The Journey Home Autobiography

as i crawled out from the icy Himalayan water of the Bagmati River, I gazed at two heaps of ashes, one from a cremation pit and the other from a sacrificial fire. I was dressed in only a loincloth, and a cold wind chilled me to the bone. An intense longing gripped me. What was I doing here—shivering, alone, nearly starving, and so far from home? Was all my searching to be in vain? I stared up at stars that were shimmering through the branches of an ancient banyan tree. Birds of the night warbled a melancholy song. Sacred fires burned brightly along the riverbank, where holy men, their hair matted like ropes hanging down below their knees, threw offerings of pungent herbs into the flames. From the smoldering remains, they scooped out handfuls of ashes and smeared them over their flesh. Completing the ritual, they marched toward the sacred shrine that I yearned to enter.

جهت استعلام قیمت و سفارش چاپ این محصول لطفا با انتشارات گنج حضور تماس حاصل فرمایید