Here and there, I came across some orange silhouettes, on a bike, on foot, or hugging against the trunk of a tree, oblivious to the Indians passing by who craned their necks to avoid missing the slightest thing. Often abandoned, nestled in gardens overgrown with tall grass and weeds, they exuded an old-world charm full of grandeur and poetry. In the middle of this haven of greenery and tranquility, magnificent colonial mansions recalled the opulent era of the British Raj. Every time I entered its shady paths, a soft tranquility descended on me. ![]() Fortunately, the ashram was in the residential area of Koregaon Park, away from the dense and furious traffic of the city of Poona, which already had several million inhabitants.
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