Number three (of the greater trinity) came in a most unexpected form. Still wrestling with the hangover of 10 days of intense meditation, now cushioned by reiki and vibrational healing, I had managed to calm my ecstatic visions of Buddhas and ultra-purple lights to a quiet buzz. Somehow though the fellow-meditating Swiss girl, who in transcendent state resembled my deceased mom more than I cared to acknowledge to myself, continued to dog my dreams. Which is why her arrival on my Bangalore doorstep, en route to Thailand, a few days after my return, woke me up with a jolt. Having spent the last six months travelling India, she had much to share, including a visit to Amma, the world-renowned Keralan hugging mother, who had enveloped her in saintly warmth. All related while my happy cleaner cleaned, and unproficient in English, headed straight for the photo of my mom to point out the resemblance. “Your sistah, sistah?” she cried. “Yeah, I reckon,” I stuttered.
Thank you, India. Where else on earth would I want to be?