyond all imagination in his spiritual mission. While I can understand and even empathise with his decision to leave everything and become a wandering ascetic in North India, it bothers me a great deal. As I reflect on it, I realise that I have no idea why Babs means so much to me. It is bafflingly inexplicable.

It is beyond lunch time when we arrive at Nellore. We also lose our way in the city trying to find the restaurant where we had lunch earlier when we were driving towards Vijayawada. By asking around, we manage to reach the place only to find that it is fully occupied. While Guna parks the car in front of the restaurant, we locate an alternative vegetarian restaurant close by. Babs usually prefers not to eat in a multi-cuisine restaurant, which are plentiful in Nellore. The food is reasonably good although I miss the homely buxom Andhra women in the other restaurant. One of the things you learn while travelling with Babs is not to linger anywhere. We finish lunch quickly and I make sure that I get the bill for payment before everyone finishes. I pay for the lunch as others are about to leave. We walk back to the car park and discover that someone has bumped into the Ford Fiesta. It has a big dent in the front fender on the driver's side. Guna is mortified. He suspects that it is the person parked next to him earlier but he is no longer there. The watchman, who is supposed to look after the parked cars, is of no help. He and some others come and peer at the dent helplessly.

As we drive back to Chennai, Guna and I agree that the Ford Fiesta has been subjected to severe punishment during our trip. I remark that I wouldn't want to be borrowing the car from Ravi after returning the car in this condition. I feel he might throw stones at us. Guna agrees but Babs is genuinely surprised. "Why?" he asks innocently, "We are giving him two new tyres." Guna and I look at him in disbelief. We don't know whether to laugh or cry. I feel that the two new tyres, which are probably not so new anymore, are all that he is getting back.

Babs is in an upbeat, reminiscent mood. He tells us about his love life before he got married. This is something completely new that he has never mentioned before. Babs apparently was in love with a girl, who was from a Christian family. The girl wanted to marry him but her father insisted that Babs convert to Christianity. This was well before Babs turned spiritual. Babs told the father that he was willing to get married in a church but was not prepared to convert to Christianity. Regrettably, due to this obstacle, their romantic love did not find fruition in marriage. Babs settled for an arranged marriage. Several years later, after they were married to different partners and had children, Babs and the lady, accompanied by their children, met in a cafe. In my already depressed state, I find this more depressing. I wonder how things would have turned out if they had got married. Babs would probably have become a very successful businessman, movie actor, director, producer and politician because he is so multi-talented. He would have probably written Tamil poetry, novels and short stories. He may not have turned to spirituality and God, in which case, I may have never met him. That depresses me so much that I feel very happy that he didn't get married to the Christian lady. I am grateful to her father.

I reflect on why I feel so strongly about someone that I barely knew a few years earlier. Babs says that it is because of soul connection. My spirit and his spirit have known each other before we met physically in this lifetime. I believe him although I am unable to verify it from my experience. I like Babs, not because he is multi-talented and tells rude jokes. I like him because he is the only person I have met in this world who has consistently stood by me in the short time that I have known him. I have experienced nothing but generosity, kindness and affection from him. I like his innocence, integrity, and simplicity. I like him because he believes in me, even when I don't believe in myself. Above all, I like him because he is like me. He is what I would be if I was fully evolved and reached my full potential. He is my journey and my destination.

Guna has turned on the radio in the car. As we come close to Chennai, we are greeted by Radiocity 91.1FM over the air and Blue Star Biriyani on the roadside. Inside the city, the traffic is terrible. Of course, Guna is now a veteran of edging into gaps in the traffic. Slowly but surely, we inch forward and speed up wherever possible. Before getting into the road that leads to the ashram, Guna stops the car at a service station and gets the tank filled with diesel. It is nearly 8 pm when we reach Ramarajya. Guna tells me that we have travelled 4,780 kilometres since the morning of January 2 when we left Chennai.

