Namaste, here's a traveller's tale from 27 February 2014:
Rishikesh is built along the banks of the Ganges. Early morning yoga had readied me for a long, brisk walk in the drizzle. We had chanted:
Om Saha navavatu, Saha nau bhunaktu, Saha veeryah Karavaahai
Tejesvi navadhitamastu, Maa vidvishavahai, Om shanti shanti shanti
Stone and concrete steps led to the river's edge where a few from Hindustan continued to bathe in the azure/pastel green waters. Sellers (young and old) offered a small bouquet of flowers to float on the holy waters. Rituals and rites passed by every day. Like elsewhere in India there was constant movement.
Visiting many forts and palaces, time did seem to stand still. Certainly the Mughal Emperors knew how to live it up. Today one-fifth of humanity lives and works in this emerging nation where they are rapidly adapting to the 21st century. India bristles with an eclectic mélange of ethnic groups; an intoxicating cultural cocktail for the traveller.and generally Hindus, Moslems and Sikhs dwell in peace and harmony. With such astonishing diversity, I was taken on a journey that will linger in my mind for a long time.
Small shops lined busy walk ways crammed with locals going about their daily business and chores. At times on the roadside it was like a trail of refugees - people dressed in colourful rags, strange head gear and some carrying baggage on their heads: a constant babble of Hindi and shuffling of sandals, thongs and shoes. There was no footpath and pedestrians walked mainly in single file, occasionally double to pass or chat together. It had been raining off and on since early morning which explained the build-up of traffic since before dawn with a cacophony of noise which blights every city in the sub-continent.
Another meal was not something I relished. Rice porridge for brekkie has never been on my food wish list. And last night I'd seen two rats scurry by, one in the dining room and the other crawling by the sacks of food! My stomach had (bless Shiva and a local remedy) settled faster than the two previous bouts of 'Delhi belly'.
I arrived at Divine Resort just as the rain set in. Time for a cuppa (real cappuccino with apfel strudel and ice cream. A German guy seated opposite me ordered the same. An American guy was dressed like a golfer. As I spoke he said: "you're a Kiwi." He was from Maryland and had spent 3 years in NZ, "great golf courses ... met Michael Campbell on pro circuit before he won PGA ... shot a couple of 62s ... " he bragged on while another ex-pat gave physiotherapy to the German's wife. It was a hotel for wealthy westerners, wives or girlfriends would love it and it had a great view of the cataracts below. Returning to the narrow lanes I stopped to buy some souvenir presents.
I was wet, hungry and running late and I would not have made check out time at 12 noon, had Raju not offered me a lift on his 500cc motorcycle. The wind whisked my hair back as he throttled up the hill and leaned around corners on the windy road. He looked like a 1960s mod-rocker (Bollywood style) and wouldn't accept money: "give it to poor person who needs it," he suggested.
Lunch at Niketan Ashram was surprisingly good - vegetable biryana, chick pea and marsala sauce, yoghurt, two chapati, a banana and tin mug of purified water. I'd thought, like in Gulmarg, I might be able to drink from the tap. At Rishikesh the Ganges River was a clear pale blue-green colour and looked clean. However, it was navigable by power boat for another 120 kilometres upstream as far as a hydro dam passing many other villages and towns. In my delicate condition I drank only bottled or distilled water.
A slow drive mid-afternoon to Haridwar had wearied me. What to do when the train is due to depart in a couple of hours? It had stopped raining and the day had warmed. I was pleased to be travelling light - only a small backpack. Taking to the streets again I set out to explore the town. The route to the rail station was crowded with people and congested with traffic. Turning left I ambled along a narrow shopping lane and walked into a barber's, not for a haircut or shave (which I needed), but a relaxing and refreshing head and face massage. Twenty minutes or so later at a cost of R250 ($5) I was rejuvenated (much better than caffeine or gurana) and caught up with Maha Shivaratri, young guys danced, partied and paraded in the streets to celebrate consciousness. They chanted "Om Namah Shivaya" and Hindu temples were decorated with flowers and lit up at night.
For me India is a land where nothing is black and white. A land of lights and darks, from waist deep fresh powder snow to cool marble palaces, and warm golden sands. This country where thousands of years history is alongside the latest technology with castes, colours, contrasts and a myriad of sounds, sights and smells.
