Discovery of India - Yet another Journal

sudzindia

So in three days, I will be on flight to Delhi via Colombo. I am excited and a tiny bit nervous about traversing that strange land alone. To places I've never been before, to see sights I have not come across before, to meet people that I felt for...once.

I got my travel money converted into USD$ and some travellers cheques. My signatures turned out all diferent. Gah! My backpack does not have a zip and consequently could not be locked. My mum had the bright idea of sewing on four hoops to the tightening cord. So now when i pull n tighten the cord, all the hoops come together and voila! I can slip in a little lock n all ready to do. What would we do without mothers! Hahaha...Well i reckon, if ppl really wanted to take something out of the bag, they can easily slit it open n do it but at least this will be a deterrent. I will carry another small day pack for all my valuables though..

In the mean time, i am stuck in the office trying to do some monthly reports that I should have done a long time ago. The worst thing is, i quit my job, and yesterday was supposed to be my lat day!

To be continued.

sudzindia

So after a 4 hour over stopover in Colombo, reached Delhi in the evening. Colombo airport was packed with people on transit. It seems that Sri Lankan Airlines is one of the cheapest alternative around. So lots of people on transit to Bahrain, Malaysia and god knows where stop here.

Surprising number of people speaking Malayalam around. Ended up speaking to a guy from Kerala who was on his way to Bahrain. He’s been working there for a year and a half. He worked in Malaysia for 3 years. Paid an agent, was put up in a go-down Klang, fed white rice and dal for 3 months before some of the employees protested and asked for a menu change. Nonveg twice a week was implemented. It seems out of the 150 workers who came, 40 took a return flight the same day after seeing the conditions. These are people who wouldn’t struggle for three good meals a day back home. But the grass is always greener on the other side and they come to kl after paying a hefty sum as commission, work in a factory and can barely save much. Add to that an alien language.

Arrived in Delhi airport. My shrink-wrapped backpack looking more compact than ever, came through after waiting a while. Changed some TCs into money at the airport coz it is less of a hassle to do it there than at banks.

I am staying with my cousin whom i hvnt met in 6 years. Her husband works with the army..So I am put at the Defence Officers Enclave in Chanakyapuri for a couple of days. The weather, although a bit chilly, is not too bad but I have the mother of all blocked noses from a flu I picked up a couple of days ago.

Am going to head down to the city centre to look around in a while. Also meeting a friend from Kerala days whom I have not seen in years. She teaches at a college in Delhi somewhere. Yet to find the details!

First thing which struck me was the traffic. its chaotic. i cant imagine driving here. Cousin's husband offered to leave the car for me the next day to drive around. I politely declined, another reason being, i would probably get hopelessly lost and end up in bombay..

Will update more

vinayverma

Interesting read...keep them coming
all the best for the rest of the Discovery of India

__________________
If Life is a journey....travel on...and on..on..on.....

sudzindia

Feb 1, 2006

Today before I grew roots too long, I pushed off into the city. Connaught Place was the destination. Prominent spot in my backpackers bible and was meeting my old friend Susan there. I find that I get comfortable very fast and before I know, I would be hesitant to move on. Took an auto after declining one which refused to use the meter. The first guy gave me a head to toe look, Rough Guide to India and all, and said a seemingly outlandish figure.
This second bearded old Punjabi auto driver didn’t say much and must have assumed I was from around town. The key is to not open you mouth too much. Within two secs of my broken hindi, they are sure to tel. I think halfmy energy on this trip will be spent trying to pretend I know my way around and stuff, when I really have no clue. But then again, I would be a fool to believe that I can pull one over their hawk eyes. Lol. Anyhow, the ride was interspersed with ‘Jeen Haan & Teek Hai’ as he talked about everything from fast warming up weather to ladies who let their pallus hang from bikes – a potentially fatal thing to do.
I ventured a sentence in Hindi after much practice in my head and he turned around and asked ‘Aap yahan se nahin hei? (You are not from around here?) But nice dude didn’t take me on a joyous city ride to fleece me.

