Everything about Kumily was amazing! The scenery was amazing, the weather was amazing, and the people were- yeah, you guessed it- amazing!
We arrived to Kumily in the later hours of the night and were instantly greeted by the locals. Abbas, a nearby resident (above), offered to take us to a well known guesthouse where we stayed the night. During the next two days we took a jeep jungle safari, a jungle trek, a boat ride on a lake, an Indian spice tour, and a tea plantation tour- each being an adventure in and of itself. For me however, the highlight of Kumily was connecting with Abbas and the local Muslim community. After finding out I come from a Muslim family, Abbas, a Muslim himself, became extremely excited and asked me to join him for prayer at a nearby mosque the next day. I accepted his offer although I felt a little hesitant about going because I wasn’t sure how the local Muslims would respond to a white westerner coming into their place of worship. The moment I walked into the mosque the next day, all the anxiety I had previously felt went away. I was immediately welcomed with smiles and handshakes by not only Abbas’ closest friends, but also by the Imam, an Islamic religious leader. It seemed as though they were that much more thrilled that I was actually Caucasian. The warmth and happiness I felt radiating from every person I met that day was so welcoming. I felt more at home here than I did anywhere else in India!
After finishing up the afternoon prayer and having a deep spiritual conversation with his friends, Abbas and his closest friend Abdullah offered to take me to a nearby Islamic school where I could talk to someone the Muslims in Kumily considered ‘very important.’ I was having such a great time at the mosque that I couldn’t refuse, so we got into a rickshaw and left.
Driving over, I couldn’t help but wonder who they were taking me to. I wanted to ask, but the engine was too loud and the view was too amazing to ignore. As the road took us up the mountain, it curved along the contour lines of the hills, offering breathtaking views of the tea farms below. I could see green, my favorite color, everywhere. After about 15 minutes, we stopped at the side of the road and got out. I noticed a narrow pathway leading up to what I assumed to be the school- it was perched up on a small hill overlooking the entire valley below. A group of young men (Muslim students who came from all over India, as I later learned) greeted us at the door and directed us towards a larger common room in the school. It was a very small and intimate school; probably less than 5,000 sq ft of actual building- about the size of an NBA basketball court. The common room was a little dark as I first walked in- an open door with a view to the valley below was the only source of natural light. I walked towards the door not because of the light, but because I could see the dark silhouette of a man sitting against the doorframe. I didn’t have my glasses on, but from a distance I could see that his legs were crossed, that he had a long beard, and that he was facing us.
“Please have a seat,” he said as he gestured to the space on the floor directly in front of him. I sat down Indian style (no pun intended) less than three feet away from him. Abbas, Abdullah, and the rest of the students sat down in a semi-circle around us, with the two of us being closest to the door and the light. I could now see that he was an older man, probably in his mid to late sixties. His dark skin contrasted his white, yet not-so-dense beard. But unlike his beard, he looked short and heavy-set. He introduced himself as Muhammad, an Islamic teacher, world traveler, and servant of God; he explained that he goes around the world sharing God’s message. He then asked me a few general questions, in nearly perfect English, about where I come from, whom I was travelling with, and what I was doing in India. The whole time I was there in that room, I felt a sense of peace and quiet unlike that I felt anywhere else in India. There were no sounds of car horns or city traffic. No animals on the street. No street vendors trying to sell you the next thing you really didn’t need….maybe it was because we were in a smaller town or that we were up in the hills and away from everyone. Whatever the reason, there was something about being in that school at that moment that felt exactly right. I can’t say for a fact if it was God, but the energy in there was undeniable. I felt relieved for some reason- And I was happy.
After talking for about 10 minutes, Muhammad asked if I could join the students for lunch. We left the common room and went into a smaller room to eat. Once again sitting on the floor, we circled around a large plate of food- four to five people per plate. They could obviously tell this wasn’t something I was used to. My legs and feet were starting to hurt from sitting on the floor for so long, and I was making a mess trying to eat with my hands. One of the students mentioned that sharing food from a common plate helps you feel compassion for those you are eating with. And it made sense. We were sharing food with one another in a very personal and communal social dynamic. We finished eating, cleaned up, said our goodbyes and were gone just like that. Everything that happened that day, happened for a reason I believe. Leaving Kumily with Crystal and Candice that afternoon felt different from the previous towns we had visited. For the first time, I felt a little sad about getting on the bus for the next city. I wanted to stay a little longer but we didn't have time; we had to keep moving. We needed to be in Hubli in less than a week and we still had five other cities we wanted to go to! So towards Alleppey we went…
-Zlatan
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