Coincidentally, the date of our return, January 11, 2014 is Vaikunta Ekadasi. It is the 11th day of the bright lunar month during December/January every year. It is considered very auspicious and usually pious Hindus fast during this day. The conversation between Arjuna and Krishna that is now known as the Bhagavad Gita is said to have happened on this day. Vaikunta Ekadasi is especially significant for the devotees of Vishnu. In his ashram, people are waiting expectantly for Babs to come to the Murugan Temple inside the block of apartments known as Palani Garden. After a quick wash and change of clothes, Babs is there at the temple. As we join him, I feel sorry for him. All of us are feeling pretty exhausted after driving nearly 4,800 kilometres in ten days through very difficult terrain. But people in the ashram expect Babs to be available and present for their ceremonies. It strikes me as particularly insensitive. Babs, of course, is as cheerful as ever. He doesn't show any signs of exhaustion or irritation. After a brief temple ceremony, we eat dinner in the adjoining hall.

Guna and I hand the car back to Ravi with some trepidation. He seems unconcerned about the dent. He wants to pay me immediately for the two additional tyres. I tell him that I can't take any money unless Babs permits it. But his whole family is there and they insist on paying. He thrusts the currency notes in my hands, which I reluctantly accept. I feel bad about taking money from him, especially after trashing his car in the 4,800 kilometre road trip. I tell him that it is a good car. I am being honest. The Ford Fiesta has performed successfully under severe driving conditions. You can't go wrong with that car.

We adjourn to the main Pooranabrahmam Temple inside Ramarajya. The evening satsangh (spiritual discourse or sacred gathering) is held there. Babs sits on a decorated swing. People sit on the floor in front of him or on the steps of the main hall in front of the temple. I sit on the steps so that I can lean against the wall of the hall. Babs asks me to come to the front. He asks someone to get a chair for me. Babs tells the audience that I would be writing another book based on the trip we have completed. He garlands me and asks me to speak about the trip. I am, once again, overwhelmed by his love and kindness.

I talk about the trip briefly describing the places we visited and the conditions of travel. I tell them that my most enduring memory of the trip was Babs checking out hotels in Baripada at 11 pm just to make sure that we spend the night in comfortable rooms. I praise Guna for driving nearly 5,000 kilometres under difficult conditions. I tell them that the book would be partly about spirituality, partly about India and partly about travel. I don't tell them how disappointed Babs was with the people in the ashram when we started our trip. I don't tell them how disappointed I am at the end of the trip, either.

I am disappointed with India and I am disappointed for Babs. In a sense, they are related. 21st century India is a huge disappointment. 66 years after independence, India can't build decent roads. Government services are riddled with corruption. India has aspirations to be a super power but half of its population does not have access to closed toilets and defecate in the open. China, which was at the same level of development or underdevelopment as India in 1947, has leapfrogged to become a genuine super power. It is a matter of shame that India imports its Ganesha idols from China now.

India has largely remained where it was. A majority of its people are still poor. The only difference is that majority of people in India now are also young. Since liberalisation in 1991, many Indians are under the illusion that the country has progressed significantly. It is true that there are more cars, mobile phones and computers now. But cars, mobile phones and computers do not constitute development. There is a veneer of Westernisation and a thin slice of the population has amassed vast amounts of wealth, not due to hard work or innovation, but because of connections and corruption. Inequality has increased. Despite its much vaunted IT industry, India hasn't produced a Microsoft, Apple, Google or even Facebook. The Indian IT companies, focused on cost leadership, seem to be intent on creating an army of cyber-coolies.

The main problem is that 21st century India is mired in 19th century attitudes and mind-sets. Indians have embraced Western consumerism but not its protestant ethic of hard work and respect for rule of law. If you visit or live in one of the four metropolitan cities like Mumbai, Delhi, Kolkatta or Chennai, you would have no understanding of India. The real India lies beyond these large and smaller cities. Both Chhattisgarh and Jharkhand account for most of the trillions of dollars of mineral wealth of India yet the native population in these states is dirt poor.

