This time around, my journey took me to places previously explored, but with different company and a different purpose.
We
had a flight to Dehradun, with a brief layover at Delhi & meals served in
flight. Dhiren & Mario met up with us at Dehradun Airport from where we
booked ourselves a cab to drive us to Rishikesh, that’s close to an hour’s
drive.
The
boys had made reservations at a hotel called Madhuban Inn, not quite in the
heart of Rishikesh, and at a fairly busy intersection. However, with its
bathroom doors that wouldn’t shut and keys that stayed stuck in doors that
would refuse to open, Madhuban Inn was a fairly decent stay as it had
comfortable beds and hot showers, both of which are much needed at the end of a
busy day.
After
completing check-in formalities, we hailed an auto (₹10 per person) to take us
to Triveni Ghat, for the evening aarti.
The
street leading down to Triveni Ghat is crowded with stores on both sides and
pilgrims/tourists jostling around, while at the same time making way for the
motorcycles going honking by.
Waiting for the Aarti to begin, we spotted a wild tusker taking a drink across the river. By the time the Aarti began, he was nowhere in sight, having ambled off into the forest beyond.
The Aarti itself was a spectacle, with a crowd of people already seated in the designated spots. We, wanting to get a better view of the goings-on, elbowed our way to the metal barricade up front & stayed put.
Almost
everyone standing beside us had their cameras ready, all wannabe vloggers,
vying for maximum likes/subscribers. One even had the audacity of nudging our
senior companion aside saying (and I quote), ‘I can take better videos than you
will.’ What cheek!
Refusing
to budge from our spot, pressed almost as close as sardines in a tin, we
watched the proceedings that seemed more theatrical than spiritual in their
execution. From the fluid, almost synchronized movements of the priests
performing the Aarti to the devotees chanting and clapping in unison, the
entire experience is quite an interesting one. Most mesmerizing are the flames
that glow red and orange in the darkness post sunset.
Towards
the end of the Aarti, we felt the crowds pushing forward, hoping to obtain
blessings from the priests. Not wanting to be crushed by the crowds, we pushed
our way out, moving slowly against the throng of devotees. In the enclosure
behind us the pilgrims had begun to dance and sway to the now peppy prayer
songs blaring over the loudspeakers.
Moving
to a safe distance we stood watching the lamps floating down the river and
then, after a few moments, made our way back to the Main Street, stopping only
to feast on some bowls of ice-cream custard at one of the many carts that lined
the street.
A
bumpy tuk-tuk ride later, we stopped for dinner of naan, palak paneer, jeera
rice and dal fry, all of which were delicious and much appreciated by us.
Early
the next morning, rising well before my fellow travellers, I crossed the street
for some chai and then took a walk through the Sabzi Mandi, the wholesale vegetable market nearby. At that early
hour, the market was abuzz with activity, with vendors buying cartloads and
even truckloads of a variety of fruits and veggies, to be sold in local markets
across town. Heaps of eggplant, pumpkins, cucumber and cauliflower lay waiting
to be weighed and transported. A walk through the Mandi provides much by way of
sound and colour. Cutting right across the market, I strolled next down a
street lined with carts selling a variety of kitchen utensils and tools. By the
looks of it, they were handcrafted and mostly wrought of iron.
Feeling a wee bit hungry, I stepped into Tiwari Bhojanalaya for a hot potato-onion paratha. Since the restaurant was just opening up for the day, I was the only patron and could enjoy my meal in peace & quiet.
Back in the room, my fellow travellers were up and almost ready to begin a new day. Today, we were heading towards the neighbouring town of Haridwar to fulfil the main purpose of this little trip. Dhiren wanted to immerse his father’s ashes in the very spot that he remembered seeing in a photograph. In it, he was just a baby held by his parents. They were all standing somewhere in Haridwar, the place where Dhiren had had his mundan and where he was given his name by his father’s guru. We were on a quest to find, if possible, the exact same spot. For that, we hired ourselves a tuk-tuk to take us to Har-ki-Pauri, the largest of several sacred ghats. Alighting just beside a 100ft tall statue of Lord Shiva, at the foot of which sits a mendicant who claims to have been seated on the very same spot, without budging, for 20 years. Wow!
