River of Offerings by Jennifer Prugh

Author:Jennifer Prugh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mandala Publishing
Published: 2021-08-03T00:00:00+00:00

Ponderosa pines, fruit trees, and cactus slowly give way to shelves of coal-gray rock pushed upward over thousands of years into sharp, cloud-covered peaks. Vishnu’s body is thought to be mapped into this country, his forehead residing in Badrinath. These snowy mountains covered in clouds are the same mountains in the Mahabharata, where Arjuna, his four brothers, their one wife, Draupadi, and their loyal dog ascended the slopes of a peak in western Garhwal called Swargarohini, or “the Ascent to Heaven.” One by one, the brothers and Draupadi died, until only Yudhisthira and the dog remained. Indra appeared to welcome Yudhisthira to heaven but stated firmly that no dogs can enter heaven. “He is a faithful companion,” said Yudhisthira, who refused to go on without him. “This dog has been companion, protector, friend. I will stay near him.” Upon this, the dog transformed into the god Dharma, who appreciated Yudhisthira’s devotion to truth and welcomed him into heaven to join his wife and brothers.

Badrinath is about a ten-hour drive by car. By the time we approach the temple, it’s pouring rain. A stream of people forms a queue to enter the temple, while below, the Alaknanda River literally swells before our eyes. When Ganga was asked to descend to Earth, the Earth couldn’t take her fierce fall, so a deal was struck: She would split into twelve holy channels. This is one of them. I’m wrapping my camera in thick plastic to protect it from rain. Faisal, who grew up on the warm plains below, is shivering, so we choose not to wait two hours to enter the temple. This will prove to be a potentially life-saving decision.

Mana is the last Indian village before the Tibetan border, our final stop before we turn the car around under the dark and daunting mountains that are said to be the origin of the invisible Saraswati River, and where Vyasa wrote the Mahabharata. It’s also where a unit of the Indian Army sleeps in tents made of simple wood frames and black tarps, and where I realize that there is something my compadres aren’t saying. Our starter motor is broken. We must keep the car’s ignition running, or we’ll have to park downhill and ask for a push.

The clouds that lurk over dark mountains are shapeshifters in constant motion.

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