The family that gave me the courage by its sheer presence, to stay at that semi-dark building for the night at Badrinath, was from Haryana. They moved to a single room nearby. Except the mattress on which I was ready to sleep, there was nothing else.
The boy said that the name of the place was Janata Ashram. Only then did I realise that an ashram need not necessarily be a vast expanse with exotic birds sipping out of a pond of water, but can be just a dilapidated and dirty rest house too! He collected the cost of Rs 100 for the accommodation. He returned shortly to ask if I needed any dinner. I told him that I was not hungry and just wished to go to sleep.
“I will be sleeping in this room too, you have any problem?” the boy who seemed around 18 years old, asked me. I gathered my wits and said, “Yes of course, I do have a problem if you are going to sleep here. In that case, I am moving out of here to find some other place,” I said. He left me with that and asked me to close the door. Thankfully he didn’t disturb me until next morning when he knocked on the door to ask if I needed tea. I had a dreamless sleep in my sweater, socks, jeans and monkey cap, beneath a thick blanket.
The Haryana family had, by then, vacated their room and I got the single room with two beds for myself. The window opened out to a beautiful view of the mountains. The boy charged me Rs 200 for the room. When I asked for hot water for bathing, he said people usually have their bath at the Tapt Kund and then go to the temple.
I was only too happy to leave the dingy room, again with just my green backpack with essentials for some unplanned walking for the day. Stepping out of the building, right in front of me, I was presented with a breathtaking view of one snow-covered peak of Badrinath, glistening with a golden hue, with the touch of the morning sun. No wonder it is called Dev Bhumi, the land of the gods, I thought. After a quick picture, couple of sips of chai and a packet of biscuits, I moved on.
The cold air in the morning did wonders to my system. I crossed the bridge over the Alaknanda and found my way to the Tapt Kund. The hot water sulphur spring flows into a cement tank.
Some boys having prasad stalls, offered to take care of my shoes, socks and bag. The caretaker even gave me a plastic bucket and cup. I took just my bathing clothes to the women’s bathing ghat.
Despite the language barrier, I made friends with the women bathing there instantly. One Gujarati woman jokingly said, “What job does a man have in a woman's bathing area!” She was referring to my closely cropped boy cut hairstyle!
During my journey, I did not want to be giving my hair too much attention. I laughed at the joke and quietly entered the Kund water that was bearably hot.