From there, Har ki Pauri across the river, looked bright in the morning sun. Almost every building on the ghat is painted a peachy-pink colour, adding to the brightness. Walking along the ghat, we passed sadhus, pilgrims taking a holy dip in the river and vendors selling all sorts of religious and non-religious items like costume jewellery and little toys. At regular intervals, sadhus and priests sat chanting mantras, prayers or telling fortunes. Some, surrounded by a group of pilgrims, were conducting various ceremonies and rituals. The buzz of activity intensified as we got closer to the centre. Here, pilgrims crowded around in little groups, seated on shiny plastic sheets. Men wearing just the bare minimum took a dip in the holy river while women did the same fully clothed, or dressed in what, in India, is commonly known as a gown. Basically, it’s just a long, shapeless, flowing garment, not great to look at, but very comfortable, allowing for free movement.
Almost everyone seems keen to take a dip in the water. The current of the is strong
and, to prevent pilgrims, from being pulled away, there are strong metal chains
to hold on to.
Making our way through the crowds, we headed to a landmark as seen in Dhiren’s photograph, the Raja Birla Clock Tower. It had been given a fresh coat of paint, but was unmistakably the same as the one in the picture.
From there, it was just a matter of trying to locate the exact spot in a picture taken almost forty years ago. This we found at Nai Ghat, the ghat where families performed the mundan ceremony for their children, or where men shaved their heads as a mark of mourning. Just beside Nai Ghat is the Asthi Visarjan Ghat, or the spot where one can immerse the ashes of a loved one. Here, Dhiren bid farewell to his father, letting the ashes float away and merge with the waters of the Holy Ganges. We stood a while there before letting go of the past and moving on with the present moment.
We stopped for lunch at a small restaurant located at nearby, Chotiwale. Smaller and rather shabby looking as compared to its main outlet in Rishikesh, this restaurant serves up some really tasty meals. I, however, skipped lunch, since I had already filled myself with sweet lassi and kheer a while ago.
Leaving the boys to enjoy their lunch, I went
exploring the by-lanes, purchasing a few trinkets to take back home. That done,
we made our way back towards the main road, which, I must say, was a long walk
away. At one point, seeing some locals scale a wall as a shortcut to get the
road, we tried to do the same. Standing on tiptoe, I could see over it, and
realised it was quite a drop on the other side. Moreover, to climb the wall one
needed to stand on a very narrow pipe sticking out at the side. If I missed my
footing I’d fall a couple of feet into the traffic below. If I managed to scale
the wall safely, I was afraid I’d fall and break my head trying to jump down
the other side. In either case, I stood the chance of injury, so decided
against the short cut and trudged back to the path, and took the long way out.
By the time we reached Rishikesh, we were tired and spent a while resting at
the hotel.
Later
in the evening, we headed towards Ram
Jhoola, a 229m long, iron suspension bridge across the river. Now, this
narrow bridge has been open to pedestrians and two-wheelers since 1986.
Thousands cross this bridge everyday making it popular site with tourists and
locals alike. If one stops awhile, one can actually feel the bridge sway with
the endless movement of feet and tyres. I was not very happy with that swaying
and almost trotted across to the other side, to the safety of terra firma.
At Ram Jhoola, we sat at the Ghat enjoying the sight of the bridge light up after sunset and the evening Aarti going on across the river. Purchasing a few floating lamps, we set them afloat on the river along with our prayers. Then, after eating some Maggi, and sipping on hot chai/coffee, we walked almost 1.4kms towards the Janki Setu. Along the way, we stopped to buy some silver jewellery for Dhiren to take back home and then, we also stopped awhile near the Parmarth Niketan Ashram, where, at the ghat, a group of foreigners were loudly singing ‘Hare Rama, Hare Krishna’ while pilgrims clapped in time to the loud music. That, accompanied by the very flashy lighting and the peppy beats of Indian instruments, gave it all a very rock show kind of feel.
Moving on, we began the walk across the Janki Setu, the first three-laned suspension bridge stretching 346m across the river. Inaugurated in 2020, this bridge is named for Sita, or Janki, the daughter of King Janak. The two outer lanes cater to two-wheelers while the central lane is for pedestrians. Since it was way past sunset, we could only hear the water rushing below the bridge and took a few pictures of the ghat lights reflecting in its waters. Once across, we walked on towards the Iskon temple, from where we took a tuk-tuk back to the hotel. Then, it was dinner and bed.
The next morning, after another breakfast of parothas and coffee, we made our way back towards the Janki Setu. In the morning hours we could see the clear, emerald waters of the river far below. As we looked down, something caught our attention. A funeral pyre was burning away at a ghat below us. As we watched, another pyre was being prepared nearby. The corpse of an old man was carried in and dipped into the holy river. Then, after placing the mortal remains on the pyre, the shroud was taken away and the body was smeared with ghee, giving it a glowing yellow look in the bright sunlight. Never having witnessed a cremation before, we watched mesmerized.
