Circling Eternity: 30-Days in the Playground of God

I’m in transit to London. We completed the lunar cycle, seeing the moon in all its phases and spending the entire month wandering around the holy land of Vrindavana. I was walking, disconnecting, writing daily, trying to internalise and crystalise. I was trying to be less public. Now I sit with so much I’d like to share. If all comes to pass, I’ll write a book about this month, one of the most memorable of my life. Below is a first-draft introduction to give you a flavour of the journey. Look forward to being with you all soon!

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Circling Eternity: 30-Days in the Playground of God

India… the place where rickshaw drivers replace their speedometers with pictures of God, where juice sellers lecture you on metaphysical truths, where self-appointed physicians feel your pulse for seven seconds and issue a miracle remedy, and where constructors will build a road around a tree instead of uprooting it. In India, people will force you to enter their home, trick you into eating, and then lovingly feed you more than you can handle. India is where people will passionately disagree at the slightest thing, and in the very next moment, let go and move on without any grudge whatsoever. It’s where an unknown woman will be addressed “maiya” (mother), cheeky boys are “lala” (just like your own), a man you meet for the first time is “bhaiya” (brother), and anyone doing something spiritual is “baba” (saintly person). The spiritual charm of India is undeniable, and despite the formidable onslaught of modernity, that sweetness perpetuates to this day.

India’s most precious wealth, however, lies in the hundreds of tīrthas, or holy places, which make it “the land of spirituality.” Tīrtha literally means a crossing place, bridge, portal, gateway and, ultimately, an entrance to eternity. Swarms of pilgrims are magnetically drawn to these sacred hubs, where Divinity becomes palpably accessible, and the prospect of spiritual elevation appears within reach. Amongst all tīrthas, Vrindavana reigns supreme. Situated on the bank of the Yamuna River, between New Delhi and Agra in North India, just a few miles away from the larger city of Mathura, Vrindavana exudes the epithet “the playground of God.” Some would say it’s not really a tīrtha, but more specifically a dhāma, or the very same transcendent abode manifest on the terrestrial plane. You go to a tīrtha to gain release and achieve mokṣa (liberation), whereas you visit a dhāma with the hope to remain there, imbibing the very spirit and heart of the place. You don’t go to a dhāma to attain another place, since the transcendent reality plays out there even today, perceivable by the pure souls who are privy to esoteric higher dimensional realities. Vrindavana is the spiritual world on earth. Sit with that for a moment and let it blow your mind.

This mystical hub attracts hundreds of thousands of pilgrims, many of whom make the vow to conduct a parikramā (literally “to walk around”), circumambulating the entire land, following in the footsteps of saints and sages of yore. Bare foot, and carrying the bare necessities, the seeker wanders from forest to forest, village to village, place to place, step by step, with the aspiration to discover, uncover and recover the spirit of Vrindavana. In all directions the Divine Couple, Radha and Krishna, are remembered – a story, a conversation, a revelation, a tree under which they met, a lake they bathed in, a rustic temple dedicated to their pastimes of love. Everything seamlessly revolves around them. People are attracted, sacrificing much to conduct their journey – time, expense, energy and comfort – not just to see the place, but to feel the emotion, not just to click a pic, but to peek beyond the material veil, not just to relax and unwind but to reconnect and intertwine. They move around, with the aim to be moved within. “I lost my heart in Vrindavana” a t-shirt says, highlighting the gold standard of a successful pilgrimage.

I write, just days after completing a 30-day parikramā. It was one of the most intense experiences of my life, and the heart plays host to a variety of emotions. At times I felt so removed and remote, and in other moments I felt like a fortunate intruder, privy to a world I wasn’t qualified for. It was austere and physically demanding, but simultaneously liberating and joyfully natural. I often found myself counting down the days left, while at other times I felt perfection and complete presence in the moment – nowhere to go, nothing else to achieve. I felt like a caterpillar breaking out of a cocoon, struggling to morph into a beautiful butterfly, destined to fly in the sky. Vrindavana forces you out of material small-mindedness, and as we emerge from that struggle, we glimpse another world, where life is play and play is life. It was a heavy struggle, albeit a healthy struggle. I’m still breaking out, and not quite flying yet. But I have a North star, I’m building my wings, waiting and praying to explore that world of unlimited possibility.

The ancient writer Bhaktivinoda Thakur explains that three vibhūtis (opulences) characterise Vrindavana: amṛta (never-changing and eternally fresh), aśoka (free of sorrow and lamentation) and abhaya (devoid of fear and apprehension). Day after day, I walked, read, heard, observed, prayed, reflected, struggled… I perceived these qualities, as I drifted in and out of spiritual consciousness. Vrindavana is the land we were made for. Vrindavana is the resting place for the soul. In Vrindavana, all dreams are reality. Vrindavana is home.

Being on parikramā is like a radical disorientation, jolted out of the structures and strictures of ‘normal’ life, transposed into another world. The aim, however, is profound re-orientation, to again synergise with our highest aspiration. Allow me to share this 30-day story with you as we circle eternity, with the ardent prayer to remain in that transcendental orbit for all time to come.

S.B. Keshava Swami