Today I woke up at 5:30, so that I would be able to negotiate my way to the top of this magical mountain. The reason I woke up so early, is that at noon, the temperature hits about 37 degrees Celsius, making it impossible to do anything but take cold showers and lie under a fan (no air-conditioning here).
I shall not endeavor to divulge any information regarding this mountain, supposedly as old as creation itself, attracting millions of pilgrims every year, (sorry, slipped out) as there is a wealth of information available online, for those who are interested.
Instead, I would like to pay a tribute to my guide, who showed me the way to the top and shared his accumulated knowledge on the different caverns and places where Maharishi (a local ascetic legend) spent various amounts of years meditating.
We didn't feel it was necessary to exchange names, so he shall remain nameless.
He traversed the path like a mountain goat. With lithesome steps, negotiating the onerous rocks and fauna with ease. I had to ask him to stop every 15 minutes or so as the heat was unbearable, and I was perspiring heavily, heaving and sighing, struggling to catch my breath.
During the whole of the way up and down he did not consume a single drop of water, while I was constantly hydrating myself.
You might be asking yourself why I regarded him so highly, and why I decided to pay a homage to him.
The answer is: he's 56.
He drinks only 2 cups of water a day, morning time, and eats 2 chappatis (whole wheat thin pan fried bread) at the evening plus a glass of milk.
He climbs the mountain at least twice daily, the first time at the break of dawn, with over 10 kilos of food for the monkeys residing at the top, and he puts my young body to shame.
His secret? (quoting him)
"God's blessing"
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