Rishikesh: something about that name stirred my emotions before I ever set foot in this vibrant, spiritual city, with Mother Ganga flowing right through her heart and lush green mountains rising up on all sides; after spending a total of ten days here in the last month, it feels like home. Take a walk with me.

Before departing Hotel Shiva Yog Sthal, we chat with the two owners who are always a pleasant presence in the lobby. One of them, a gentle man of small stature, wears a colorful skull cap and shares that he is a master astrologer. I ask him if we have any control over our fate or if free will is just a mirage in this cosmic drama.

“No control,” he says emphatically and with a sympathetic smile. He offers to read my stars if I give him my birth date and place of birth. I laugh and decline, telling him things are going too well for me to disturb the universe.

Outside evening settles into the nooks and alleyways of the city like the calming exhale of breath before deep meditation. We stroll about a hundred feet down a very narrow, stone passageway, briefly playing with the two boys who are always outside racing about. Watch out for the piles of cow dung and scooters squeezing past. Some bricks smash onto the pavement ten feet in front of us, falling from work above. A man stops us then waves us on.

Before stepping onto the main artery of Laxman Jhula, look left, my friend, then right, then left again. You don’t want to get plowed over by any of the innumerable scooters zooming past with horns blaring, or the occasional jeep trying to push its way through this narrow lane bounded on all sides by shops overflowing with jewelry, incense, soaps, oils, spices, clothing, fabrics and a plethora of exotic goods. Street vendors flip spicy dishes in woks and sell milk tea in clay cups. Sadhus wander along in their ochre robes and long beards swinging metal pots in which they collect their dinner. Cows nose up to us before dipping their heads into the doorways of their favorite shops.

We stop and buy oranges and bananas from the usual cart where a woman has befriended us; this evening she offers laundry services. “No, thank you,” I tell her. “I wash my own by hand,” and perform a scrubbing motion, to which she says good, good, handing me a slice of fruit to eat. A little further on we dip into the bakery and say hello to our new friend, Pradeep, from Darjeeling. We buy two huge chocolate balls — which are da BOMB — and he asks if I am going to sing a Bon Jovi song, having told me before that I share a resemblance with this singer (second person to say that in the last week!). “No!” I cry. “Never!”

A bit further on we stop to say hello to Rohit and the collection of men who hang out at his rental shop/hotel/restaurant. Rohit rented me the motorcycle for my two-week journey and is friends with Ravi from Sattva Yoga Academy, who we know from the Wheels of Awakening Tour. Ravi is a fearless rider the like of which we have never seen. We will stop back at Rohit’s restaurant later for dinner. The restaurant is always packed and we will easily find company at one of the large tables. Everyone here treats us like we are family.

We wave to some other familiar faces before crossing over Lakshman Jhula suspension bridge. All along the river worshipers are coming together to perform ceremonies featuring chanting, singing, incense, bells, and fire. Lights illuminate the sacred banks of the Ganga. Once across the bridge, we work our way uphill in bustling Tapovan to the Vanamali Gita Yogashram. Here we let ourselves in through a simple gate, pass a small temple on the right, take our shoes off and enter the kitchen of a small house. I work my way upstairs to a warm meditation room that embraces you with its lovely shrine, pictures, books, carpets, cushions and smiling faces.

This is the ashram of Mataji Devi Vanamali who has written over 20 books on the gods of the Hindi pantheon, as well as the rishis, avatars, and other sacred figures of India. I read her work on the life of Krishna and fell in love with both Krishna and her writing. When I learned that she lived in Rishikesh, I vowed to find her. It is a small miracle that I have entered into her life with such ease!

After a period of meditation we sing some songs together. A young man next to me shares a page of lyrics. Two cute little girls and a boy enter the room and sit next to Mataji. Mataji then asks if anyone would like to sing. A woman shares a song from her homeland in South Africa. The guy next to me sings. With great trepidation I offer a song from Yogananda. Miraculously, it goes off well.

Afterwards, I speak with Mataji. She is such a lovely saint. What a wonderful vibration just to be next to her. I buy one of her books on the lives of famous rishis and she signs it. I then ask her about the guru of Lord Rama and his brothers, the great sage Vashishta, and if it is the same Vashishta whose meditation cave is located just 20 kilometers from here and which I visited a few weeks ago (you can read about that here).

“Yes,” she giggles, “We have only one Vashishta.”

I then remark that many say Jesus meditated in those very caves. Has she ever seen evidence that Jesus lived in India? This question gets the exact response I had hope for, enlivening her into a deep discussion of Jesus’s life in India.

“Of course,” she exclaims. There is more and more evidence showing that he spent many of those 14 missing years here.” She shared a wealth of information with me that I will share later. She then invited me to sign up for her blog and take part in her online events. A few other attendants stood nearby and smiled warmly at me. I felt so at home here. What a dream.

Walking back to the hotel, I clutched the book and let the vibrations of this wondrous city soothe my soul. Such a heavenly domain I have never visited! Rishikesh, I will miss you, but I will be back!!