Having escaped the cosmicness & clean living of Rishikesh, we decided that Delhi was about living it up - shopping, eating & drinking. I enlisted the help of my friend Badris who I’d met in Dharamsala & lives in Delhi.
After a couple of minor disasters - such as Courtenay losing her bank card in the station (our yogic powers of positive thinking meant it was found and returned - imagine THAT!) and arriving for our 8pm appointment at 9.45, we had a lovely night in the Defence Colony area of Delhi with Badris - In a Bar! That served Cocktails! I had THREE of the little darlings, and NORMAL food (including meat! But I’ve decided to complete my 3 months of vegetarianism as planned).
A little shopping, and a lot of internet on the Tuesday, then Badris invited us over to his flat where we cooed in wonderment at the novelty of things like a fridge, a washing machine and air conditioning. It was an exciting moment for us.
We left Delhi for Agra on Wednesday morning - a whistle stop tour of some of the most important sites in India. Wednesday evening found us sitting in a rooftop restaurant with a Kingfisher beer and the glory of the Taj Mahal, perhaps the world’s finest monument to love, in front of us. Awesome.
I kept sitting there repeating ‘we’re at the Taj Mahal. The TAJ MAHAL’. I suspect it was a bit annoying. But I was blown away - I was actually here, in India. Seeing one of the world’s iconic monuments. It was another of those ‘I’m actually travelling’ moments.
Many people have described the majesty of the Taj in far better words than I ever could, so I won’t even try too. We were there at first light, when the temperature was cool, and the marble was coloured by both sunshine & shade. It is truly a beautiful monument, but somehow I wasn’t touched by it, or emotionally affected. I’ve learnt on this trip that I’m more blown away by natural beauty than man-made monuments.
We snapped away (including the obligatory Princess Diana sad-faced pose) then headed off for the rest of our whistle stop tour of Agra, led by our Rickshaw driver, Ali. Now Ali was very sweet, bless him, but he was possibly the funniest looking guy I’ve ever met. His teeth were at 45 degree angles, his hair was awry and he had proper bottle-bottom glasses. But he was a great guide for us. I actually liked Agra fort more than the Taj - I found it more beautiful with more life & soul to it.
That night, no rest for the wicked - an overnight train to Varanasi. After a battle to reclaim our bunks, we settled down for the night, and actually managed to grab some sleep.
We arrived in Varanasi early morning. Possibly one of the most important cities to Hindus, people who die in Varanasi are promised Moksha - immediate entry into enlightenment, without needing the endless cycle of reincarnation.
This makes Varanasi the city of Death.
It’s most famous for the ghats (steps) down to the Ganges, some of which house funeral pyres which burn bodies 24 hours a day. It’s a strange town. The narrow, winding streets of the old town which wind down to the river reminded me of North Africa - cows everywhere, beggars, every building some kind of store and so much life, noise and colour. But in the midst of all this life, death is ever present - from those who have come to Varanasi to die close to the Ganges, to the bodies that are carried through the streets to the river, carried by outcasts, to the stores selling firewood & the glittery, tinselly cloth the bodies are wrapped in.
To burn a body on the ghats costs 3000 rupees (about £45) to buy the right amount of wood, and takes 3 hours. People save their whole lives for this, and many people are starving to prevent them using their precious firewood money. It’s not unheard of for partially burnt bodies to be floating in the Ganges as they didn’t have enough money for the correct amount of wood, but luckily we didn’t experience this.
We had a beautiful view of the Ganges from our balcony, and one of the things that really struck me about the river was just how different it looked to the same river we’d swum in in Rishikesh. In Rishikesh it was a river full of life - cold, clear mountain water, fast current and absolutely beautiful blue colour. In Varanasi, the water is officially septic, a murky blue brown and teeming with unidentifiable pond life. Amazingly, Indians can bathe in the waters without suffering instant death, and there are not only fish, but DOLPHINS there. It baffles the scientists.
We took both a sunset & a sunrise trip on the water, watching the life & death scenes of Varanasi - from the burning ghats, to the washing being done in the river (Query - how clean do your clothes get, washing them in septic water?) and drying out on the steps, we saw one guy doing laughing yoga on the steps, plenty of Puja ceremonies, kids playing in the river, a swimming class & the evening Aarti ceremony.
We also became truly Indian - cramming the three of us into a cycle rickshaw - Courtenay perched on me & Ragga’s laps. Which was interesting.
Varanasi was a crazy place, but I kind of liked it. In a strange way. However it was very bittersweet. Varanasi was not only the end of my India journey, but the end of my entire trip. I had to say goodbye to Courtenay & Ragga with whom I’d had a fantastic few days - we spent most of our time in hysterics over the silliest of things, but it was fantastic to have some real girl time, and I’ll always cherish it.
All this has been written on my flight to Mumbai, for my last night on Indian soil. I can’t believe my 6 months is up.