Apart from the constantly honking crazy traffic, one thing which strikes u quickly about India is the poverty. I guess i have been considerably shielded from it. Even during Kerala days, you do not see so many beggars and homeless people including kids. You cant ignore it in one way, because it is everywhere and yet you can ignore it because of the precise same reason.

I saw a boy and a man, both looking pretty scruffy and homeless, trying to empty out the pockets of another homeless man who had passed out in the sidewalk. Probably drunk or something. I think they might have taken a few coins or maybe nothing at all. Was I expected to shout? I didn’t do anything. Made me feel weird watching that sight and not doing anything. That pretty much sums up me. Idealism in the head and not an iota of action. Another guy who watched shook his head and beat his forehead with his palm in a very non-approving manner. At least he did that. But then again, what would I have done/said to those two human beings?

There are ppl sleeping on the streets at many places. The weather is warmer and probably a welcome relief. In Old Delhi later with my friend, a kid tugged at me and asked for money. I did not have any change. But then again, ive been told not to give any money coz before u know you can be crowded by tons of them trying to get stuff out of you. Walked straight past and in protest the boy yanked my half filled bisleri bottle and took it. I didn’t bother chasing him for it. Although that was about Rs 6 (half of Rs 12 ) more than u would probably give the kid in cash.

However my Indian roots ensure that I do not get harrased by touts as much as the firangs do. But that will all soon change wen I emerge from trains in strange towns with my backpack. A dead give away. Brown skin or not, democratic India is bound to treat you all the same.

Met Susan and her friend, both of whom are doing their M Phil and teaching at St Stephen’s College in Delhi. While I was waiting for them (they went to the wrong saravana bavan next to the wrong mc donalds) a couple of guys struck up a conversation with me. I must look very green. I had another guy try and sell me sun glasses and then just walk down the street with me ‘to practise his English’. I am vary about people, esp traveling alone…my friend says its not really a bad thing esp in Delhi!
Anyhow, these guys seemed harmless after a while, had a chat about India et all and then left. Later I went back to them to ask where I can make a phone call and he very nicely offered me his mobile. I asked him if he was sure and he went of course of course. Nothing asked in return.

Susan, Pooja and I took the super efficient Delhi Metro train to Old Delhi. Pretty damn cool. As u emerge from the depths of the station, u realise Old Delhi is completely different from New Delhi. Old dilapidated buildings with wires, wires and more wires everywhere. Few monkeys up on the wires and buildings and cycle rickshaw mayhem. This area within Old Delhi near Jama Masjid (India’s largest mosque?) can only be traversed on foot or cycle rickshaw.

Fascinating place, took some photos including classic pigeons flying shot (thanks to a smart kid who had them fluttering at the correct time) and fantastic view of Delhi from up the narrow winding minaret.

Had some really awesome roti boti rolls in a muslim restaurant at the corner, a tussle over the bill and I was back on train and an auto towards my cousin’s place. I need to plan soon or else I will never get out of Delhi, knowing me!

sudzindia

3/12/06 -

So yesterday after checking some train information online, things seemed
pretty confusing with many tickets only on waiting list. Made my way to the
railway station. They have a seperate foreigners' booking room.

Excellent service and got myself booked on the overnight Poorva express to
Varanasi for Friday Night. Woo hoo! My rail & road trip officially begins.
Major train routes have a foreign tourist quota which is a blessing. At no
extra rate! Foreigners (excluding me, coz they dont really check ur passports/id etc! yay!) usually get charged much more for visitng national monuments like the Taj than Indians do.

Am travelling 2nd class sleeper class. For the budget traveller overnight
train is a wonderful way to cut accomdadation costs and travel time.
Basically u r just paying for the night's stay and voila! u r at ur
destination!

Travelling 2nd class sleeper is the best way to see India. A crossection of
people, chai & coffee wala, beggars,the odd 'sadhu', people selling all
kinds of things and interesting fellow travellers.

