in search of holy water.

Arvind and I took our final hike together before we make our visa run to the States in a couple weeks.  Driving east of our city, and past two small towns where two pastors were recently threatened, we arrived at a temple tucked away in a wooded climb.

The town is neatly divided between Muslims and Hindus.  Squat, domed mosques with sea-green minarets face towering, colorful temples.  One is image-less.  The other teeters with roughly designed figures of armed gods.  One is color-sparing.  The other explodes with every conceivable hue.  One is attended by black burkas.  The other, brightly flowing saris.

There is power in their contrast.  They are a pair of religions born in different worlds, from different eras, thrust into a shared neighborhood by a sordid, bloody history.

We made our way up concrete steps to a Hindu temple built atop a fresh spring.  Men and women bathed and filled jugs.  It is believed that the water washes away sin. 

Beyond the temple we spotted lots of wildlife – lizards, monkeys, and a variety of birds including wild peacocks.  It was a great trek.