To the Land of my Guru: Pilgrimage to the Himalayas

The characteristic features of Indian culture have long been a search for ultimate verities and the concomitant disciple-guru relationship…Though India possesses a civilization more ancient than that of any other country, few historians have noted that her feat of survival is by no means an accident, but a logical incident in the record of devotion to the eternal verities that India has offered through her best men to every generation.

Autobiography of a Yogi

I cannot count the number of times I have urged friends and students to partake of Yogananda's timeless Autobiography. Often have I recounted how that book transformed my life.

After I devoted myself to his kriya yoga, worldly burdens and desires began to fall away. But one desire, implanted upon my first reading of Autobiography of a Yogi in 1988, remained and enlarged over the years: to make a pilgrimage to the holy land of my guru's birth, which he described so tantalizingly it became irresistible. With each rereading, the conviction grew: that my physical presence in India would mark a milestone in my spiritual journey.

Wandering day after day over the Holy Land, I was more than ever convinced of the value of pilgrimage.

That desire to visit India with fellow kriyabans was finally fulfilled last September, when I joined 30 members of Swami Kriyananda's Ananda community for an unforgettable journey to the storied Himalayas, those breathtaking mountains which beckoned Yognanda as he doggedly pursued his singular goal: to find God.

Now it was my turn to experience the treasures of India. After 19 years of fantasizing about it, I was finally being given the great privilege of experiencing the land of rishis firsthand-not as a tourist merely seeing the sights, but as a true pilgrim, joyously entering into divine fellowship with others whose love of God and guru matched my own.

I am very grateful that I passed up previous opportunities to visit India on cultural exchanges, suppressing my usual impatience until the trip of my dreams materialized. How fortunate I felt when the last available spot on the Ananda tour fell to me: an auspicious omen, surely!

When I began receiving emails weeks ahead of departure from tour leaders Keshava Taylor and his wife Daya of Ananda India, I knew I would be in good hands. Not only did they give details of our itinerary- Rishikesh, Badrinath, Devprayag and several holy shrines-they offered useful advice for adjusting to India, its customs, food, climate, roads, etc. They and their able co-leaders, Durga and Vidura Smallen, are to be commended for their thorough preparations that made this an unforgettably rich and precious experience for me and each of the others, half westerners and half Indians. In contrast to other situations in which strangers are thrown together, our little band got along so harmoniously, it seemed as if we had known and loved one another for years. The natives were especially accommodating to us “foreigners.”

Before heading north, we were treated to two unforgettable days at Ananda's palatial ashram in Gurgaon, outside Delhi, which was celebrating Kriyananda's 60th year of discipleship. I was transported by the chanting, moving discourse and discipleship vows at the morning puja, where I was captivated by one of the most angelic human beings I have ever seen: Brahmacharya Nirmala's ageless face fairly glowed with the radiance of divine love, her sweet voice a melodious tribute to our Master's teachings.

That night, the nearby community center was covered in garlands and silks to honor Swami Kriyanada, who gave a stirring talk about his remarkable journey and the great truths Yogananda had taught him. Amidst great revelry, the consummate disciple presented each of us with his just-completed supplement to his Bhagavad Gita commentaries.

Memorable as these Ananda events were, they were mere prelude to the wonders that awaited us to the north.

Baptism in the Ganges

A train carried us to Hardiwar, where we transferred to eight sturdy jeeps flying orange flags that would take us the rest of the way. The land grew ever more mountainous as our skilled drivers negotiated curvy, congested (sometimes washed-out) roads. It was nearly sunset when we arrived at the picturesque mountain village of Devprayag, where the Bhagirathi and Alaknanda Rivers meet to form the Ganges. This marked the site of “baptism.”

Happily crossing the footbridge, where a friendly tan cow nuzzled me, we ambled along the opposite banks by the gorgeous, swiftly flowing waters, thence down concrete steps into the actual confluence, enclosed by floating metal railings. Durga began chanting “Lord I am thine” to harmonium accompaniment, and soon had us all singing along as we entered the chilly water. Dhoti-clad priests recited incantations and blessings, as we allowed the sacred waters to work their magic.