Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
what
had
happened. Words failed, simply did not adapt to the feelings
I wished to express. A week later, I could no longer return my
consciousness to wherever it had been at all. It was like waking from
a beautiful dream and realising that you could never ever explain
why
the dream was beautiful. I was only certain of one thing again: I
should leave Puttaparthi. As soon as possible.
As my bus finally turned onto the Bangalore road, I felt an
enormous sense of relief. As if I'd survived some dreadful test, as if
I'd passed through the fire. I hardly knew that person who had
arrived there the previous September. Something of him had been
burned away, some part I didn't miss. Even the searing air now
seemed kinder and cooler. As many have attested, before and since,
Puttaparthi is a crucible. It would be twenty years before I physically
saw the place again, although in dreams I returned often.