Having completed the rituals, some more wood was placed over the pyre, hiding the body from view. A few feet away, a group of mourners were getting their heads shaved while, yet another corpse was carried down to the ghat, held aloft by four pall bearers.
Deep in thought over the proceedings
we had just witnessed, we continued on our way across the bridge, stopping only
to sip on some sweet sugarcane juice, freshly pressed and served with a dash of
lime. We walked around a quarter of an hour, making our way towards the now
deserted Chaurasi Kutiya (84 huts),
or, what is commonly known as The
Beatles’ Ashram. Established sometime in the late 60s, the ashram served as
an international centre for transcendental meditation. In 1968, the ashram
gained international renown when The Beatles, stayed here to study meditation. Now
part of the Rajaji Tiger Reserve, the
ashram lies abandoned and in a state of disrepair. It was opened to the public
in December of 2015. Since then, many tourists and fans of the English rock
group, visit the site, leaving behind some interesting graffiti.
At its entrance are a huge cluster of egg-shaped meditation cells, the exterior of which are covered with pebbles from the banks of the river Ganges. The interior is stark, with just a small window, a few wooden shelves built into the walls, a tiny toilet, and a small flight of steps (now mostly broken) leading to a little loft from where one can gain access to a tiny terrace of sorts. These cells were designed to offer the solitude required to meditate without distraction. Today, although still pretty to look at form the outside, these meditation domes, nestled together, look like the sets of an Indiana Jones movie.
A few people, mostly foreigners, still come to meditate in the silence of the domes. I spotted some of them sitting cross legged with their eyes closed, and even passed a dome in which a young woman sat sobbing her heart out. Not wanting to intrude in what was clearly a personal moment for her, I silently walked away towards the other buildings on the ashram complex. These included a rather modern apartment which was the home of the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. There is a photo gallery providing glimpses of the Beatles’ visit and some of the other important residents of the ashram. There was also a four story building built in a very interesting stepped pyramid design. This building had many meditation cells and some more egg-shaped domes on the roof. In addition, there was a kitchen complex, a training hall and the Beatles’ Bungalow. The latter two seem to be the highlight for the visitors. The walls of these structures are covered with graffiti depicting the members of the Beatles, and even some lines from some of their more popular hits.
A group of tourists of mixed nationality, waving flags of their respective countries, were planting saplings outside the Hall. That done, they proceeded to walk across towards the exit, singing ‘All we need is love. All we need is love. All we need, all we need, all we need is love.’
Before following them to the exit, I
visited the Chaurasi Kutiya. This is a building that has many narrow corridors,
each lined with around six meditation cells, all equally small and stark in
design, built to house just one occupant each.
All around the ashram, soft, contemplative music was being played from hidden speakers, which I found quite soothing.
Leaving the ashram, we took a cab
towards Laxman Jhoola, a 450ft long
iron suspension bridge constructed way back in 1923. Belief is that Laxmana,
the brother of Lord Rama, crossed the Ganges on jute ropes at the very same
spot. Laxman Jhoola is, today, one of the landmarks of Rishikesh. Unfortunately,
for some time now the bridge has been shut on account of structural damage and
reconstruction work. Just beside this bridge, is the 13-story Trayambakeshwar Temple. Since it was way past noon, the temple was
shut for visitors when we got there, so we headed straight for lunch at Ganga View Café. Catering largely
to the western crowd of tourists, this café is a great place to sit back and
relax, while watching the river flow by.
After a leisurely lunch, we walked around a little, looking for an ATM, the nearest of which is almost 2kms away, at Ram Jhoola.
We then decided to take the ferry
across the river. There is just one little motor boat that plies passengers to
and fro. It’s a long wait for the boat to fill up at the opposite bank before
it makes its way across. We waited almost 30 minutes for a 2 minute ride across
the river. But it was an enjoyable 2 minutes.
Once across, we sat a while at The Honey Hut, a café that serves
up everything with honey in it. The ambience is pretty cosy and pleasant, and
the coffee is not bad, too. We also added a honey-laced cheesecake and a Dutch
truffle to our order. Both good.
This was followed by a long walk uphill as it’s very difficult getting an auto or cab that doesn’t charge too much. Once we got to the main road, we got an auto to take us back to the hotel.
