Arriving in Delhi, India at precisely 1:30am (the Germans are always punctual), what was 2 floors of slumbering, snoring passengers instantaneously roused.  As the doors to the plane opened, everyone rushed out into the terminal, and many were running!  Travelers from everywhere running with their rolling bags like dragon tails, businessmen rushing with firm grip tethered to their briefcases, women in adorned saris hurrying their children in tow, and me in a zombie like daze, watching all of this hustle with childlike wonder.

An insight into the level of my maturity – It was like that scene from the Bugs Bunny cartoon, where Bugs finds himself in Tasmania, as he pops out of his hole there is a stampede of animals running from the Tasmanian devil.

I kept expecting to hear the whirl and the “argibal gargibalar rrrraaaaahhhh” of the Tasmanian devil.  When he did not appear, I sat down on the nearest bench and composed myself before making my way to immigration.  Then it hit me!  Like Mrs. Tasmanian devil hit the Tasmanian devil with a rolling pin.  I thought “I was litterly the farthest away from my home that I could possibly be without leaving planet earth.”

Holy Cow!  At the top of the escalators, I now understand why everyone was running.  The entire immigration room now packed with those waiting to enter India.  The escalator descended me into a massive sea of humanity, and the energy of hundreds of travelers enveloped my senses, my entire being.

Making my way to almost the end of que, a few other dim-witted “zombies” queued in behind me.  This bolstered my confidence.

Accepting that I would be here for a while, I starred around in wonder.  I looked up I noticed several huge sculptures of mudras.  They are so amazingly beautiful.  I took out my cell phone to capture some pictures.  After all, I was going to be there awhile, why not take pictures of the airport?  I heard a gentle voice in my ear “Is this your first time here?”  Giggling I turned around and said “what tipped you off?”  to a very nice Indian gentleman who greeted me with a smile and we laughed together.  He went on to explain the meaning of the mudras.

Mudras are expressive hand gestures that form an intrinsic part of Indian Classical Dance, Yoga and visual arts.  Mudras are believed to channelize natural forces and aid spiritual and mental well being by enhancing the flow of energies through the body.

Tripataka Mudra

Tripataka Mudra ~ Denotes the application of talapia or victory mark on forehead, but specifically denotes the hoisting of a flag compose of three fabrics or colors, hence tri-patuka.  Definitely symbolizing journey, travel, arrival, welcome and victory.

Clearing immigration and customs, making my way to the next huge and very loud room, I was now wondering how I was going to meet my driver.  There were hundreds maybe thousands of people from all over the world.  Every imaginable language was being spoken, actually shouted, with the maybe the exception of Hawaiian.  Yoga scriptures, teaches that one attains an ideal understanding of innerconnectedness with all beings.  Coming immediately to this understanding, I realized that “Downward Facing Dog” was NOT required.

Approaching a massive lineup of Indian men holding signs with people names written on them, I calmly thought “just draw your energy and awareness to you driver” and just then I saw my name neatly typed on a sheet of paper.  Whew!

My greeter escorted me outside he chatted and waited with me until my driver arrived.  Amidst the traffic jam of cars, buses, motorcycles, came an obnoxious screeching from 4 huge speakers mounted to a tow truck.  I said “Wow! They really take towing cars seriously here!  Where I come from, they just threaten to write a ticket.”  He tilted his head, like a puppy dog trying to understand what has just been said.  Standing there in the cacophony of people yelling and honking horns, I came to understand that the Delhi Police don’t write many tickets, if any!

My driver arrived and in a very nice, clean, and quite van, I was now on my way to my hotel through the quite and unlit streets of Delhi.

Namaste –

Kathleen

Copyright © 2016 Kathleen M. Callan

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