Toto, we are not at the Ashram anymore...

After two weeks of being held by the gentle land of Kerala, it's time to set out.
The signs and visuals of India are as confusing as every answer and head bob
that I encounter. Figuring out which train car my seat is in is no exception. As soon as I settle into a seat that I know isn't mine I'm surrounded by families and young eager boys who need to know my name and shake my hand. A skinny aged woman wrapped in a Sari plants herself next to me and asks with unstopable curiosity, "What caste are you from?" Uuuuhhhhh...
Following a round of his own questions and dialogue a kind fellow tells me I'm sitting in the local car, and that he would take me to me to the right place "where this won't happen." The next 10 hours were a hilarious circle of musical sleeping compartments as the seat numbers
would magically and so rationally be changed as new passengers got on.
I arrived in Madurai to greet the sun coming up over the Sri Menakshi temple.
This temple is over 3,000 years old, and you can feel it all pulsating in layers of shakti dust and ancient smells.