The slow warriors

On a quest to find themselves, a growing tribe of Indians is giving up the fast life

- Anjuly Mathai and Sumitra Nair

In the beginning, our trek to Urvi Earth Centre in Vattavada, Kerala, is poetic, as all treks initially are. As we trudge a mud path that cuts through the forest, we ooh and aah at the waterfalls and the pristine meadows. The sky is rimmed deep copper, as though it is rusting at the edge. Slowly the path grows treacherous and our breathing grows laboured. As dusk gathers, the land assumes a dishevelled look. We realise we are walking deeper into the forest. Overhead, the wheeling birds turn into silhouettes and the darkness grows clamorous with insect calls.

It is with much relief that we welcome the sight of Bodhi, Urvi’s founder. He expresses no surprise at seeing two mud-splattered ragamuffins waiting by the stony track—suitcase in hand, forlorn expressions in place—and wordlessly leads us the rest of the way to the holistic nature and art retreat centre.

In his flowing pants, shepherd’s staff and hair pulled into a tight bun, Bodhi could have been a Biblical prophet sent to save lost souls, which we might very well have been. And we are not the only ones, either. There are others: an engineer from Thiruvananthapuram, a photographer from Wayanad, an artist from Bengaluru, a single mother who works at ISRO…. We are all there to soak in the charm of Urvi and its founder. Languidly clustered around a fire, hugging ourselves as the night grows chilly, we talk about our lives and our aspirations. Over pancakes served on steel plates, each of us tells why we are there. And that is when something strikes us: everyone who comes to Urvi is a seeker. They are not just there for the stunning beauty of the land or for the camping experience. They are there to fill a void within themselves. They are there to find meaning.