I am scribbling in my notebook on the lower berth now and my neighbours
include 2 guys and a girl from Poland and a charatered accountant from
Delhi. So far we've shared some chocolate, bottled water & valuable
travelling/stay tips. Right now the dread-locked Polish guy is using my
extra bed sheet as a blanket.

Passed small villages - dust towns with mud houses in front of which little
children and animals play. Miles and miles of lush green paddy fields. This
is the very heart of India - the people which field a billion mouths. Where
else shall I go to find India? I have come home.

Update*

Reached Varnasi station before sunrise on the 4th on a cold morning. Took an
auto the furthest it would go. And then a walk down narrow quaint alleyways
to the ghats. Just as i reached the ghats, day was breaking and the Ganges
greeted my sight for the first time in my life. It looked serenly beautiful,
shrouded by mist...a silvery, winding river which has almost flown through
eternity. Wonderful.

Nick-H

Great, great post . More please!

It's pretty neat that you can be "foreign" or "Indian"; whichever suits best at the time!

__________________
.


Just one member of the IndiaMike Mod Team

sudzindia

Varanasi, Kashi, Benares, Ananda Van. Many names for this one city which lies next to the Ganges. This is considered the holiest of the thirthas by many Hindus.
The place where I was staying – Scindhia guest house is just next to the Manikarnika Ghat. This is one of the two ghats in Varansi at which bodies are burned. 24-7.

A guy who works there said there is no holiday. People die all the time. There is always someone in the pyre there. Usually upto 4 bodies being cremated at the same time. It’s a lesson in mortality.

Here we are in our self protected bubble trying to get the best of everything, fighting battles to climb the corporate ladder, trying to win. Right up to the funeral pyre. There are always funeral processions leading to Manikarnika Ghat. Hearing ‘Ram Nam Satya Hai’ chanted loudly as the body is carried by wrapped in yellow and golden sheet, becomes quite common after a while.

The roads leading to ghat are tiny alleyways with countless shrines and old temples next to little shops selling everything from lux soap, pan to bhang lassis.

The ganga is at its most beautiful during sunrise and sunset. During the evening, I took a boat ride out with an Irish guy I met. Watched arati at the main ghat from the boat as the sky turned crimson red. As it became darker and the waters lost its golden colour, little lamps were floated out into the water – offerings to Mother Ganga.

The Arti was a display in synchornised movement from 5 pujaris who stood on top of pedestals. Very touristy indeed. With live music playing in the background, it was interesting nevertheless.

My Irish friend has a chai obsession and now we stop for a chai by the road every 30mins. He is also fond of chewing pan. Not really my kind of thing though…yet! Hehe.

The other two people I’ve been hanging out from the guest house is this cool father and daughter couple. He’s got this typical sadhu baba look with dread locks and tattoos of Om all over him and even one of Shiva on his chest. The locals call him Baba. Never ceases to amuse me. His daughter is 17 and she seems to be having a swell time too. Met the Irish guy and these two over breakfast at my guest house on the 1st morning.

Took a day trip to Sarnath where Buddha preached his first sermon after englightenment. Some old monasteries which were excavated are next to the huge Dhamekh Stupa (33.5 metres in height), in the midst of a very serene and quite park.

A bunch of schoolchildren on an excursion found my Irish mate,Mark, more interesting than any of the stupas or ruins and we were quickly in the midst of a photo taking frenzy while the accompanying teacher smiled apologetically.

Mark said he was used to the attention. On an overnight large local transport boat trip on the deck, from Sulawesi in Indonesia, he woke up to find that those working on the boat had put an enclosure around him to prevent the crowd of people looking at him from outside from coming any closer.

After two nights here, I am heading to Agra. Over and out!

SHIMLA

Very interesting, sudzindia ! Keep them coming.

__________________
Whoever said money can't buy happiness didn't know where to shop !

lonelyaztec

Interesting ! What abt the update from Agra ?

