Kailash Darshan – Leaving Myself

Before I left the ashram, I was asked if I would write an article about my (yet to happen) experience of the Kailash Darshan. I had readily agreed – but upon my returning several days ago, I found myself staring at a blank page, not knowing what to write. For as I looked into my heart and my mind, attempting to grasp something of those ungraspable two weeks, I knew something truly significant had happened, but I was unable to make any sense of it.

There were thirty participants and fifteen volunteers coming from different parts of the world, including Russia, Ukraine, Germany, UK, US, Canada, Czech Republic, Iran, Lebanon, Nepal, and India. Traveling with Sadhguru, our small group was the only batch coming from Isha this year due to the COVID restrictions. Moreover, we were not permitted to enter China this time, and so we would be trekking entirely in Nepal and having the darshan of Mount Kailash from an elevated plain in the Nepalese mountains about fifty miles away.

My responsibilities included taking care of the audio arrangements for the satsangs with Sadhguru as well as being a part of the music team. I also had to learn to play the drum – for waking people up in the mornings, and for making them dance in the evenings!

Accompanied by a hardy crew of sherpas, we spent over a week trekking and driving through the Nepalese mountains. We traveled through some of the most strikingly beautiful terrain I have ever seen. This landscape, lacking all but the sparsest vegetation, possessed a different kind of beauty – raw, rugged, and immense. You could feel the elemental life force emanating from the rocks, streams, and the very air. And the local Nepalese tribal people had acquired the same kind of features as the surrounding nature.

I remember being struck by their demeanor when Sadhguru once stopped to photograph a small group of them. Men and women with weather-beaten but vibrantly alive faces, simple and unassuming, but exuding a deep sense of equanimity – unaware, I supposed, of whose lens they were privileged to be under at that moment.

As the trek progressed, people began to drop their limitations. They became at ease with the most basic of facilities, and neither cold nor rain could dampen their spirits! After a few days, the distinction between participants and volunteers blurred, with everyone getting involved in whatever activity needed to be done. Having left the last traces of civilization behind us, I could feel a sense of joy and abandon pervade the group as we moved onward into the mountains.

As Sadhguru’s presence enveloped us, a certain bond began to grow between us all. Gradually, I found myself connecting so deeply with this blessed group of people who had somehow found themselves on this journey. They were seeking something, but they didn’t know what. Many of them had reached the peak of success in their fields but had realized there was still something fundamental missing from their lives. They seemed to universally recognize that Sadhguru was a living possibility to approach that dimension. Their thirst to know rekindled something within me – something that I had felt so strongly when I first came to the ashram as a 24-year-old, and that maybe had gradually subsided over the years.

When we eventually reached the viewpoint where we would be able to have the darshan of Mount Kailash, Sadhguru immediately started the initiation process. The sky was initially cloudy, and as Sadhguru sat and gazed into the distance, the clouds slowly parted to reveal Mount Kailash. But just as suddenly as the darshan had happened, Sadhguru announced that a weather situation was afoot and we needed to immediately move inside the satsang tent to continue the process. Snowflakes drifted before my eyes as Sadhguru completed the initiation process.

While the original plan was to be at the viewpoint for just three hours, due to the adverse weather conditions, Sadhguru said that we would all need to spend the night here. The temperatures were sub-zero, and we were without most of our tents. Everyone was asked to squeeze into the satsang tent for the night, and we huddled together, everyone sitting on the common bedding, to share a cozy dinner. At this point, both in terms of comfort and comradeship, we had become like a group of close school friends having the adventure of a lifetime.

As I stood on the mountain at that sacred hour, listening to the Kannada words floating through the mist, I felt enormously privileged to be in that space.