Youth and poverty make a lethal combination. Is it surprising that these two states are the vortex of Maoist insurgency in India? For the majority in India, education is the only passport to social mobility and better life. But the educational system is broken. Less than ten percent of the graduates from Indian universities are employable. The educational curriculum emphasises bookish knowledge and ignores practical skills.

The tragedy of India is its vast unrealised potential. It has so many talented intellectuals, social activists, artists, writers and creative people, yet everyone feels helpless to do anything. There is abundant enthusiasm and energy among the youth, who are looking for ideals and guidance. The post-independence generation in India has failed them. The political, administrative and business elite form an entrenched coalition of vested interests that has unleashed a tsunami of selfishness, venality, greed, jealousy, narrow mindedness, sloth, apathy, indifference and laziness in the last 66 years.

Fortunately, during our travel I sensed that there is a growing clamour for change. As I write these lines, the ruling Congress government of previous years has almost been wiped out. The electorate has handed Narendra Modi an astounding mandate for radical change. There are enormous expectations that he will somehow undo all the damage that was done in previous years and lead India into a brighter future. I don't know whether he would be able to fulfil these expectations. I pray to God that he is able to deliver on his promises. Arvind Kejriwal, Rahul Gandhi or Narendra Modi cannot change a vast country like India by themselves. The problem in India is that everyone wants others to change. India will become a super power the day every citizen of India decides to change his or her attitudes, values and behaviour. When that happens, the government will be redundant.

I think at India as at a crossroads today. The educated elite in India want the Western lifestyle, without making the sacrifices that the elite in the West have made. They want uninterrupted electricity, fuel, water and gas. They desire faster trains, cleaner cities, decent roads, more housing, shopping malls and fast Internet access. They also want less corruption, access to better education for their children, cheaper bank loans and ability to travel overseas. There is no serious debate in India about how to achieve all these. Mindlessly, India has embraced the logic of free market capitalism that depends on increasing consumption to fuel economic growth. No one wants to talk about the trade-offs - how much pollution, inequality and breakdown in family life are we willing to tolerate in return for what we want?

The real indicator of growth for a country is the extent to which the country is cultured and civilised. For me, the illiterate gardener that we met on our way to Allahabad from Rewa, who was willing to give up higher earnings so that he could take care of his aged parents, is more civilised and cultured than any educated, wine-drinking, middle-class person in a metropolitan city. I think education is over-rated. If it doesn't develop human values of compassion and altruism, it is largely a waste of time.

Ancient Indians emphasised human values of Sathya (Truth), Dharma (Right Conduct), Prema (Love) and Shanthi (Peace) as real markers of growth and development. They emphasised reverence - for nature, truth, and right conduct. They promoted the virtues of peace and unconditional love, defined as caring and sharing. None of the ideals and values exists in India today. Fear and greed seem to be driving forces. Competitive individualism has replaced a community orientation. India has polluted all its sacred rivers, degraded its hills and forests and made the air unbreathable in the cities. You have to buy distilled water to survive on a daily basis. The ideal of living in harmony with nature and with each other is long gone. You can read about these ideals, values and philosophy in books but you would have no idea how to practice them. You will have only bookish knowledge unless you put these into practice.

A spiritual guide like Siva Shankar Baba embodies the wisdom tradition of ancient India. He has no personal needs or wants. He is here to help others and show the way back to the spiritual roots of India. But he is also thoroughly modern. He has condensed the ancient wisdom tradition of India into a practical guideline relevant for the 21st century: Don't hurt others; if possible, help them. In addition, he says: don't do anything that would hurt you in the long run, either physically or emotionally.

All the prayers in ancient India were expressions of adoration or gratitude to nature. However, when we recite these hymns today, we are largely ignorant of the underlying sentiment of reverence for nature. Baba says that it more important to develop an attitude of prayerfulness. Prayer is usually confined to a few minutes inside a temple or in our homes but prayerfulness is being in touch with divinity continuously. Divinity, however, is not someone in the skies. It is the goodness inside you.

