A trip to Rajasthan, a tribute to my inner child.

This writing is dedicated to the inner child that we all carry inside. Especially the inner child of Álvaro and Martha, my parents, whom I deeply love and honor.

Thanks to India for inviting me to live this wonderful encounter with my inner child.

And thanks to Mohit for taking me to see the land of his ancestors.

It is typical day in India, women hurriedly walk in their colorful sarees, a man sings in the distance from a temple, tuk tuks dodge traffic at high speed, cows rest sitting in the middle of the road, and stray dogs look for food with a sad and scared look. As I offer them food, their eyes hit my heart. I repeat this scene day by day. A frustration grows within me at the impossibility of not being able to do something else, take them with me, take care of them, protect them from danger, intense heat or hunger. That look of innocence and vulnerability stirs something inside of me. It is a sadness that hits me like dammed water. It is sadness that wants to flow but comes up against a wall of very heavy rocks.

Kind people feed street animals, but without experiencing the suffering that I feel. It is clear that the animals were reflecting something deeper to me that I could not understand. One day, after feeding a street kitten, I returned home with a heavy heart. I closed my eyes and tried to connect with the depths of my being, asking again and again, what are these beings reflecting back to me? Why can't I give an explanation to this deep sadness? With my eyes closed I glimpse some stairs, I went to them and started to descend. The stairs took me to the house where I lived my childhood. I saw it as clearly as if I had never left. There was the large living room, where I once played superheroes with my cousins ​​and the place where we celebrated birthdays so many times, with that coconut and caramel cake that we all liked.

The dining room table was untouched. Large, round and covered by a tablecloth of white, blue and red flowers. The stairs of the house kept their reddish color and took me to the second floor, where there was a small window in the corridor, in the style of Romeo and Juliet. There was the blue tiled bathroom where my mother gave me hot baths and then struggled to get me out of the shower, arguing that I still didn't have old man's fingers, wrinkled from the water. I was able to see my brother's room, my parents' room and finally mine. Opening the door, I saw myself when I was about 5 years old, sitting on the floor and turning the pages of a big book with a castle on the cover. I sat next to the little girl and asked her what she was observing. It's my favorite storybook, she answered without showing much interest in my presence. What stories are in your book? I told her, trying to start a conversation. There are princesses and princes. There are also fairies and animals that talk to humans. She responded a little more excited in the talk. And continued; my favorite story is about a palace in the middle of the desert, there are princes, she said smiling, they are brave warriors, they wear wide pants and pointy colored shoes. And there are camels carrying men in turbans. I like camels because they smile. She said, pointing to one of the drawings.

I observed the room. There was a small bed with a blanket of green elephants. Toys and teddy bears were organized on the bed and on the nightstands. Where is everyone in the house? I asked. The little girl shrugged her shoulders with an attitude of not being interested in answering. Where are mom and dad? I insisted. They are working, and the lady who takes care of you? She is cooking. In the kitchen a radio could be heard playinga romantic salsa from the nineties. What do you do when everyone is busy? I kept asking. I look at my books, other times I make houses with the pillows and they are the main characters. They? I looked at her curious. They! she pointed out, raising her voice as if my question was too obvious. The barbies, the rag dolls, the baby doll with blonde hair and a bottle, the plush bear and dog. Of course. How distracted I am. I replied. Do youwant to play with me? the little girl asked. Of course, I responded with a smile.

I followed the script that the little girl gave me, the improvised palace with blankets and pillows. The bear was the butler. The barbie was the princess, the boy rag doll was the prince. After playing, we read a story about some elves that lived in the trees of an enchanted forest. Do you get bored when you are alone? I asked. Sometimes, she answered, but I get distracted with my books and them (her plush friends). Do you feel afraid? Yes, in the dark. I would like to sleep with my parents, but they say I’m too old for that. What do you do then? When the lights go out, I cover myself with my blanket that makes me invisible so nothing can happen to me. I close my eyes really tight until I fall asleep.

Should we read another story? she asked me enthusiastically, I'm sorry, it's time to go, I replied. I am very happy to see each other again, but I must return to my duties as an adult. Take me with you, the little girl said sadly. Wait for me here, I'll be back soon, I answered. I hugged her and headed to the door. I felt herdisappointment. I stared at her and, there were the eyes! The eyes that moved my heart. The vulnerable and sad eyes. There they were, looking at me. At that moment the little girl's eyes took the shape of the kitten I fed but couldn't take with me, the eyes of the stray dogs of India, there were the eyes of innocence. The eyes that do not want to be abandoned. The eyes of those beings were reflecting back to me my own eyes. The eyes of the 5-year-old girl who doesn't want to be alone, who wants to be protected by others, who wants to be hugged and heard. An immense pain came over me, tears flowed in great quantities. The wall had fallen and the dammed up water was flowing at last. I cried like I had never done before. I didn't distract my tears, I didn't want to control them. I didn't want to build another wall. I just let them run like water runs in a river.

She needs me, she always has needed me. My desire to care for others and at the same time be cared for. My desire to be recognized and meet expectations, my desire to be heard. My efforts to fit in and not feel alone, I finally understood everything. It was my girl, talking, trying to get out of oblivion. My fears were her fears. How many times in my life have I wanted to make myself invisible like she did so that nothing would happen to me. I wanted to silence my voice so I wouldn’t disappoint others. I wanted to go unnoticed. She had always had all the answers, she was so close to me and yet so far away, like a forgotten memory.

