By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
BABAJI MEANS REVERED FATHER The long train ride brought me to this part of eastern India I was aiming to visit for a long time. Arriving at dusk to the sacred city of Varanasi was worth the 12 hour journey in a second class train packed with Indian families and all that that means: Chai vendors and the smell of Dhal and a variety of curries, and other Indian delicacies wrapped up in newspapers or simply plastic bags were part of my train car companions. It was April 8th and the heat was already hard to handle at these early hours of my first contact with the city. I still remember the chaos and the confusion atmosphere that, unexpectedly, hit all my senses. Varanasi was without a doubt, something else. Against any feeling of fragile hesitation, I gathered all my small luggage and faced the situation as I started to walk through tons of people, vehicles and any sort of street animals scattered around. The initial idea was to stay barely for two to three days in this chaotic city, but things will turn different as sudden surprises will stagger my premature thoughts. Long after I've found my tiny and simple accommodation through the maze, while sweating and suffering for the high temperatures of this warm and damp times, I felt the urge of sitting at a corner coffee shop and chill while taking the time to assimilate all that was going on. Let's say this place will be the changing course of this trip, with a big impact on many other aspects of my life too, that I wouldn't be able to recognize at this point yet. India is exhausting, but is so rewarding too.Sitting next to me there were a couple of travelers, which amazingly invited me to join them not only for a small talk, moreover, to come and join them for the rest of the day, walking me all around the city to the gates, where they will meet and introduce me to Babaji, an old acquaintance of them and beloved friend from previous trips to the city. As we approached the river, I started to witness the magic and the bustle of life near this sacred spot. Wild monkeys would jump hustling all the curious gathered around, street wreath vendors and kids playing with the buffaloes in the water completed the scene. And then, wrapped up in his orange saree, Babaji was sitting still next to a tiny blue chai stand, on the stairs of the ghats in front of the Ganga river. I still remember sitting there, next to him, being fascinated by the whole situation. His clear water blue eyes –whose intensity would remind me of the eyes of my beloved father long time gone now– in contrast with his dark goldish skin color, and his long grey hair curled up in dreadlocks, is an image I would hardly ever forget. Somehow I felt the presence of my dad with him. It was a strange feeling of connection. He was a shaddu, a sacred man who long time ago refused to carry on with any kind of material belongings, thus to dedicate his life to find the peace and enlightenment within himself, as a part of his life journey. After being introduced by my new best friends, we sat and talked to Babaji for hours, not only this day, but everyday since. The laughter and sense of humor of this human being will always bring a smile and a feel of inner joy and peace anytime his tender picture crosses my mind. We would make jokes in Spanish and talk about life and death, in the best scenario ever imagined and surrounded by people i would hardly forget. BABAJI means revered father, and today this word is tattooed on my chest left side, near to my heart, so i would ever forget them.