Baba exemplifies this. He is honest, truthful and straight-forward. He doesn't hurt anyone. He doesn't depend on anyone. He doesn't discriminate against anyone. This makes his whole life prayerful. It is an adoration and respect for truth, righteousness and all living and non-living entities in the environment.

Baba's main mission is obviously to promote spirituality. He is really not here to help you get married, have children, and be wealthy and successful. His mission is to make your life prayerful by helping you give up selfishness, jealousy, hatred, pride and narrow-mindedness so that you are filled with reverence for God. But this God is not the entity or being that you have seen in pictures, temples and calendars. God is another name for nature, truth, right conduct, love, peace and non-violence. God is a quality, not a person. God is just the quality of goodness.

Siva Shankar Baba is not just a do-gooder, who takes people to visit temples. He is a genuine mystic, who has gone to greater heights than any other spiritualist in India today. His conception of God makes a great deal of sense to me. We think of God as some supernatural being somewhere in the skies. No one has met this entity. It is only in our imagination. We should instead be talking about godliness, which is a quality. We think that God is in temples but these temples are of recent origin. They are man-made. The cult of Jagannath illustrates this. There is little doubt that Jagannath was originally a tribal deity that probably had a Buddhist origin. It seems to have been assimilated first by the Jains and then by various Hindu sects. Worshippers of Vishnu, Shiva and Shankti (Goddess) have all incorporated their rituals, practises and icons into the worship of Jagannath. Worshippers of Vishnu originally regarded Jagannath as Vishnu. With the emergence of the Krishna cult, Jagannath was transformed into Krishna. The two other idols are Krishna's brother Balarama and their sister Subadhra, which were probably added later. Worshippers of Shiva view Balabhadra as Shiva. They claim that the original idol of Jagannath was a Shiva Linga.

Followers of the Goddess (Shakti) identify Jagannath with Mahabhairav. The Jagannath idol sits on the Sri Yantra (holy instrument) or Sri Chakra (holy wheel) and is worshipped with the Bijamantra 'Klim', which is also the Bijamantra of Kali or Shakti. For them, the third deity, Devi Subhadra, represents the Shakti element and is still worshipped with the Bhuvaneshwari Mantra. Tantric worship of the Goddess is common in Eastern part of India. According to Tantric texts, Jagannath is Bhairav, and Goddess Vimala is the Shakti. The offerings to Jagannath become Mahaprasad only after it is re-offered to Goddess Vimala. Similarly, different Tantric features of Yantras have been engraved on the Ratna vedi, where Jagannath, Balabhadra and Devi Subhadra are set up. The Kalika Purana depicts Jagannath as a Tantric deity. When Jagannath is worshipped with only his face depicted, he is referred to as Patita Pavana (Saviour of the fallen souls). There are various legends associated with Patita Pavana in which Jagannath is the saviour of people who were either Muslims or converted to Islam but were yearning for a vision of the Lord of the World.

Who is Jagannath, really? Is he a tribal deity, a tantric deity, the Buddha, a Jain Thirthankara, Vishnu, Shiva, Kali or Krishna? He is all of those and none of those. As God, He cannot be limited to one or even more than one form. Siva Shankar Baba provides a clue to the real nature of Jagannath. He says that worshipping God as Neel Madhav is the true Jagannath cult. Most people believe Neel Madhav to be another name of Krishna. In the Krishna iconography, he is depicted with either dark blue skin or with blue eyes. The mistake, Baba says, is seeing Krishna as a person with a human form. According to Baba, Krishna is not the Yadava King depicted in Mahabharata but a form of consciousness. In fact, Krishna represents the highest form of spiritual consciousness. The Krishna consciousness is visually represented by a blue pearl or blue light. The mantra Om is associated with Krishna consciousness. Neel Madhav is the blue pearl or Krishna consciousness. In Odisha, it is referred to as Neel Madhav. In Kashi, it was called Bindu Madhav. The correct name for Krishna consciousness is Neel Bindu Madhav. Babs says that reaching this Krishna consciousness is the goal of spirituality. The Jagannath deity reminds us that what we seek outside is actually within us. The wooden idol is not as important as what lies inside it.

