Reading Time: 16 minutes It was the spring of 2005. I was enjoying a late-night stroll on the barren Ghats of the otherwise busy Har Ki Pauri. The nomadic waters of the river Ganga, shimmering in the neon lights of the sleepy temples, was flowing briskly, rubbing shoulders with its stone-hearted steps. Haridwar is a city that is paved with stories of Indian mythology. Every temple here tells a different tale, every alley narrates a new allegory. I was walking under a new moon night, and the sky – gilded with a billion stars – was dazzling like a newly-wed bride. As I reached …
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