"India lives in several centuries at the same time. Somehow we manage to progress and regress simultaneously."Arundhati Roy in The Algebra of Infinite Justice.
On the 14th of February, we take the train for Gokharna, a small costal town in Karnataka state, about 4 hours away South from Arambol. We go to celebrate Shivaratri, the Lord of the Animals birthday, one of the biggest Hindu festivals. Mahadev, Pashupati the Husband of the Cow, Shiva is one of the Hindu trinity gods. All women pray to him for their husband to be as viril as he is. Shiva is the wild one, sitting in jungles surrounded by animals, he smokes chillums creating and destroying the world with each puff of smoke. Shiva dances the universe, creating musical scale, dressed in tiger skin, Nagh, his snake wrapped around his neck. He has no cares for gold and riches.
In the week, the village gets filled up with thousands of Hindus coming from every part of South India to take part in the feast. Gokharna is a pilgramage village, filled with brahmans, cleanliness and order. A sand mandala decorates the front of every house. Here nothing changes, religion makes sure that things remain the same.
The beach gets decorated with sand sculptures of shiva lingams, pilgrams sleep on the beach, eating the free meals distributed for such events. Beggers make a line, each sitting with a blanket in front of them, waiting for any grain of rice falling from the sky. The beach gets filled up with the usual plastic toys and shiny trinkets being sold at Hindu festivals. Roller coasters and kid trains make the whole thing feel like a mini Disney world. Here, the gods like shopping, they want plastic toys, shoes and hair clips. The night sky glows like a synthetic rainbow.
Music fills up the valley with sitar and chanting. Bikash and friends play a concert organized for foreigner musicians, Goraknath band they were called for the show. They even got an award for best musicians with an invitation to go meet the local guru. A couple of other foreigners sing mantras and praise Shiva in an over enthousiastic like tone. A couple more foreigners loosing themselves and their culture, trading their own for another. "Fa fa fa fashion" I think while looking for my favorite thing at Hindu festivals: the sweet stands selling sugar in balls and other shapes.
Next to the village, 3 beaches welcome the globe touring backpackers. Kudle, Om and Paradise beach offer beach huts and mud houses to stay in for a 100 to 300 rupees a night. Hippies and travellers cook on the fire, play music and do the usual hedonistic hippy stuff. 
We stay in a mud house, amongst the coconut trees and the quietness of the fields. Silence whispers on every palm leaf dancing in the warm breathe of the air. The coast is like an untouched jewel shining under the hot South indian sun. The plates are filled with idlis, a steamed rice cake served with coconut curry and dosas, a crepe like folded dow filled with patatoe or other fillings. 
For Shivaratri, Brahmans and local police pull a tall wooden tower trhough the main road, while the crowd throws bananas at the tower for long life. I throw a banana, not really whishing for longer life. Life as I know it is already an eternal dance, it will last long enough just as it is. I have no need to ask for more. Some babas smoke for Shiva, trying to call him away from his silent jungle meditation. Shiva, undisturbed, stays in his forest. Not enough babas here, Mahedev needs a lot more smoke to be felt.
"The only dream worth living is to dream that you will live while alive and die only when you are dead."Arundhati Roy in The Algebra of Infinite Justice.
A couple weeks later, we take the train back up to the zoo that Goa seems to be. Thanks to Andy from Arambol Hammacks we go fly in the sky. We say good byes to the freaks we love with a "see you next season". It's time to pack the bags one more time, . It's good by to Goa for the year, time to follow the migration back up North like the migrating turtles we are.
More train and we're in Dehli when I buy some glow in the dark paints and some waxed thread for jewerly. A few more hours of bus and we're back in the mountains of Himachal Pradesh, in Mc Leod Gang, Dalai Lama and Tibetans territory. The cold of the mountain replaces the heat of the South. A big wool pair of socks and a sweater get added to the turtle bags.
2 years after my arrival in India, I am back where I started. 2 years in India, with a different me. All passes, and it's good just like that.
"The absolute tranquility is the present moment. There is no limit to this moment, and herein is eternal delight." Hui-Neng.
