In which I sit in an ashram and cry.

I have spent a fair time on self reflection recently and none more so than today when I paid my first ever visit to am ashram. Sitting in then(obligatory ) silence amongst a garden of beautiful flowers and full of the smells of blossom and incense, I sat and cried. The honesty that my foolish pride in setting of for india ful of arrogant confidence had ended I literally a massive fall is humbling as well as very painful, physically and psychologically.
An hours 'meditation' did help work through the angst, self pity and down right embarrassment of being so incapacitated ..in such a bizarre way.
And the peace and solitude in safe settings away from the constant hassle of the town was blissful.
Pondicherry is the usual Indian chaotic mix , there are the charming French avenues, the mad buzz of street life, markets, temples,  quiet fishing village 'suburb' where families sit on the pavement and play games  with stones, the evening promenade along the main beach.

The Suburbs

Pondicherry Street Life

Guardian of The Beach

Beach in the evening

Many come here for long stays in the ashrams which I can, ish, understand, though maybe an hour was enough for my western self for the time being. But the ashram and my lovely shady roof terrace here in this colonial heritage guest house are working maybe not wonders, but certainly helping me get back on my feet, in every way.

Hope she is praying for me!