According to siddhas, yogis and tantrics of India, the human body has seven spiritual centres called chakras. They are usually depicted as circles starting from the base of the spine and ascending to the top of head. The first five chakras represent the five elements - earth, water, fire, air and ether. The sixth represents the seat of the mind and the seventh chakra corresponding to the top of the head represents Shiva, the highest level of consciousness. According to the wisdom tradition of India, the goal of human life is to unite the life force called prana with Shiva in the seventh chakra. When that happens the seeker perceives a pulsating blue pearl sheathed in a golden halo. It is also referred to as opening the third eye. The seeker becomes one with which is sought and becomes enlightened. Yoga is the uniting of the individual prana with Shiva, not performing impossible contortions wearing coloured yoga pants. You need to learn a particular type of breathing for uniting the prana with Shiva or piercing the seventh chakra.

Siva Shankar Baba says that, in the history of mankind, there is no recorded instance of anyone actually meeting God face-to-face. He says that God is not an entity or being somewhere in the skies. Most of us have only an imaginary concept of God based on what we have seen in pictures, calendars and movies. But God has no particular form. God is the energy that pervades the entire universe. You can only experience this energy, not see it. Baba says that you can only experience God inside you. If you are able to still your mind and get rid of your thoughts, you can experience God. He says that this is impossible for most ordinary people. You can't control your mind and empty it of thoughts unless you work out all your karmas or the consequences of your past actions. Visiting temples and praying there is the first step in working out your karmas. God will not cancel your karma but can reduce the intensity of your suffering based on your good deeds.

Baba says that visiting temples is beneficial because each temple in India has certain types of divine energy stored in it. This energy gets depleted over a 12-year period and needs to be replenished through special rituals. Babs says that there are nine types of basic energies that are present singly or in combination in different temples. Although these are called planetary energies, they should not be confused with the physical planets of the solar system. They are called Sun (Surya), Moon (Chandra), Mercury (Budha), Mars (Mangal), Venus (Shukra), Jupiter (Guru), Saturn (Shani), Rahu and Ketu. These nine divine energies determine the consequences of our past actions. According to Baba, they determine, among other things, our career, lifestyle, health and intelligence. If you are deficient in one of these energies, going to a temple that has that particular energy will help you.

Baba says that spirituality follows the laws of physics - energy flows from a higher level to a lower level. Baba has reached Krishna consciousness and his third eye has opened. He can see stuff that you and I can't see. He can identify the specific divine energies in the temples that he visits. According to him, the energy at the Kashi Vishwanath Temple is a combination of Jupiter and Saturn. The energy at the Kanaka Durga Temple in Vijayawada is a combination of the energies of Jupiter and Rahu. The energy at the Vishnupad Temple in Gaya is that of Saturn. The energy at the Puri Jagannath Temple, on the other hand, is a combination of energies of Mercury and Mars. The Simhachalam Temple has the energy of Saturn. The Sathyanarayana Temple at Annavaram has the energies of Moon, Mercury, Venus and Saturn. The Balaji temple at Tirupathi is considered the most powerful in India. According to Baba, energy there is the combination of all the nine divine energies. The energy at the Pooranabrahmam Temple in Ramarajya is also a combination of the nine divine energies. Praying at the Pooranabrahmam Temple has the effect as praying at the Tirupathi Balaji Temple. Baba says that Vishnu is usually associated with the Mercury energy and confers good luck. However, Vishnu can also be associated with Saturn, which is the energy for liberation.