__________________
Aztec

My photoblog

sudzindia

On the day I was leaving Varanasi, I bumped into Lucas and Maya – two of the Polish guys that I met on the train from Delhi. They were sitting by the ghats looking out into the river. A brief chat and we found out that we were on the same train, same coach in nearby seats to Agra.

I bid adieu to my new friends including the dreadlocked baba and his daughter (I may meet them in Rishikesh) and got to the train station on cycle rickshaw. I have one big traveling backpack and another small day pack which is slung in front like one of those baby pouches. So a walking luggage exhibit like me does attract a few stares.

Train left sharp at 5.20 and my Polish friends were missing. Train ride was freezing, despite three layers and a beanie. The blasted draught kept coming in through the window and by 3 am I climbed into the upper berth to see if it was any warmer there.

My neighbours were a German, a Korean and Japanese. After walking down streets in the Taj Ganj area, touristy area close to the Taj, and shaking off a persistent auto wallah cum accommodation tout, the German and I found rooms to stay for the night. At Rs250 for a night with attached bathroom and TV (although I only turned it on once), it was a bargain.

The Taj Mahal is supposed to be it at its best at sunrise or sunset. I decided to visit the Agra Fort during the day. Very nice, very old, very big. I am not much of an architecture person. But it was still nice. I am really taking a fancy towards my photography skills and spent most of my time conjuring up superb compositions in my mind, which always end up looking rather drab.

I saw the Taj Mahal for the first time during lunch at my guest house restaurant on the roof top. It looked very imposing. I turned in for an early night and was up at 6 to visit the Taj Mahal. Stopped by a teashop for an early morning chai.

Did not have change for the Rs 20 entrance fee. The guy at a shop near by which sells Taj mementoes gave me the money and told me to pay him later. I could see the business proposition at the far end of the tunnel, but it was still very nice of him.

With the Taj Mahal I discovered that I CAN appreciate architecture. I was not expecting much as I thought it would be just another case of the ‘overrated syndrome’ As I walked in through the main archway, it looked totally sublime in that early hour. ‘A tear in the face of eternity’ indeed as described by Tagore. When the sun rose later, it didn’t really change colour as is often exaggerated. But it was still quite lovely. The gardens are very well kept as well.

However the story of Shah Jahan is oft too romanticized. Our hero did not quite lead his last days looking at the Taj thinking of his beloved wife. He actually died on a overdose of opium and aphrodisiacs past the age of 70.
I decided to give the ghost city of Fatehpur sikri a miss and took a local bus to Mathura. An hours ride. My destination was Vrindavan, 12 km from Mathura, a town in which the Hindu God, Krishna, spent his childhood and teen years. According to Vaishnava devotees, Krishna eternally resides in Vrindavan.

sudzindia

Vrindavan - A sleepy town loaded with Hindu history

I had left out the details about what happened to
the polish guy and girl who were supposed to be on my
train to Agra. As i was walking through the gardens of
the Taj, I bumped into them sitting on a bench
admiring the monument of love.

They had took the wrong train. Figured it was a
mistake when the train left from Varanasi at 5pm
instead of 5.20. They ended up in Gwalior and had to
take a train from there to Agra. Spent more than 24
hours on train apparently.

Back to my behind date update, the bus from Agra was
supposed to go to Mathura. I had not figured whether
i wanted to stay in Mathura or Vrindavan. An emphatic
message from my friend in Malaysia who is a monk
made the decision for me. He and others of the
Vaishanva tradition believe Vrindavan to be the
holiest of all the holy dhams.

The bus was enroute to Delhi and i was told that it
would be taking the bypass and would only stop on
the highway on the outskirts of Mathura. My
guidebook says there are plenty of buses to Vrindavan
from Mathura town. I asked the guy next to me let me
know the place where I would have to get off. He
kept dozing off and waking up every 10mins. The
bus conductor looked too busy & disinterested to
even tell me anything.

