The Bus Ride
The bus was packed with people and their belongings. Most of the women were dressed in brightly colored saris.* Many of the men were wearing traditional clothes and had colorful turbans on their heads. They had full mustaches that curled at each end. The rainbow colors of their clothing gave the inside of the bus a festive look.

Though most passengers were strangers to each other, we quickly became like a big family traveling together. Some people shared food, and others passed young children and babies around, perhaps to give the mothers a rest. The children were happy and contented to be entertained by total strangers - even by me!

I knew I was far from my home in the United States when I watched a man take off his turban. To my surprise, I saw that on top of his head was his lunch. It was several flat pieces of bread called chapatis* and a few carrots. I had never seen anyone use a turban and his head as a lunchbox!

I Meet a Monk
Our rickety old bus chugged up the rugged mountain and finally we arrived at Mt. Abu. I was staying in a Hindu* monastery that is called an ashram.*

An old monk greeted me at the door. He was a tall man with a long, gray beard and gray hair. He wore a wool sweater, a cotton wrap-around skirt called a lungi,* and a pair of sandals. I wondered how he stayed warm on such a cold winter's day. What attracted me most was the friendly sparkle in his eyes.

After dinner, we sat around a small fire. The monk told me that he had spent many years as a hermit living in a forest and praying to God. "The Lord is my provider. I don't need to own anything to be happy," he said to me.

As I lay in bed before I fell asleep, I thought about something else the monk had said: "All men are my brothers and every woman is my mother."