Santosh Puri Ashram turned out to be exactly what we were looking for, although we still spent half of our time wondering what we were doing there... We spent 12 nights almost completely cut-off from the outside world. Besides our active thoughts, our company was a small and friendly spiritual community, some good natured vegetarian dogs and beautiful gardens filled with birds of every colour! In the end we decided we were both balanced enough, and too attached to the world that we live in, so we left this blissful haven to get back to our own reality.

The story of this ashram is an inspiring account of determination and self discovery. In the 70's a 24 year old German girl had a dream, and hitchhiked to India in search of her own naked ash-covered guru. She had almost given up when she stumbled upon Santosh Puri, a renunciate living on an island in the middle of the Ganges river. She joined him, and for the next 10 years together they meditated, nurtured cows and almost starved to death on this island, striving to achieve spiritual enlightenment. The German girl was born again Hindu and renamed Navarda. It went against their philosophy of strict detachment, but they eventually married and had three children, named after three sacred Indian rivers; Ganga, Mandakini and Alaknanda.

As family, friends and the local Hindu community became aware of their unique situation, money was donated, and they began to build an ashram on the banks of the Ganges. Narvada's German mother and sister were so inspired that they followed suit and moved to India to also renounce and live a life of detachment. The children were supported through school with the help of regular donations from visitors to the ashram, although they never adopted their parents lifestyle right away.

Ganga, the oldest son, would recount to us and other guests with a tear in his eye about the death of his father. The family see it as nothing short of a miracle that Santosh Puri, affectionately known as Babaji, left his body voluntarily in 2001. After announcing his last blessings and prayers, Babaji started to meditate... On the fourth breath, Ganga and his family witnessed their fathers spirit leave his body. From then on they fully understood what their parents were trying to achieve, and have since dedicated their lives to the ashram, teaching guests and foreigners about the benefits of meditation, yoga and spirituality.

Because Babaji was an enlightened, holy man, and it was certain that his spirit had been released, his body was buried rather than cremated. He was buried in the meditative lotus position from which he breathed his last breath, and a temple was built above his grave in honour of everything that he represented; detachment, spiritual devotion and contentment.

Narvada Puri, affectionately known as Mataji, is now head Guru of the Santosh Puri Ashram. She humbly wears the loose orange cloth, meditation beads and dreadlocks, and leads the aarti (prayers) at 5am every morning and 7pm every evening. The entire family seemed well respected amongst the local spiritual community, and every night our Aarti's attracted locals and even the odd Sadhu taking a rest from his pilgrimage.

To really get the full experience, we immersed ourselves into the entire daily routine. At 4.30am we would drag ourselves out of bed for silent meditation around the Duni fire. At around 5am we would slowly warm up our voices with a series of mantras and prayers. At 6am Ganga would show us all the best traditional Indian methods for cleansing our bodies of toxins. We chewed on bitter neem tree sticks, stuck our fingers down our throats to bring up mucous, and poured warm salty water up one nostril and out the other. He even explained in detail the methods and benefits of 'releasing the stool' as soon as you wake up in the morning.

Spiritually awakened and fully cleansed we would walk down to the river with the dogs to bathe and watch the sun rise. At 8am we would stretch out all our aching joints in a relaxing two hour Hatha yoga class, followed by morning tea in the sun. Before lunch we'd improve our karma with a bit of selfless service. This usually involved sweeping and mopping, but towards the end of our stay we got involved in something a little more practical. We built a stone retaining wall in an attempt to tidy up the pile of garbage that is piling up day by day over the back fence. It still amazes us that people spend so much time praising and singing about the river, yet they don't hesitate to throw all of their rubbish straight over the fence, to be washed away by their sacred Mata Ganga as soon as the wet season arrives!

The rest of the day passed more slowly. We'd sit on the floor to eat a hearty vegetarian lunch in silence at about 1pm, either read or sleep for an hour or two, practice yogic meditative breathing in a Pranayama class at 4pm, watch the sunset over the garden, sit on the floor again for a light dinner at 6.30pm, and chant, sing and offer fruit to the gods at evening Aarti from 7pm. All of this left us pretty exhausted and we slipped into a blissful sleep not later than 9.30pm each night.

Not being used to such an intense routine, we often felt like zombies by mid afternoon. However, we found that after a few days, we really enjoyed waking before the sun and were amazed at how much one could achieve in a day. We also took advantage of the library and soaked up all we could on the concept of the doshas and Ayurvedic-based Indian healthy living. Jess was so drawn in by this ancient health science that she is planning on taking an Ayurvedic-based oil massage and nutrition class back in Rishikesh.

We spent most of our time confined within the walls of the ashram, but did manage to get out for a walk around the area once or twice. Apparently Santosh Puri Ashram was one of the first in the area, and 30 years ago they had wild elephants regularly trampling through their crops. Now there are literally thousands of Ashrams and temples in and around Haridwar. With all these religious places, it wasn't surprising that every second stranger was dressed in orange. It was comforting, however to see these Sadhus living simply with the support of their followers and other ashrams, rather than harassing tourists.

Another thing we soon discovered was that holy people are not usually cremated. Their souls are considered to have already left the body so it's not considered necessary. Unlike Babaji, most of the Sadhus are (somewhat unceremoniously) thrown into the river. Although they are weighed down with stones, sometime the knots fail and the bodies float to the surface, evidence of which we witnessed first hand. It's a good thing our senses have been numbed in the past year.

So, with a good understanding of what it means to be a Hindu, and some fresh new yoga asanas to work on, we're on our way back to Rishikesh. This time we'll be seeing the pilgrim's city with different eyes.