As the bus trundled closer to Mathura, the birth place
of Krishna, I was excited and had goosebumps of
expectation. In the mean time, I prayed that I would
not end up 20kms past Mathura before my dozing
neighbour decides to tell me it's time to get off!

With a lucky twist of fate, the direct bus decided to
take turn into Mathura town because of a few
passengers who were getting off in Mathura.This irked
quite a few passengers on the way to Faridabad, Delhi
etc, as it was quite abnormal for the bus to do so
and a couple of them were making their displeasure
known loudly.

Once it reaches Mathura bus stand and I was trying to
gather my bag to get out,I told my neighbour that I
had decided to stay in Vrindavan. And he said, hold
on, this bus will stop further up on the highway just
2kms from Vrindavan! Cool!

Off the bus, I got onto a shared auto - the most
popular form of transport in these parts. 10 people
pile into a slightly large-sized auto and bear the
congestion until its time to get out. I had decided to
stay at the International Society for Krishna
Consciousness (ISCKON) guest house.

In the auto there was a white lady, dressed in a
sari elegantly, with the Vaishnava mark on her
forehead. The legacy of Srila Prabhupad, a teacher
who travelled to America during the hippie movement
during his twilight years with 40 rupees in his
pocket. He started the ISCKON movement, popularly
called the Hare Krishnas. With temples in most
countries, a huge percentage of its initiates are
foreigners.

Getting off the auto, the lady named Himavatid,
directed me to the guest house where I was to stay.

First thing you notice about Vrindavan is that every
single wall in the town is not convered with movie
posters but the words Radhe Krishna. Later i found
out to my pleasant amusement that all the cycle
rickshaw drivers ask people to make way by shouting
'Radhe Radhe'. Very quaint little town with a distinct
uplifingspiritual atmosphere.

The ISCKON temple is called 'Angrezi Mandir' by
the locals, not in a condescending or even a
wide-eyed 'wow' manner. Its just cause the number of
foreign brahmacharis who stay at the temple. During
the arati, the temple is filled with locals and
foreigners both enthusiastically joining in the Hare
Krishna kirtan.

The singing usually starts at a slow melodious pace
and towards the end picks up speed. Often you can see
people starting to dance - sometimes even old uncles
and aunties. Smiles all around. Another friend that i
met calls it the 'blissed out look', without any
drugs. Lol!

As the music reaches a crescendo and fingers fly
impossible fast on the mrindangam in accompaniment
to the cymbals, you can see some of the younger
brahmacharis goading the instrumentalists to go
higher, faster and harder. The closest comparison to
this scene is a a full-on rave where the music builds
up to the highest point as the ravers jump in
unision punching the air with their clenched fists. A
total spectacle!

One evening, I took a walk down into the village. The
place is filled with old temples of historical
importance to the Vaishnava tradition and many
with stories associated with the pasttimes of Krishna
during his young years.

As I walked through the village, I saw old
crumbling ghats where once people used to bathe in
the Yamuna, centuries ago. The river has since
changed its course, now flowing at least three or
four kilometres away, out of sight - leaving behind
the ghats in the middle of nowhere.

A few children tagged me as I walked down the
village. Two of them even took me to an ancient
temple called the Madana Mohan Mandir up on a hill.
I spotted a peacock on a wall and wanted to take
its photo when an cute old man insisted
that he be in the picture too. He took his time
and posed pointing at the peackock. By the time I
clicked the peacock had hopped off and I had a
picture of the old man pointing at nothing. It still
made for a very cute photo!

As I walked further into the village during dusk, I
heard soulful singing coming from somewhere. Followed
it into this old temple, where there were old
people sitting around singing and playing on old
instruments. I sat down for a while and soon it was
timne for arati and before I knew a lady asks me to
help out and im ringing the big bell on top of the
shrine. It seemed the perfect place to be at that
point and I would not have been anywhere else in the
world.

I liked Vrindavan so much that I ended up staying one
extra night - making time to see the Sri Krishna
Janmasthan in Mathura and a whirlwind tour of the
major temples in Vrindavan on a cycle rickshaw. In the
last five years, I have not seen so many temples that
I did on that one day!