I quickly returned and hugged her tightly. I told her, you will never be alone again. I will be for you always. I'm going to read all the stories you want. We're going to play fairies and princesses. I promise you that I will respect your spontaneity, your tastes and I will embrace your fears. We will lead a life with games, dances and fun. We will do what we love. I will give you all the love that is in my heart. We are going to create many more stories for Barbie and all her friends. The little girl drew the most beautiful smile I've ever seen, her eyes lit up, she got up from the floor and started jumping on her bed, laughing. We are going to hold hands and walk through the most beautiful and extraordinary places in the world, where kings had colorful palaces and princesses decorated their skin with the most beautiful stones.

I hugged my girl and sheltered her with my love. I dressed her in the most beautiful colors and took her to Rajasthan, one of the most magical places in India. We arrived at the Amber Fort in Jaipur, home of the ancient kings or Maharajas. There we were in front of that dream place located on a rocky hill, with a wide view of Maota Lake. Cobblestone paths and large gates allowed the entrance of the elephants. Sitting in a corner a snake charmer played the pungi, while a snake came out of a basket moving in harmony. The little girl widened her eyes in amazement. The fort had stairs, tunnels, courtyards, balconies, arches, and beautiful gardens. We toured its interior, the walls and ceilings took us to another era. They were carved and decorated with various colors, figures, and stone inlays showing beautiful women dressed in vibrant sarees, as well as flowers, animals, and reminders of past battles. The Sheesh Mahal, a hall completely covered by mirrors and crystals, was our favorite place, it radiated beauty. The story says that the Maharaja's queen wanted to sleep outdoors to gaze at the stars, but this was not allowed, so the king built this room so when lighting candles, the mirrors on the ceiling made the illusion of a starry sky.

Outside the fort a family of monkeys were playing and jumping on the walls and trees. One of them waited forus to be distracted to steal a bag of nuts. The little girl laughed at their naughtiness. Peacocks sang in the distance. Tall men with elegant mustaches and colorful turbans walked beside us. The girl smiled incredulously as she saw before her eyes the characters of her favorite book jumping into reality.

It was hard to believe that we were so far from Colombia traveling through the Thar desert. A desert that was once a trade route where merchants moved in camel caravans across long routes from Asia, Egypt and Africa. The little girl wasted no time observing every detail of what she always thought she would only see in books. Is it a desert mirage? She asked me, pointing in the distance to a city of yellow limestone, which, in contact with the sun, seemed to be made of gold. It was Jaisalmer, the golden city, although it was not a mirage, walking through its streets was like entering another world. Its architecture is a mix of Arabic and Rajput styles. The walls of the houses, temples and palaces are finely carved by local artisans. Every inch of wall is a work of art that hides centuries of tradition behind it. The houses or havelis of the city are also made of the same yellow stone and took ten, twenty or fifty years to be built. Its carved decorations, balconies and giant wooden doors were a feast for our eyes. And at the top of this splendid city, was the Jasailmer fort, which keeps within itself like a treasure, wonderful palaces, streets that take you to the past and Jain temples. That night as we ate outdoors, we could see the fort guarding its city, the moon lighting up the desert, while musicians sang Rajhastan folk music, accompanied by the sound of the santur. I'm sure their songs did not come from theirlungs but from their heart. You know? I like reality more than the stories in my books, the little girl said, immersed in the enchantment of music. That night a piece of my heart stayed forever in the golden city.

A bus took us to Udaipur, the city where majestic palaces float on lakes surrounded by trees, where birds and crows fly free. White palaces where green and turquoise color paintings and crystals stand out. Plants hang from the balconies and the windows are shaped like arches where you can see the water and the mountains as if they were a wonderful painting. The lakes give a touch of depth to the place. People go down the steps to bathe or wash their clothes. We got on a boat to tour Lake Pichola, the little girl had fun feeling the air on her skin. Then the sunset came and we saw how the sun touched the water, painting it with its orange and red color. Udaipur is a wonderful combination of air, sun, soil and water, all dancing to the tune of the sitar and flute, in an eternal balance that allows the city to stand on water.

Today we will play at being princesses, we will visit the Umaid Bhawan Palace in Jhodpur! I told the little girl. She clapped excitedly. So we dressed in an aquamarine lehenga and choli, embroidered in silver colors. We covered ourselves with a duppata that fell gently on our shoulders. The Bhawan Palace is without a doubt one of the most fascinating places I have ever seen. It belonged to Maharaja Umaid Singh and is still kept by his family. It has a gigantic dome that can be seen from great distances in Jodhpur. Inside the place, a vibrant fusion of Eastern and Western architecture is observed. Paintings and frescoes decorate its interior. It has large halls and a library with gilded lamps and armchairs, influenced by the Renaissance style. And her garden is huge, with trees, water fountains, and bougainvillea bushes, my favorite flower. That night, hundreds of candles decorated the steps and gave a touch of fantasy to that moment. I walked through the garden feeling that my little girl was by my side, that my smile was her smile. I was grateful because her imagination had taken me to wonderful places. From now on we would continue to walk together because it turns out that we are a good team.

I looked for my Rajhastani prince, who was smiling and talking with his family, I gave him my hand while I wasgrateful for the gift of having him in my life. We took a taxi that began our return to normal life. The palaces would be now the inspiration for my stories. I hugged the little girl with love and told her that I would always be there for her. The girl hugged me tightly, turned off the light and fell asleep smiling, thinking of the Maharajas and their queens, the camels, the men with turbans and the city of gold that perhaps is a desert mirage. This time she did not cover herself with her green elephant blanket. She wasn’t afraid anymore, because in the dark, mirrors turn into starry skies.