Rising in Love

Namastē the choir echoes back to me as every day when I enter the gate to my sleeping place. Same procedure every day. On the streets, on the way to the temple, in the restaurants, shops and anywhere else we go we hear them calling us. Drawing our attention to them. 

It’s been five days in spiri-town. The longest time in the same place so far. Spiri- food- drink- and shopping heaven. We’ve managed to spend the whole of the days hanging out in the noisy, buzzing alleys of town, scanning through shops for hours, having vegan ice cream cappuccinos, mixed fruit juices, fresh lemonades, shakes, lassis, street food, falafel wraps, fried Momos, bowls, salads, curries, cakes, chocolates and snacks of all kinds. The variety is sheer endless as we reach our last day still discovering new places where they offer the largest range of foods and creamy drinks you could ever imagine at prices that undergo your wildest dreams. 

Returning back to the hostel for our last night we’re again carrying multiple silky bags from the shopping as we cannot hold back from all the tempting offers, serving any wish we could have possibly had before. In India everything is possible. Why not. Everything Special for you. Magic. For us. Every day we’re laughing away in the turmoil of our new Indian friends, welcoming us at each and every corner. 

Making new friends with the locals wherever we go, ranging from little talks every day to massages, photo shootings, to being invited for food or drinks. The classics. India that noisy, colorful totally chaotic place where you walk between camels, cows, cars and honking bikes in the dusty dirty alleys, the trader’s trying to sell you all kinds of things you would never know of existing.

Indian dance music blasting out of speakers louder than in Berlin techno clubs, right into your ear when you’re trying to go to sleep, the locals gathering playing loud videos on their phones, yelling at each other casually. A buzz that’s deafening and unusual for our ears to adapt to. 

Next chapter. In the local train class moving back to our first destination. Back to the boys. The ride is smooth, the wind through the bars on the windows in our hair, we arrive relaxed and enthusiastic for the return to what used to be Pachamama. 

The boys welcoming us back, I get my also well known Apple vodka from the shop next door ready for some good time, finding nothing else throughout the night. Drunk and happy I go into a deep well deserved sleep ready for the last day of the year, putting on my new outfit feeling beautiful and loved. Receiving messages from long ago encounters randomly approaching me, telling me that they love me , how much they miss me. I hope to meet you in another country. I miss you. You look good. I wish you all good things for an amazing year baby. You deserve all the best. I love you honey. Obviously I’d love to see you. Coz from the moment we started talking I’ve felt such a connection to you and I love your energy and what a free spirit you are. I’m blown away. Random. Random and beautiful. More messages come in and so do the boys from the hostel who are physically present. 

Good morning honey flower. I stop look confused. He’s smiling. You look like a flower. I feel like a flower. On my search for soda water we’re chatting, he’s laughing at me. I’ll keep three bottles refrigerated for you. Better with my highly addictive behavior. I couldn’t imagine a better start into the last day of the year. 

Where is my spiritual ego going? He's asking while I’m trying to manage carrying all my belongings up to the roof. Ah if you’re going to the roof, you can carry one of our boxes, they’re laughing, the one with the sweetest smile. The tall one I fell in love with already the first time I even saw him only from the back two weeks ago at our first stop. I grab the box and walk up the roof where he’s bending towards me, taking the box, laughing. Oh no we were joking, you shouldn’t have taken it. He’s handing me a croissant. You should try that for me. I take the treat up to our seating area and start drinking my cappuccino. The last hours of the year and I am in a universe of love and laughter. 

After returning from our successful food hunt of the spiciest street food items including chola, breads, spicy filled pastries and cake, we’re starting our feast on the bed. Spreading our prey all over the sheets, snacking away for hours while trying to make the TV work. Having the time of our life when my mom is calling to wish me a good journey into the new year. 

Arriving at the roof the joy is sheer endlessly growing into tears of laughter with the boys. The glitter arriving just in time when the sun is setting in blood red for the last time this year. Glitter glitter like a little girl I start laughing, telling him that I want it all over me.

No sorry and no thank you between friends he says. I smile and remember my last trip to India sitting in the colorful lights between the balloons. Sparkles all around building up into a colorful world of lights and balloons, the most precious one brought to me on a stick, bringing out my most euphoria self. Moving to the music, everyone smiling at me seeing my purest happy child self. My bestie calling right when my friend is building up the music, telling me how to open myself for love. Rising in love. Together.

Writing down our wishes for the next year, what we’re grateful for in the past year, we share our worlds and understand that despite our all so different worlds in the back, we’re all the same in our hearts and what we’re wishing for in the deepest of our core. Forming new bonds, sharing our hurt, dancing into the new year with a great smile on our faces. Invited into their family for the first of the new year, I fall happily into sleep for a wonderful ending of the year and a great beginning of the new one. 2024. I welcome you with open arms for more of the beauty that you’ve shown me throughout the last year and every year before growing more fantastic than I could have ever imagined, transforming my life with me in it into a fairytale wonderland, ready for more.