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Now of course, trees do not speak. At least, not in the usual way, though sometimes, when the wind stirs in them, they are known to sing songs that are soft and shifting, but to the creatures, both old and new, there is an understanding of the language of trees and grasses and leaves, old as time itself – the Green Language.
He wished from his soul that this melancholy game of Shuffle would end, and give him peace in his bones.
Shaved and robed loonies from all nations wander the streets, fill all the ashrams, and sit around at all the coffee shops. It’s quite fantastic.
One part tourist destination, river-rafting hotspot, and one part mental asylum, Rishikesh is a world on its own.