There are some journeys in life that mark us forever. This wasn't just a trip from Bhubaneswar to Prayagraj – it was a pilgrimage of the heart, carrying my father's ashes to their final resting place at the sacred confluence of three rivers.
The Early Morning Rush
We left the car parking at 3 AM, the city still wrapped in pre-dawn quiet. By 3:45, we had reached the airport, our small convoy of family members carrying not just luggage, but the weight of our mission. The police officer at the entrance was kind, allowing us in despite being nearly six hours early for our flight. Sometimes kindness comes when you need it most.
Inside the terminal, we found our corner and settled in. The waiting began – a long stretch of time that felt both endless and too short, knowing what lay ahead.
First Times and Nervous Laughs
Around 8 AM, the check-in process finally began. What followed was a comedy of errors that somehow felt exactly right for our family. For most of us except me, my wife and our daughter, this was first time flying for all others, and it showed. In all the confusion, I left the baby carrier on the wrong side and had to sheepishly ask the officers to retrieve it.
At the gate, my father in law had his first "airport chai" – that overpriced but somehow necessary ritual of travel. Meera was in her element, running around and pressing her face to the windows, watching planes arrive and depart like giant metal birds.
Taking Flight
Our 10 AM boarding call came, and we filed onto what turned out to be a turboprop aircraft – one of those smaller planes where you can actually see the propeller blades spinning outside your window. For a family of first-time flyers for most of us, it was both thrilling and terrifying. The mixed expressions on everyone's faces as we took off told the whole story – wonder, fear, excitement, and something deeper that comes with carrying your father's final journey in your heart.
Landing in the Holy City
Prayagraj welcomed us at noon with crisp winter air that made our decision to buy sweaters for everyone seem brilliant in hindsight. The baggage claim was another first for most of our group – watching our familiar bags emerge from the mechanical carousel felt almost magical to those who'd never experienced it.
Our vehicle arranged by the Math organizer where we are planning to stay was waiting outside, and somehow we all managed to fit inside with our bags and our precious cargo. The drive through Prayagraj's streets was a sensory overload – the sounds, the crowds, the ancient energy of a city that has witnessed countless such journeys.
Finding Peace at the Math
The Shree Roop Gaudiya Math became our temporary home, offering us a large room where we could all stay together. There's something comforting about being surrounded by family during times like these. We settled in, got ready, and prepared ourselves for what we'd come here to do.
The Sacred Ritual
At 2 PM, we made our way to the ghat. The people from the math had everything prepared, guiding us through each step with practiced patience. The head shaving came first – a physical transformation that somehow made the spiritual journey feel more real. Then came the asthi puja and pinda daan, rituals performed with thoroughness and reverence, even if everything felt heavily commercialized.
The walk to the ghat was quiet, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Our reserved boat waited to take us to the Triveni Sangam, that mystical point where three rivers meet and countless souls have found their final peace.
At the Confluence
The moment of immersing my father's ashes at the Triveni Sangam was indescribable. The boat had a well-designed platform that allowed each of us to take our ritual dip in the Ganga. The water was cold, shocking, cleansing. In that moment, surrounded by the flowing waters and my family, I felt my father's presence more strongly than I had since he left us.
It was, truly, a spiritual experience that transcended the commercial aspects and touched something eternal within each of us.
Returning to Earth
The journey back to the math felt different – lighter somehow, as if we'd successfully completed something important. Dinner was a quiet affair, filled with the kind of comfortable exhaustion that comes after fulfilling a sacred duty.
We spent some time chatting before bed, processing the day's experiences, sharing quiet observations about the journey, the rituals, and the strange peace that comes with doing right by those we love. Sleep came early and deeply.
Some trips are about seeing new places. Others are about coming home to yourself. This journey to Prayagraj was both – a first flight for most of us, a new city to explore, but ultimately a homecoming for my father's soul and a healing journey for ours.
Tomorrow we'll wake up in this holy city, but today we fulfilled a promise, honored a tradition, and sent spirit of my father to rest in the eternal flow of sacred waters. Sometimes the most important journeys aren't about the destination – they're about carrying love forward, one sacred step at a time.
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