(Personal blog post)
Will it be still me, who will once come back? Already 6 months I have been eating only with hands, wearing Indian clothes, smiling while walking through the muddy market in flip-flops and negotiating the price of the okra. I love okra so much. And pinch of saffron in my green tea.
And will I come back at all?
And if my physical body returns … will my soul return? And my heart?
Where are they now? Surely somewhere together. In India and Nepal, they have learned to walk only together.
But where are they?
Maybe somewhere in rice fields, knees in muddy water. Dancing. And they do not care whether they will come back home dirty. Because it’s just a mud. With their arms spread, they are letting bent heads of the rice to nudge their fingertips. Sometimes it tickles.
And maybe they roll with laughter down the Himalayan hills. They end up with their heads between the fragrant flowers. They straight their legs and bury them in fresh grass. The dew runs down on the toes. They are freckled. Naturally, but also from small particles of grass, pollen and clay.
Perhaps they are sitting in the rickshaw, leaving the rush of the street to keep them in the presence. Tu tuuuu, watch out! There is a cow in the middle of the way! Well, and what?
And perhaps, they are looking right now into Nepalese eyes. They want to immerses themselves in them. They are so beautifully dark and deep, yet sometimes you can see only a tiny strip of them. They are exactly so beautiful like this when they laugh. And sometimes even more beautiful when they are sad.
Perhaps my soul and heart are now embracing the world. Together.