From Vrindavan I moved on to Haridwar on a day train.
Haridwar is in the state of Uttranchal and 24km from
Rishikesh - where the Gangetic plains end and the
Himalayas rise abruptly from ground level.

The train was over 2.5 hours late and I arrived late
at night. As I got off the station close to midnight,
I saw two fellow backpackers from South Africa and
they hadn't decided on a place to stay. Eventually the
three of us piled into an auto and went to a place
called Prem Nagar Ashram that I had read about in by
backpacker's bible.

The two backpackers I met were Brett and Anuja - one
white and the other Indian. More about Haridwar and
these two inspiring characters to follow.

sudzindia

Inspiration at Haridwar

The South African nationals Brett and Anuja that I met late at night at the Haridwar station looked like they were 28 and 24 respectively. The next day I found that I had grossly misjudged – they were 37 and 31 and married!

They are traveling for 2 whole years, India and Nepal first followed by South America. I initially assumed they had taken time off for traveling as some people do. It was only later in the evening I learnt that they are retired! After their period of traveling they are going back to South Africa to live in a commune (a self-sustained, farming hippie-at-heart community) where they bought a house and will farm their own vegetables. Both engineers by qualification with a basic knowledge in programming, they started their own IT firm working out of their shared home (with other housemates) on an old desktop 8 years ago.

Anuja quit her job first to work on their new business full time, followed by Brett. They admitted to working like dogs, often taking turns to sleep. The first year they did surprisingly well. And then the IT bubble burst in 1998. The next three years was a struggle with them barely able to meet their bills. Brett said they were perilously close to quitting because they knew that they could earn 10 times more working for someone else with their qualifications.

They persisted, business grew, they employed like-minded people to do the programming bits and started to reap the rewards. Both played key roles – Anuja in securing new clients (according to Brett when she talks no one can say no!) through her ability to assess the client’s requirements and coming up with perfect proposals and Brett in his business knowledge and ability to conceptualise program models.

Their employees came to their house to work. In the beginning they had to move out of their big bedroom so that it could be used for work and lived out of a store room with barely enough space for their bed. They employed mostly students who were studying by correspondence and soon their employees were renting rooms in their own house. Total informal atmosphere with no dress codes, fixed times (as long as work was finished) and lot of fun outings with their employees (the most important thing was the chemistry said Anuja).

Eight years down the line they had made their buck and had bought three properties (including a large factory space which gave them a comfortable fixed income). And they retired! They got offers from large firms to buy over their company (which had an attractive client base) for ridiculous amounts but they turned it down mostly for sentimental reasons, it being their baby and all, and in consideration of their employees. Instead he handed its running over to the employees by selling them shares while guaranteeing an income for them from the company as well.

The quote of the day from Brett – ‘Job security is here (pointing to his head). You’ve got to do what you want and believe in it’. And trust me, they LOOK 28 and 24!
These guys were too inspirational to not write about! Back to Haridwar..haha. It’s a crowded little town on the banks of the Ganga – with surprisingly clean, swift-flowing, turquoise waters straight out of the mountains.

The main happening at Haridwar is bathing at the ghats. Tons of people come from all over India to dip in the ice-cold water. And I can understand why they would rather come here than Varanasi – the water is grey and murky with pollution levels 100 times safe levels by the time it reaches there.

Haridwar also boasts of a few old temples including some ancient ones up in the dry hills in the area. We took a very well-maintained cable car to a Devi temple. Lovely views from up there, but cant say the same about the pujaris. During my trip to India, I have come across more than a few people at temples out to make a quick buck from unsuspecting people who are not locals. If something is not done, the legacy of ancient India we will be left with will only be religion of notes. Materialism was bound to sweep in and with the emphasis that India places on religion, it is least surprising that it has found a comfortable spot in that which is supposed to be its anti-thesis.

