Our final day in Meghalaya began early. With an afternoon flight to Delhi, we packed up quickly and drove toward Guwahati for one last stop—the Kamakhya Devi Temple.
We arrived just in time, straight into chaos. Parking was a struggle, hawkers crowded the entrance, and devotion came with price tags attached. When we enquired about darshan, we were told the general queue would take 10–12 hours—impossible with a flight to catch. The only option was a VIP pass: ₹500 per person for a rushed 15-minute entry. Reluctantly, we took it.
The experience felt transactional. Narrow corridors, hurried instructions, a brief glimpse of the sanctum—and we were ushered out almost as quickly as we entered. While we offered our prayers sincerely, the spiritual connection felt diluted, buried under logistics and urgency.
Barefoot and rushed, we made our way back to the car and headed for the airport. As the road stretched ahead, a quiet stillness settled in.
Meghalaya had given us beauty, discomfort, wonder, and reflection in equal measure. It reminded us that travel doesn’t always give you what you expect—but often, what you need. And sometimes, what you carry home isn’t souvenirs or photos, but small truths about the world and your place within it.