Beyond the rituals that you can see in temples, there is a mystical dimension of spiritual energy. This is beyond our senses and intellect. We cannot perceive it or experience it. Someone who has performed severe austerities and penance can experience these energies. You have to reach Krishna consciousness or have your third eye opened for perceiving these energies. According to Baba, these energies were originally people like you and me that have evolved to higher levels. Each of the nine planetary energies is a siddha. Collectively, they are called navanatha siddhas. They are the closest to divinity, which is the totality of everything. The powers and energies that these siddhas have been bestowed are only to be used for the welfare of mankind. If you attain spiritual powers and start using them to fulfil your own desires, then you will become a Ravana or a Hiranyakaśipu. Then God will have to appear as Rama or Narasimha to slay you. Most of us have no experience or understanding of these mystical energies. One way to acquire these energies is to develop godliness.

What is godliness? Baba says that being 100 percent good is godliness. If you live a life of love and selfless service, you acquire godliness and someone will worship you as God one day. This is also the message of Sanathan Dharma: Be good, do good and goodness will follow. If you lead a life of godliness, you don't need to visit temples, chant mantras, perform rituals or engage in meditation. If you are constantly saturated in godliness, your whole life will become meditation, prayer and penance. Not only that, your life will also become a celebration. This is the beautiful philosophy of Siva Shankar Baba.

In ancient India, a godly person was called a sadhu. A sadhu is not someone who has shaved his head, grown a beard, wears a saffron robe along with beads and coloured threads. A sadhu is a human being like you and me, except that he is 100 percent good. Sadhu is an internal quality not the external attire. Siva Shankar Baba is a sadhu. It is sadhus like Siva Shankar Baba that make a place sacred. Places like Kashi, Gaya and Puri are sacred because a large number of sadhus lived there. It is their godliness that is the source of the spiritual energy in these places. We benefit from this spiritual energy today because they chose to live a life of godliness. That is the reason they were so highly revered in ancient India. A Buddha, Mahavira, Kabir and Guru Nanak are remembered even today. Do you remember any of the emperors and kings that lived during the same times as these people? We build temples for Sai Baba of Shirdi, who lived in an obscure village in Maharashtra. Do you know the names of the chief ministers of Maharashtra? Sanathan Dharma teaches us that a sadhu is equivalent to God because he or she is imbued with godliness. Buddha never talked about God yet we treat him on par with God because he had acquired godliness.

Wisdom traditions of India teach us that the height of culture and civilisation of a society can be gauged by how that society treats its sadhus and women. On both those counts, India has failed to live up to ideals of Sanathan Dharma. A true sadhu like Siva Shankar Baba is treated like dirt. In the last 26 years, he has helped more than 5 million people. Less than 5,000 have expressed any kind of gratitude. Fake sadhus in India enjoy a celebrity status, along with cricket players, movie actors and porn stars.

One of the worst aspects of how far India has fallen is the growing violence against women. It is not safe to be a woman in India. Women do not enjoy the same freedom of movement as men. Women are assaulted, raped, burnt, abused, and trafficked to the accompaniment of a lot of helpless hand-wringing from government officials, police and the public. The main message of the Hindu epics of Ramayana and Mahabharatha is about the consequences of showing disrespect to women. The entire clan of Ravana and all the Kaurava brothers perished as a consequence. While we are ready to die for building a temple for Ram in his birthplace, we are not ready to die to promote his ideals. In short, false values and hypocrisy have taken us away from our roots of Sanathan Dharma.

Be good and do good sounds easy and simple. It is not easy to practice it. You will soon discover that you are trying to be a straight person in a crooked world. People will think that you are a simpleton or a fool. You will be ridiculed for not knowing the ways of the world, which is to get ahead by any means. In a crooked world, people lack integrity. Their thoughts, words and deeds are not aligned. Selfishness and deception reign supreme. People are two-faced because they have learnt that material success requires you to conceal your real feelings and opinions from other people. Being good and doing good is lot of hard work for no material returns. Sustaining such behaviour requires enormous faith and courage. This is not a path for the weak-willed or the faint-hearted. It is a constant struggle to maintain your integrity in a false world. Why should you do it? Why not be like everyone else?

