Modern Lives, Sacred Hills

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"What is God and how do you define God?" I ask.

"According to me, there is only one God, who is omnipresent and omnipotent," says the swami. "There is only one religion and that is the religion of love. Who is God, where is God, and what is the form of God? God is the cosmic current which is pervading through every atom of the universe. It is everywhere, in everybody, in every atom, it is just like current flowing."

It takes me a while to appreciate his words, but ultimately I realize that I have to let go of my expectations and just allow myself to be. My family in India seems to share similar values of tolerance, peace, and a connection to an omnipresent God whose name, shape, and size are irrelevant. Jesus, Allah, Buddha, Venkateswara. They are all the same.

I am starting to realize that understanding the spirituality of India is the key to understanding my mother, and maybe even a bit of myself.

THE MUSLIMS HAVE Mecca, the Christians have Jerusalem, and for Hindus, Tirupati is the holiest of holy places, the transcendental plane on Earth where my ancestors have gone for generations to have their prayers granted. The ancient sages of India believed the rigorous walk up these seven hills would fulfill the vows of the pilgrim. They believed that the essence of God is held inside this temple. God, the Soul, and the Universe together form one reality. An all-pervading cosmic current.

We have traveled across the world to make this pilgrimage and walk these steps up to the ancient and sacred temple of Sri Venkateswara on the seventh peak of Tirupati Hill. The town and the hills are bursting with the energy of the 50,000 pilgrims who come here daily.

It was my mother's will that brought us here, but, ironically, her body isn't strong enough to walk the steps. My father stays behind with her and only the young in our group start on the trek.

We are an unlikely crew from the other side of the planet. Me, my brother freshly unplugged from the Tokyo club scene, and Tom, who is sporting a mini-DV camera and sunscreen. We aren't exactly blending in with the other pilgrims, but each of us has his own appointment in these sacred hills. For some reason, fate has brought us here, thousands of miles from home.

We keep walking, mile after mile, step after step. The equipment seems to get heavier as the air thins. Our machismo fades as my three young cousins glide by us and giggle. We stop for spiced pineapple and catch our breath. After mile four everything becomes about breathing. All I can hear is my breath, and I can see clearly that the place I am in is magic.

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