That night we were very tired afte 2 days of walking up the mointain. We went to bed with the night’s fall. In the deep nigh flashes were crossing the sky from end to end. The rain was clearing the heavy atmosphere of the day’s heat and dust of labor. There have been cloudbusts every night since we left Kathmandu and we knew that the next day the Sun will walk again with it’s warm along our way.
Me and Ina have been awake since midnight making company with the storm. It was already 3.30 – the rain was pouring and the wind was blowing your hat off. In one hour we should be starting our hike up the mountain, but our hopes were low to the ground. We decided to at least enjoy our comfortable warm beds while keeping an eye opened for our luck. At 4 a.m. by sheer chance I looked out the window and saw that we have been offered as through miracle the blessing of the clear starry sky.
At the appointed time, one hour and a half before the sunrise we stepped on the path to Poonhill. This was the the highest place from which one could take part in what was about to be unrolled.
We were not the only pilgrims in search for the precious gift of awe, the moment when Aurora, the goddess of the Golden Dawn, opens the way for the Sun before the gates of the icy mountains.
After one hour of walking up hundreds or thousands of steps put together by who knows how many generations before us we reach Poonhill at 3200m altitude. Meanwhile Aurora, the youngest of the goddesses, was throwing it’s charmed vail over the sky, fading the night and making way for the day.
We were there maybe 100 people watching full of amazement the play between the Aurora and Annapurna, son of Shiva and Parvati. The light was revealing his body which was created by his mother. She blessed it to be a giver of food for all its inhabitants. His head, gray haired human-goat like, was given by his father. His spirit inspires deadly fear for the ones who dare to approach him and many have died in it’s claws.
Still, living in these places are coragious humans that have been passing on for generations the rites necessary for receiving the abundant gifts of Annapurna’s body. Some of those wake up long before anyone else. They prepare all sorts of teas, bottle them in thermoses and carry them up the mountain for everyone to get a hot drink in the chilly morning.
While they were serving tea ceremoniously as in all days, we were suspended in a time that was passing with the movements of the Sun’s light, with the shadows and clouds.
We use to come to such sacred places to take part in the rituals of Nature. We come to gaze into the horizon where night and day, death and life stop time for a moment and open the space to a new reality.