The journey began before we arrived
Most of my memories of Kainchi begin in the car. Depending on where Dad was posted, we travelled from Bareilly, Nainital or Dehradun, always with Mom, Dad and my sister.
We stopped at Do Gaon for bread pakora and chole. On the way back, I always wanted bhutta. These simple things became part of going to Kainchi.
After Bhowali, my sister and I looked towards the left side of the road, waiting for the first glimpse of the ashram. The moment we saw it, we folded our hands and bowed our heads. We had not yet reached the gates, but in our minds we had already arrived.
We went whenever Ma was there, for Guru Purnima and on other occasions throughout the year. When I say Ma, I mean Sri Siddhi Ma. We called Sri Jivanti Ma Choti Ma.
Settling into ashram life
After arriving, we collected the room keys and settled in while waiting to be called for darshan. We often shared a room with Mausi and my cousin. We all slept on the floor. The ashram provided mattresses, sheets, pillows and blankets.
Nothing about this felt uncomfortable. It was simply how we stayed at Kainchi. Children could wander and play as long as we did not make noise or disturb anyone. Sometimes ‘we’ meant my sister and me, and sometimes it included other children staying in the ashram. I had a wonderful childhood there.
I remember the prayer bells and the chilly morning air. Mom woke before us, bathed and got ready, and only then woke my sister and me. Some mornings we went for Ma’s darshan still sleepy, almost straight out of bed.
Prayers and bal bhog
After Maharajji’s prarthana, I went to each temple for darshan. During the final prayers in Maharajji’s mandir, I stood with my hands folded and prayed. Then came the part I waited for most: bal bhog.
The bal bhog I remember was aloo, puri and kale chane. I gave my share of the chane to Mom and ate only the puri and aloo. I still do not know how those potatoes are made, but they have tasted the same for as long as I can remember. Even now, if we are reaching Kainchi in the evening, I make sure Dad calls ahead and asks someone to keep a little for me.
Afternoon and evening prasad were served in the dining hall after prayers. On entering, one could read the words, ‘Kripya maun hokar prasad paayen.’ Silence was part of how we ate, prayed and moved around one another.
One memory from June
Sthapana Diwas was one of many occasions on which we visited, but the morning of 15 June had its own energy.
Before the bhandara began, plates of malpua mahaprasad were covered with red cloth and carried on people’s heads from the kitchen to the temples. One person was assigned to each temple and carried the bhog to that temple. Drums were beaten as people called out, ‘Gurudev Bhagwan ki Jai.’
Everyone stood and watched. Once the bhog had been taken to all the temples, the gates opened and the bhandara began. That moment always felt different, but it was only one part of the much larger Kainchi I knew.
Leaving home
Leaving was always difficult. Kainchi did not feel like somewhere we had visited. It felt like home, so going away felt like leaving home.
Perhaps that is why the smallest details have remained with me: Do Gaon, the first glimpse after Bhowali, prayer bells, shared rooms, bal bhog and the quiet freedom of being a child inside the ashram.