During times where we were not on official duty, we spent our spare time (early mornings or evenings) in the Mahabodhi Temple. It was a lot warmer than a week ago while we were here with the Mahaparinirvan Express. Pilgrims from all over the world gather here; either to pay homage to the Great One, to meditate or simply be around and immersing themselves into the abundant positive energy the temple possesses. Although visitors stream in and out whole day, the temple is filled with peace and tranquillity; it was totally unlike the town itself where vehicles horned and people shouted at one another.

Although opening hours is restricted to 4am to 9pm daily, it is actually possible to stay overnight in the temple by registering (fee: Rs100/S$3.23) at the temple office. Mosquitoes could be a real deterrent here; when I was trying to meditate just as the last light was fading out, I opened my eyes and saw a battalion of mosquitoes hovering around me. Not all the mosquitoes were trying to get under my skin but the thought of it kind of put me off (perhaps I require a lot more practice to understand "anatta" or non-self). A simple mosquito net would have solved the problem though my bouts of Delhi Belly gave me a good excuse to do this another time. I lost my "chance" of inching my way towards enlightenment.

On hindsight, it must had been my fortune and good karma ripening to enable me to spend 2 weeks out in India on a Buddhist Pilgrimage while given an opportunity to source for humanitarian projects in a place where Lord Buddha was enlightened. I often thought of the conditions that was needed to be realised before I could do this; resignation from my previous job, my luck and timing in finding my current job, an opportunity to fly to India for free, so on and so forth. This list could go on and on. It was not all fun though; my bouts of diarrhea and the summer heat were making me seriously homesick and thinking of all comforts back home. I was glad I did not give up afterall.

As the Jet Airways flight departed from Indira Gandhi International Airport in New Delhi, my mind wondered if I would ever come back to India again. I vaguely recalled the same question being asked as I left Bangalore just more than a year ago. Unlike other destinations, I just get this weird feeling that I would be back someday. The next logical question, of course, is when? No one could predict what would happen next, but is it really important to forsee the future?