Day 2: Home at Last

Written by: Samanvi Kotagiri

Introduction:

I wake up to a gentle tap on my shoulder. Startled, I sit up quickly as my senses come alive. The first full day at camp is here, and I can barely hold in my excitement. As I groggily prepare for the day, I can feel the anticipation buzzing inside me. Stepping out of Babuji Hall, I'm immediately met by the serene sight of Baba’s face. The morning sunlight filters through the lush foliage, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. I inhale deeply, savoring the earthy aroma of damp soil and fresh greenery. The path to the mandir is bordered by tall bamboo stalks, their leaves rustling as if sharing secrets. The vibrant greenery is a soothing departure from the bustle of city life, enveloping me like a comforting blanket. Each step feels like a heartfelt journey back home. The distant birdsong and the soft whispers of the breeze make me feel at ease, reinforcing the sense that I truly belong here. As I walk towards Baba Mandir, a content smile spreads across my face, and I cherish the wish that this moment might last forever.

Mulberry Tea:

After the morning Baba abhishekam and arati, we Geckos make our way to the fire pit, our excitement building with each step. When we arrive, we're welcomed by the delicious scent of our first tea of the week: mulberry tea! Its rich, fruity aroma blends with the morning air, making our mouths water. The tea, a deep crimson color, offers a sweet and tangy taste that matches the day's crispness. We're told that every day will begin with a different tea, and today's mulberry tea feels like a perfect start to our week. Sipping it while hearing about the day's plans—farm walks and crafts—we feel a growing sense of belonging. The familiar camp sights and sounds, along with the tea's warmth, make everything feel just right.

⁠Farm walk :

Our first activity of the day was the farm walk, and as we stepped into the open fields, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. I've spent the past year wishing for this moment—the sun warming my back and the familiar sight of Arunachala on the horizon. We began by picking Singapore cherries straight from the trees, turning it into a friendly contest to find the sweetest ones. Our laughter and chatter filled the air as we moved on to the mango grove, eager for the next adventure. Akka demonstrated how to check if a mango was ripe—how to gently press it to see if it yielded slightly.

Today, Ammamma and the aunties treated us to a breakfast of masala idlis. As we walked into the kitchen, the warm, inviting aroma of spices and freshly cooked food enveloped us. The scent of mustard seeds sizzling in oil, the earthy fragrance of curry leaves, and the rich, spicy aroma of the masala blended together, making our stomachs rumble with anticipation. The kitchen, with its cozy, homely feel, was a hub of activity. Ammamma, with her gentle smile, stood at the stove, watching the idlis and ensuring they were just right. The kitchen itself was filled with the comforting clatter of pots and pans, the soft hum of conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter from the aunties. As we gathered around our pitas each of us eagerly dug into the steaming, masala idlis. The idlis, soft and fluffy, were infused with a spicy, aromatic masala that made every bite a delight. Between mouthfuls, we shared stories and laughter, savoring not just the delicious food but the comforting feeling of being surrounded by friends.

Microgreens: 

After a satisfying breakfast, we headed to GTR for our first activity of the day: growing our own microgreens. As we entered the activity area, each of us was handed a small, unassuming clay pot, its surface cool and slightly rough against our fingertips. Akka, with her warm, encouraging demeanor, demonstrated the process with practiced ease. She began by carefully layering the bottom of the pot with vermi, a kind of fine, nutrient-rich material created by worms, followed by a fluffy, dark brown layer of coco peat. The texture of the vermi was slightly gritty, while the coco peat was soft and spongy. With precise movements, Akka spread a thin, even layer of mustard seeds on one side of the pot and fenugreek seeds on the other, their tiny, round shapes nestled into the layers below.

We watched intently, absorbing every detail of her technique. The aroma of the seeds, a mix of earthy and slightly spicy notes, filled the air. When it was our turn, we took our pots and carefully followed Akka’s instructions. We spread the vermi and coco peat with steady hands, ensuring each layer was just right. The mustard seeds and fenugreek seeds were placed with similar care, creating a neat division within the pot. As we worked, the sense of anticipation built—imagining the tiny seeds growing into vibrant microgreens. The process was both relaxing and exciting, a simple yet rewarding task that connected us to the earth. The sight of our pots, each one a small, personal project, lined up together made the day feel fresh and full of potential.

Making artistic claypots for our future Haritachala Bakery:  

For our next activity, we were excited to make clay pottery for the currently empty room which we lovingly call our “bakery”. After brainstorming, we decided on creating three medium-sized plates and three vases. We split into groups, and I joined the team working on the plates. I thought it would be easy, but as soon as we started, I realized just how challenging it was. The edges were tough to get right, and keeping the plates even was difficult. Despite the difficulties, we worked together, sharing tips and encouraging one another. Slowly but surely, the plates started to come together, resulting in three somewhat uniform plates. Once finished, we placed them next to our microgreens to air dry.

 The process had been challenging, but seeing our creations side by side, ready for the next step, made every effort worthwhile. Our next activity involved starting on the murals for the bakery walls. With printed design sheets and carbon paper, we gathered to plan out our approach. The task ahead felt ambitious, but we were eager to get started. The process began with the meticulous job of taping the printed designs onto the walls. With nearly fifteen of us crammed into the small bakery, the heat quickly became stifling.

The room, crowded and buzzing with activity, felt almost like an oven under the peak daylight. The lack of air conditioning made the sweltering heat even more intense, and sweat trickled down our faces as we worked. Just when we were starting to feel overwhelmed by the heat, the Uncles and Annas came to the rescue. They brought in two coolers, a welcome relief from the sweltering heat. Although the coolers were far from perfect, the refreshing breeze they provided was like a gust of relief. We gratefully welcomed the temporary relief, feeling the cool air revive our spirits and help us focus on the task at hand. With renewed energy, we continued the laborious process of tracing our designs onto the walls, the coolers humming softly in the background.

 The sight of our sketches beginning to come to life on the bakery walls, combined with the cooler air, made the effort feel more worthwhile. As we worked, the sense of teamwork and determination made even the heat and discomfort seem like part of the journey towards creating something beautiful. Our efforts in the bakery were rewarded with the breathtaking Haritachala sunset. I admired the sky, painted in deep reds, warm oranges, and soft purples, blending seamlessly into the approaching night. After taking in the view, I made my way to the community kitchen, where a medley of flavorful, nourishing dishes filled the air. While we had been busy at the bakery, our Aunties and Uncles had been hard at work preparing dinner, creating an atmosphere that felt as comforting as home. The room buzzed with warmth and laughter, like a gathering of one big family.

After dinner, we joined in for the evening arati, our voices rising in unison, carrying the spirit of devotion through the night.

Gratitude Circle

One of my favorite traditions at camp—both this year and the last—was ending the day with the gratitude circle. There’s something truly special about the entire camp coming together, sharing laughter and heartfelt reflections over warm saffron tea. I often caught myself sifting through the day's moments, searching for just the right one to share. It became a playful competition, as we all eagerly expressed overlapping and shared reflections. As our glasses of saffron tea emptied and our conversations meandered into lighthearted chatter, the night slowly settled around us. That familiar feeling of belonging swept over me. It felt good to be back.