Siva Shankar Baba says that all of us have a universal need to experience joy. Whatever we do has the ultimate aim of experiencing joy. We seek joy in the external world - in food, sex, occupation, wealth, entertainment, friendship, marriage, family and children. However, the external world is illusory in the sense that it seems to promise joy but only delivers misery. The more you pursue joy outside, the more entangled you get.

Baba says that God is only energy with no mind of its own. It manifests in you as your intellect. If you use this intellect, you will soon realise that life is nothing but a series of entanglements. Human life is a prison. School is a prison; so are college and university. Marriage is a prison.Your family is another kind of prison as is your place of work. From the time you wake up to the time you go to sleep, you are constantly being manipulated by your friends, family, school, college, university, advertising, and media to think and live in a certain way. In reality, you are a slave with no mind of your own. You think you are free but you are not. You had no choice in being born. You have no choice in terms of what is happening to you. You will have no choice about the timing and manner of your death. Really, nothing is within your control. All your attitudes, values and mind-sets have been brainwashed into you. You are never going to find real everlasting joy in a prison, although you will experience momentary pleasures. Real joy is only possible if you escape from this prison. It is called moksha or liberation. How do you get liberated?

If you only have bookish knowledge of all this, you will think that liberation requires become an ascetic, going to a forest and being immersed in deep meditation. While this was true in ancient India, it doesn't suit people in 21st century India. But Siva Shankar Baba provides the perfect recipe for present times. He says renunciation is not giving up or adding anything. It is simply living the life that you have been given. In other words, calmly accept whatever you experience in your life without getting depressed or elated. Accept whatever life throws at you, both good and bad, without aspiring for anything. Aspirations are entanglement. It does not mean that we should be passive. We should be active and do whatever we are required to do with utmost sincerity and enthusiasm. If you combine this with the earlier advice of not hurting yourself or others, you are on a spiritual path. In other words, remain straight in a crooked world and cheerfully accept whatever life throws at you. If you are able to do this, you will also acquire godliness. Someone, somewhere, someday will worship you as God. They might garland your photo or statue, light incense sticks, wave lighted camphor in front of it and and pray to you for marriage partners, children, automobiles, promotion, four-bedroom house, successful litigation and a good sex life. You might even reach Krishna consciousness one day and be called Baba or Babs.

Organised religions can not take you to God. They are, however, a good starting point. Sooner or later, you will have to abandon them. Any religion that advocates or tolerates discrimination of other human beings, glorifies violence or restricts the freedom of women can not take you to the Kingdom of God. Any religion that claims that God can only be found in its scriptures has no idea what God is. All the religions of the world, with the exception of Hinduism, were founded by individuals like you and me, who elevated themselves to divinity through their nobility and good conduct. Unless you fashion your life on them, you will not reach God. Blind belief and mindless quoting of scriptures will not take you anywhere close to God.

God does not discriminate between good and bad. The author of the Hindu epic Ramayana was a bandit. Tulsidas, the author of the Hindi version called Ramcharithmanas, was filled with lust. Yet God considered them worthy to be the authors of Ramayana. God is not interested in your wealth, status, religion, caste or gender. He is only concerned with your conduct. If your conduct is soaked in godliness, you become dearer to God.Spirituality is not about prayer, meditation, rituals and temples. It is about developing godliness and prayerfulness. How do you do this in today's frenzied, mad world where self-ineterest and deception are the reigning gods?

The practical teachings of Siva Shankar Baba might show the way. He says: Bring back reverence for the environment and people; Be honest and straight-forward; Follow the law; Don't discriminate against anyone on the basis of age, gender, caste or religion; Learn to live with reverence and adoration for the world; Do your duty with sincerity and enthusiasm and let others do their duty; Don't hurt anyone; be loving and kind, if possible help others; Treat women as human beings, not sex objects; Don't expect the government to solve your problems. Finally, celebrate life. How hard is that?

