Day 3 of the Narmada Parikrama: Durga, a pumpkin pig and a cellar full of chillum

I had slept so wonderfully. No sound, except the birds that woke up around the same time as me and started chirping away happily. Before I had even got up, the caretaker of Belghat Ashram was already busy sweeping and cleaning the grounds outside. I didn't know yet that I would sleep very differently the next night.

But first: washing. Quickly out of bed and down to the ghat, for a dip in the cool water of the Narmada. Oh, that was lovely. I was wide awake straight away and ready to go again. Get dressed, say goodbye to the caretaker, and off we went again, on our way to a new adventure.

With a few more directions from the caretaker we walked out into the landscape. Navigating was a bit of a thing. Narrow little paths criss-crossed through the rice and grain fields, and just when you thought: ahhh, I've got the right path, it turned out to be a dead end after all. So sometimes we literally had to cross the rice fields, carefully. Luckily you can never really get lost as long as you keep the Narmada on your right. Then it always works out.

A party for Durga

After a few hours of walking we could already hear music blasting in the distance. When the village came into view, we saw why: there was a celebration for the goddess Durga. Yasha said: "I'd like to pay my respects to the goddess." So we headed for a big, colourful tent with the goddess on an altar, surrounded by people busy preparing the puja for Durga Visarjan, the farewell celebration for the goddess.

Everyone looked beautiful: the men in orange kurtas or dhotis, the women in red saris with gold embroidery. And us? Two sweaty hikers with backpacks.

Still, we were warmly welcomed and immediately treated to apples and bananas. They call this prasad, a gift. And right away the questions came: who are you, where are you from, and are you really going to walk the Narmada Parikrama? They were all amazed at the devotion and the challenge we had taken on, and loved that we had just turned up at their puja like that. But now the puja really had to start, so enough with the questions and on with it.

There was a pandit (a kind of priest) who explained to everyone what they had to do. He started his mantras, and three married couples sat down in front of Durga's altar. Each time, the pandit told them what to do: put a flower on the altar, or sprinkle the statue using a special little stick that they dipped in the water and then waved towards the goddess. Meanwhile, a man was busy putting herbs, ghee and all sorts of things together in a bowl and mixing them.

Then came the offering to the fire. The man who had mixed everything shared out the stuff among the couples, who were now sitting around the fire. The pandit carried on with his mantras, and at his signal the couples kept throwing a little of it into the fire, which burned harder and harder.

I really didn't understand a thing. It was the first time I had seen anything like it, but it kept me fascinated, for about two hours. To finish, a pig was slaughtered. Well, a fake one: a pumpkin with legs made of wooden sticks and a pig's head drawn on it. Everyone burst out laughing when it appeared, and the pandit made a joke about it too, Yasha told me.

It was all very relaxed. People came and went, nobody had to be there the whole time, and the kids ran around all over the place. After that it was time to eat, actually meant for the children, because on this day they are also seen as gods. But Yasha and I got food too: bhandara.

And then something happened that I hadn't seen coming. One of the villagers gave us money. We really didn't want to take it. "Come on, no, really not necessary." But he wouldn't take no for an answer. "You can't refuse a gift," he said. So reluctantly, but with a lot of gratitude, we accepted it.

In the end we left with lots of waving. It filled our hearts with so much love and happiness. I had never experienced so much kindness and acceptance. The modern world could learn a thing or two from that.

The pandit won't let us go

But let me move on and keep it short. Oh yes, almost forgot… (yes, it's not going to be short after all): on the way to the next ashram we ran into the pandit once more, on his motorbike. He asked if we wanted a lift, but we said no. We had promised the Narmada to do the whole journey on foot.

A while later a few young women offered us chai. At first we wanted to say no, because roughly every 500 metres someone offered us chai. But they kept insisting and were so polite that we went inside after all. And sure enough, whose house was it? The pandit's! We all had to laugh about it. We quickly figured out that he had raced ahead and told his daughters: those two are 100% coming this way, so wait outside and bring them in.

More sweets, more chai, more fruit for the road. And the chatting and the questions, it just didn't stop. Super cosy. But the sun was going down, and we really had to go, or we would arrive far too late at the next ashram.

A night with one eye open

That one was called Sitaram Ashram, in Barnai. And let me say it right away: it was not the best experience. Pretty creepy. I'm still ignorant and don't know this world well yet, but I felt really uncomfortable. We slept in a filthy cellar, stinking of smoke and who knows what else, and this was our first encounter with people who smoked a lot of chillum. Only they were all skinny as rakes, let's say not very well looked-after men, so it might just as well have been opium.

There was also a guru staying at this ashram, who is said to be 150 years old. Nobody knows for sure. He never accepted money, but he did have an expensive car with a driver. And the big ashram wasn't his, but then again it actually kind of was. I found it all pretty hard to believe. Interesting and bizarre to experience, that's for sure.

It was the first night I slept with one eye open. No birds waking me up, just the smell of chillum in a cellar. As soon as it got light, we packed our things and were gone.

Outside, the Narmada was simply there again, flowing calmly, as if nothing had happened. We kept her on our right and walked on. Because that's the beauty of this journey: you never know what you'll find around the next bend. A party, a pumpkin pig, or a cellar. But as long as the Narmada flows on your right, it always works out.