Sonepat, 24 May 1972
I am at Sonepat with Shanti and a large group of his friends, in order to meet his teacher, Dr. Koshik. The doctor is a sweet man, full of love, with a blissful smile like the Buddha, wise and somewhat ironic. We are welcomed by his family with great simplicity and overwhelming hospitality. Like everywhere else in India I've always found that no matter how many guests there may be, they are treated with tremendous hospitality and offered somewhere to sit and an abundance of food.
For most of the time we sit with the doctor in a kind of meditation, talking from time to time, but very quietly and slowly. He expresses a keen interest in me, about my purpose for being in India so far from my home and has introduced me to his neighbours. When I sit with him, I feel immense peace and show him photographs of Babaji and tell him about the temple and my experiences there. I know from Shanti that he is a disciple of Krishnamurti and that he doesn't believe in the use of rituals, mantras and so on, only in self knowledge and self enquiry, but I feel a great respect from him. He talks about the importance of experiencing the spiritual in life and tells us that he attained a certain degree of awareness by simply sitting under a tree for some days, observing his own mind, seeking his own true self with eyes wide open, fully conscious.
After remaining with him for some time, I seem to have the same smile on my face that he has all of the time, a particularly quiet energy engulfing me; the doctor feeds us with Indian sweetmeats and showers us with love and affection.
Delhi, 26 May 1972
I've returned to Delhi again, before leaving for Rishikesh with Piero and Claudio to visit a great Tibetan lama. It feels right for me to know about other teachers and their diverse teachings, so as to deepen my understanding of Babaji and through this comparison come to value Him and His teachings even more.
Rishikesh, 27 May 1972
I have arrived in Rishikesh with Piero, Claudio and some other friends. On the train journey Rosa and I slept together on the same wooden bench.
Rishikesh is beautiful, green, and the water of the Ganges is clean, the river bordered by a wide beach of white sand. We are staying at the small ashram of Swami Prakash Bharti, surrounded by mango trees. The Indian people seem extremely pleased that we have come here and last night we cooked them a delicious feast of Italian rice with tomatoes.
The Swami has large, peaceful eyes, dark and warm. He plays a game with us: to each of us in turn he stares into our eyes to see who can look without blinking for the longest period of time, and he always wins. His eyes resemble the water of a tranquil lake.
The other day an extremely old sadhu arrived here, with exceptionally long hair knotted on his head, his body tall and thin, his skin brown. He walks particularly slowly on some strange wooden sandals and he seldom speaks. The Swami explained to us that he has been in a state of samadhi for one year, for all that time closed up in a cave, without consuming any food and even stopping his heart from beating and halting his breathing. Is that possible? Who knows if it's true, but the sadhu certainly seems like a being from another planet, he is extraordinarily gentle and detached from everything.
The other day Rosa was practising hatha yoga postures in the garden, completely naked. The Swami was embarrassed and laughed awkwardly, but the old sadhu continued watching her with complete indifference. The people here are extremely kind and they offer us food all the time as well as tea to drink, and they often smoke hashish. During the day we frequently take showers under the mango trees, trying to fend off the interminable heat and in the mornings we go to the river Ganges. The river is truly wonderful, the water pure and transparent, with a strong current.
The Swami is teaching me the Indian alphabet and some devotional songs. The other day he placed around my neck a rudraksha mala, a string of seeds from the tree dedicated to Lord Shiva. He told me that he is my guru but I don't feel this to be true. As yet I am not sure whether Babaji is my guru either, but I continually find myself thinking about Him and am surprised how difficult it is to take my eyes off the photograph of Him that I carry. There is a special beauty in His form, a purity that I have never encountered before, the energy of an angelic being.
In India, sadhus, the ascetics, are highly respected since they have dedicated their lives to God. People welcome them, give them food and hospitality. They often travel around the country having renounced a normal life, doing ascetic practices, like living on very little food or sleep, and meditating for long periods of time. Real sadhus are free spirits, beyond every rule and regulation, even if they follow their own spiritual discipline. They look, even physically, different from the rest of the Indian people, they have beautiful, supple bodies, often grow their hair very long and possess special eyes, warm and intense, with a particular light. They maintain a high degree of cleanliness, observing special rules of purity.
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Tibetan Initiation - Lama Sakya Trinzin
Mussouri, 1 June 1972
Yesterday, with Piero and Claudio, I travelled from Rishikesh to Mussouri, high up in the mountains. We have come to live in a place called 'Happy Valley', a Tibetan village. Piero and Claudio want to take initiation from Sakya Trinzin, one of the four Dalai Lamas, head of the Sakya order, and they have brought me with them. They told me that this is a serious matter and that I should ask the Lama personally for permission to receive initiation. In the meantime we are staying together in a tiny room in a Tibetan house, sleeping on the floor on some straw mats.
There are only Tibetan people living in this area and I find them extraordinarily beautiful. I am attracted and fascinated by their lovely oriental faces, with high cheek-bones and almond shaped eyes that always express joy. The men often have very long plaited hair usually tied with a ribbon, they are incredibly kind-hearted and some of them even spend time knitting. Otherwise they continuously pray using long rosaries of wooden beads. Unlike the Indian people they don't have an excitable energy, neither do they make a lot of noise or invade the privacy of others. They are quiet, respectful, always smiling, and one feels safe with them. We use their small restaurants because the food is familiar to us Italians, light and without any spices, noodles and vegetable soup much like home, prepared with a mother's care. They also cook momo, a white, soft bread and continually drink salted tea with butter. The women are particularly elegant, clothed in long, traditional dresses, wearing ancient jewellery made of silver, coral and turquoise. On one occasion we went to eat in an elaborate, Western-style restaurant, but I prefer the small simple, Tibetan ones with the welcoming aroma of vegetables. Far away in the distance we can see the snowy peaks of the Himalayas, pure and majestic.
3 June 1972
Today we went to visit His Holiness Sakya Trinzin, in a Tibetan monastery, half-way towards Derhadun. We were permitted to talk with him alone for a few minutes, I felt very shy, particularly because I hardly speak any English. The impression he made on me was of a young man, rather fat and motherly, with a large, rotund face and long hair tied back at the neck, revealing large, turquoise earrings. He symbolizes the perfect integration of both male and female energy in a single human body and has green eyes, very clear, amiable and peaceful. I bowed to him and he placed his hand