Of course, it is very hard. It is so challenging that you would want to quickly run away into worldly life. You have a choice. You can break out of the prison of life and live every moment mindfully without getting attached to the world but being reverential to it or you can go back to your prison and continue your cycles of births and deaths endlessly. The choice is yours. God does not interfere in your freedom to choose your life. But all choices have consequences.

Anu, about whom I mentioned in the second chapter, seems to have made the right choices. Here is an excerpt from a recent letter that she wrote to Baba:

Dear Baba, my God, How are You?  
I wanted to share my reflection on this year 2014, with You. Baba, when we traveled together to Cairns, Brisbane in Australia in 2010, You predicted, after a mere glance at my horoscope, that 2014 will be a tough year for me. You asked me to visit Tirupathi. I chose not to, because You are my only God and I decided to face this year, with You by my side. On reflection this has been a challenging year at many levels, but I am very much "overwhelmed" by how much of an impactful change this year has brought for me in a positive way.  
1. I feel like a different person (on the inside) - the way I think, approach, prioritise, my outlook towards and how I live life has changed significantly, for the better.  
2. I have been writing books on You this entire year - it has been my constant source of energy, guiding light and praana.  
3. I am almost always listening to Your voice and the Shankaram Shiva Shankaram mantra. It's an addiction and I am mesmerised by You.  
4. Your Murugan energy has taken over me with abundance of love converting me into a vegetarian, a focused yoga practitioner and courage to overcome most fears, that I have had all my life.  
5. I stepped back from work, cutting down a day of work, stepping away from leadership opportunities, and refusing to play the corporate politics. However, interestingly my career has flourished despite this - as an example, my company did not meet their financial targets for this year with pay cuts across the organisation. However You blessed me with bonuses and pay rise worth $40K AUD.  
6. I realise Your spiritual heights better and better by the day and I am dumbfounded at how humble and unassuming You are.  
I hope after wasting 35 years of my life, I have finally started to tread the right path with Your will. I am very overwhelmed and I constantly weep for only one reason - my gratefulness to and love for You, my God.

I don't know what this all means. Can You please help me understand?   
Thank You, with all my heart.  
Love  
Anu

Baba is a wayfarer – floating like a log in the river of life, having fully surrendered to the divinity within. He is not disadvantaged in any way. He lives a good life. He watches movies. He reads books. He has seen more places in this world than most people. Life is a celebration for him because he has mastered the art of living by learning from his own experiences. It is not based on bookish knowledge. He doesn't preach about how to live. He doesn't conduct training programmes or meditation classes. He hasn't franchised his organisation. He doesn't want your money, your help or support. He doesn't want you to be his devotee or follower. He is a daredevil. Can you borrow a car and travel 4,800 kilometres in India without a cell phone, relying on people who have not driven much in India? He can do that. So there must be something right about his way of living.

He wants you to wake up and realise that you are in a prison. He wants you to become a wayfarer like him, if you have made the choice of wanting liberation. .

If Siva Shankar Baba can do it, so can you.

Why not try? He is always willing to help. He may even take you on a road trip one day.

The rest will take care of itself.

This is what I have learnt after travelling 4,800 kilometres in India in a borrowed Ford Fiesta with a spiritual freak who doesn't even own a mobile phone; that life has no meaning – it is just a series of experiences to help us discover ourselves. We are all wayfarers like Siva Shankar Baba.

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About the Author

Venkataraman Nilakant teaches Management at the University of Canterbury in Christchurch, New Zealand. He has a Ph. D. in Organizational Behavior from the Case Western Reserve University in the United States. He completed a Master of Science degree in Chemistry from the Indian Institute of technology, Kanpur and also obtained a qualification in Business Administration from the Indian Institute of Management in Calcutta. His wife Jayashree is a medical doctor. He is also interested in photography and science fiction.

Other books by this author

Please check out other books by Venkataraman Nilakant on the same theme:

Close Encounters

Seriously Searching Shiva

Mahaan

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