I spent some quiet moments at the ghats and some noisy moments in crowded dhabas and shared tempos. One more night after my arrival and I took a bus to Rishikesh – 24 km north.

sudzindia

Leaving Haridwar on a bus, it was not long before we approached Rishikesh got my first sight of the Himalayas. There it stood in the evening light, rising abruptly from the river level, shrouded in a gentle mist. Rishikesh is JUST at the base of the hills and you can already smell the clean mountain air if you go further up river from town.

I chose to stay in a place called Lakshman Jhoola (Lakshman Bridge – a suspended metal bridge thingy) which is 2-3 km from Rishikesh town and very popular with backpackers. If the Ganga at Haridwar is clean, at Rishikesh it looks amazing.

Later at night, I walked to the sandy banks of the river barely two minutes from where i was staying. The fullmoon was just rising over the mountains and not a single sound except for some little birds and the river lapping against the sand. That Rishikesh is peaceful, is an understatement. No wonder, it has lured spiritual seekers for centuries hoping against hope to come across some real cave-dwelling saints...as opposed to the money-making babas who have been quick to cash in on people’s interest in the new age of the Aquarius.

There were a lot of foreigners in Rishikesh although it is still not peak tourist time – many from Europe speaking languages other than English as well as Israelis.

My friend’s grandmother is a swami at the Shivavanda Ashram at Rishikesh and I had told him that I would visit her. Dina, a monk with the ISCKON movement, had told me that his grandmother used to be a singer in her youth, even giving concerts in Kerala before she moved to Malaysia. He asked me to make her sing a Krishna song.

When i met her, i did not expect her to be so old. She was very old and had a lady who take care of her needs. She had a walking support thingy and she could barely remember a thing. I told her i was her grandson’s friend and it seemed to be so hard for her to understand what I was saying.

At least six times during the conversation, she asked me where i was from. And then i had to explain again that i was visiting from Malaysia and was her grandson’s friend. As i spoke with her, i tried to imagine myself like that...old, fragile, dependent. No more the arrogance of youth, no more the things that you take for granted. It’s surely bound to happen. Time flies like crazy. It seems like yesterday that I joined school for the 1st time. I can still clearly recall that first day. And sooner than later, I will probably be in that stage...waiting for the end.

I told her that her grandson asked me to ask her to sing a Krishna song. She said “I don’t have a good voice anymore”. Then this singer of yore, sang in a broken old voice, an entire song ‘Achutham, Kesavam...”. It was amazing that she could remember so many paragraphs of the song, almost like 4 minutes, when she could barely remember her grandson.

It was a very humbling experience meeting this old sweet lady, a lesson in mortality. At Rishikesh, I also met a young man of 24 from Karnataka named Sidhu. Both of us had walked along the bank of the river, hearing someone play the flute. It was an old man in ochre clothes, but he left soon after. Sidhu had just become Siddhananda six months ago. He left home to become a sadhu. He had come to Haridwar and then Rishikesh. He had a diploma in mechanical engineering and used to wear jeans and Tshirt. Now he had on a dhothi and a shawl. The clothes that he brought from home was thrown into the Ganges. No wonder it gets polluted by the time it reaches Varanasi!

I had an interesting conversation with him about religion and life, perched on rocks by the river while he waited for one of his clothes to dry in the evening sun. He had with him all his meagre possessions bundled together and was going to find a place to stay for the night. The funny thing is that he is still to tell his family that he has become a sadhu and intends to do that once he finds a proper guru. They think that he is gone for a long pilgrimage.

The funny thing about Rishikesh, is that all the foreigners are draped in Indian shawls and the like while the locals have on western looking jackets. I stayed there for three days, just enjoying the quiet atmosphere before I was ready to head up into the Himalayas. From the foothills to right into the mountains.

Sree

I was in a virtual tour. Now preparing myself for tomorrows journey .

jivan

cool thread sudz, reminded me of my journey to haridwar about couple of yrs. back. Liked lakshamanjhula a lot, stayed a week there. Nice place.