The Sacred Pause: A Trek to Where the World slows down
Some walks get you a gold star on your fitness app. Others sneak up and rearrange your soul.
This one? It did both and threw in a few laughs for good measure.
It was a muggy Sunday evening, June 22, 2025, the kind of day where most folks were sprawled on couches, recovering from brunch mimosas or lost in the algorithm’s latest binge-worthy trap. Sagar Da, Plabon Da, and I had a wilder plan: a barefoot hike to the Maa Kamakhya Temple during Ambubachi Mela, a spiritual whirlwind that’s half divine timeout, half cosmic reset. Spoiler alert: it was less zen monks gliding uphill and more three desk jockeys dodging puddles and crises.
The Crew: Not Exactly Dalai Lama Material
Sagar da our in-house philosopher and unshakable presence walked ahead with the kind of calm that you only read about in Upanishads. Plabon da, ever the comic relief, provided laughs at just the right moments, turning even fatigue into something bearable. And me? I was somewhere in between awe and analytics, occasionally checking our pace & elevation.
Ambubachi: When the Goddess Hits Pause
If Ambubachi Mela isn’t on your radar, buckle up. It’s a four-day festival where Maa Kamakhya the goddess of creation, the ultimate badass of fertility takes her annual menstruation break. Yup, you heard me. In a world that still whispers about periods like it’s a state secret, this temple says, Hold my prasad, we’re celebrating it. For four days, the temple doors close. No prayers, no rituals, just stillness. The goddess rests, and the universe gets the memo to chill.
It’s the only festival I know where nothing happens, yet it draws thousands—saints, seekers, skeptics, and slightly confused first-timers like us into its orbit. Why? Because it’s not about doing. It’s about being. And let me tell you, that’s harder than it sounds when your inbox is screaming and your feet are screaming louder.
Barefoot and Barely Prepared
We ditched our sneakers at the trailhead, not because we were trying to flex some spiritual muscle, but because it felt right. Like signing a contract with the earth: You give us mud, we give you trust. Every step was a negotiation sharp pebbles, slippery slopes, the occasional squelch of monsoon muck. It wasn’t comfy, but it was honest. Each gritty step stripped away a layer of noise: deadlines, doubts, that nagging voice asking if I’d left the stove on.
Sagar da strode ahead, radiating calm like he was auditioning for a guru cameo. Plabon da, meanwhile, was workshopping: If this is enlightenment, why does it feel like a pedicure from a lawnmower? I laughed, winced, and kept walking, my brain ping-ponging between 'This is profound' and Why didn’t I wear ultimate Frido sock shoe?
The Stats (Because I’m That Guy):
Distance: 9.42 km
Steps: 16069
Time: Almost 4 hours and 3:47:27 to be precise
Elevation: 209 meters of pure character-building
Footwear: Just vibes and calluses
Baggage: Ego, overthinking, and a protein bar I forgot to take from the fridge
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Kamakhya: Where Divinity Whispers, Not Roars
The temple isn’t what you’d call Insta-bait. No golden spires or neon signs yelling 'Miracles Here'! Just a quiet complex carved into Nilachal Hill, housing a yoni-shaped stone fed by an underground spring. It’s not a statue; it’s a presence. A reminder that creation isn’t loud or fussy it’s steady, raw, eternal.
You don’t storm into Kamakhya expecting a PowerPoint from the goddess. You show up, expectations on mute, and something clicks. Not fireworks or divine DMs, but a clarity that lands like a deep exhale you didn’t know you were holding. In that moment, you don’t pray to the goddess you see her in the damp air, the flicker of oil lamps, the rhythm of your own pulse. It’s like the universe winks and says, 'You’re in on it now'.
The Pause That Rewires You
Ambubachi isn’t about the temple or the trek. It’s about the pause. The sacred, stubborn act of stopping not to scroll, not to hustle, but to be. In a world obsessed with 'next', this festival dares to say, 'Not now'. The goddess rests, and we’re invited to do the same. It’s a masterclass in surrender, not as defeat, but as strength. A reminder that healing whether it’s your thoughts, your heart, or your overworked Wi-Fi brain starts when you let the noise settle.
This ties to what we’ve been chewing on: healing your thoughts to heal yourself. That 9.5-km slog wasn’t just a workout; it was a mental declutter. Every step chipped away at the mental static fear, distraction, that sneaky imposter syndrome until what was left was just me. Muddy, tired, and weirdly at peace.
The Win: Not a Finish Line, But a Starting Point
We started the day with big talk and soggy socks. We ended it with grit under our nails, quiet in our heads, and the kind of bond that only comes from surviving a barefoot marathon together. I loved the idea that 'We didn’t find God, but I’m pretty sure She knows our address now'.
This walk wasn’t about reaching the temple. It was about coming back to ourselves. About learning that the sacred isn’t 'out there' it’s in the pause, the pain, the punchline shared at kilometer 7. It’s in the choice to keep walking, even when your feet vote no.
So yeah, we trekked. Barefoot. Uphill. Little in the rain.
And somewhere between the mud and the miracles, we found a truth worth keeping: Sometimes, the best way to move forward is to stop and let the world catch its breath.
Your Turn: When’s the last time you hit pause not to quit, but to reset? What did you find in the stillness? Drop your story below - I’m all ears (and slightly blistered feet).
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