That evening, we had a cab called in
to drive us over an hour away, to the town of Dehradun, from where we were to
board a train to Varanasi. The ride was a smooth one with us reaching Dehra
station around 8pm. Having a lot of time to spare, we dropped in at Hotel Royal for dinner. A rather
old establishment, the restaurant is simple and quite quaint. We asked for a
menu and had just begun to peruse it when the manager came up to us and said, ‘You
can look at the menu, but I’ll tell you what’s available.’ He rattled off a
list of items and we placed our order. The food that arrived was hot, freshly
prepared and very flavourful.
Back at the station, we waited for our
train to open its doors. Cleaning was in progress, so we looked for our coach,
and I was very excited to board. This was the first time we had booked ourselves
seats in the first class AC, and I couldn’t wait to see what that was like. On
boarding, I found, much to my delight, that we had a private little cabin all
to ourselves. It had wide berths with a fresh set of sheets, a little closet to
hang coats and a curtained door that could be shut, to ensure privacy and an
undisturbed journey. After a little happy dance, I climbed onto the upper berth
and promptly fell asleep, only to wake early the next morning after a restful
night’s sleep.
I must say I was quite impressed with
the service aboard this train. Although it’s one of the older trains, the staff
ensures it’s kept clean, coming by to sweep and disinfect the floors at least thrice
during our journey. Washrooms are as
clean as can be expected on a train, and the cabin was very comfortable.
Being delayed by over two hours, it
was well past noon when we alighted at Varanasi Junction, and it was
blisteringly hot! An auto dropped us just beside the St. Thomas Church, from
where we had to make the long walk along Dashashwamedh Road, towards our accommodation
of choice, Bhadrakaali Guest House.
When in Varanasi, it’s always a great
idea to book yourselves into one of the many guesthouses that abound here. The
rooms are usually pretty comfortable and service is largely courteous, not as
grand as one might expect in a hotel, but in terms of location, these
guesthouses are the best. Staying here, one gets to be in the heart of all the
goings-on in Varanasi – the little shops, the narrow, winding streets dotted
with cow dung and monkey poop, the sights and smells of the variety of sweets
being prepared in the local eateries. Bhadrakaali Guesthouse was located at Munshi Ghat and we were assigned
to room 107 that, on opening the windows, offered a great view of the river and
the boats going by. Just above us is a terrace that is also a super spot to
catch the sunrise over the river.
The room itself was better than expected, and although we couldn’t get the hot water and the television working, we were very happy with our choice.
The aarti, as always, was quite a
spectacle, with the well-choreographed movements and glowing flames, but here,
at Varanasi, the sea of humanity witnesses the proceedings with a greater
amount of reverence than those at Triveni Ghat in Rishikesh, joining in chorus
only when instructed by the priests. Once the aarti ends, the crowd disperses
fairly quickly, heading towards dinner and home.
Dinner, for us, was at VSR Caffe, and consisted of some dosas and what they call a meal.
The next morning began with a breakfast of still more dosas and paratha, before a leisurely boat ride, alighting at the famous Manikarnika Ghat, where the funeral pyres never die down. We clicked a few pictures here and then moved towards the Ratneshwar Mahadev Temple, one of the most photographed temples in Varanasi. Built in the Nagara style of architecture, the temple stands tilted, looking almost like it will topple over at any minute. But it’s been standing strong since its construction sometime in the 19th century. For most part of the year, its garbhagriha (sancto sanctorum) lies immersed under water, surfacing only during the hot summer months. When I saw it during my last visit, the garbhagriha was not accessible. This time, however, it was not only visible, but also almost full of priests, sadhus and pilgrims, there to worship its presiding deity, Lord Shiva.
After a late lunch at a nice rooftop café
called Aadha Aadha, we took a boat
across the river to catch the sun setting behind the ancient city. It was a
spectacular sunset that cast a lovely golden glow across the waters, turning
the waters to molten gold.
Most of the day was then spent exploring the nearby temples, BHU (Kashi Hindu University), the Ram Nagar Fort and Sarnath, a holy town where, circa 528 BCE, the Buddha preached his first sermon and where the first Buddhist Sangha came into existence. Starting at the Thai monastery with its tall, standing Buddha, we explored the great stupa and the ruins of the ancient Mulagandha Kuti Vihara and the new temple bearing the same name.
At the Ram Nagar Fort, waiting in line
to buy tickets, I purchased a few earrings from the street vendor standing nearby.
Exploring the fort and its museum doesn’t take long.
All morning, I was glad the driver wasn’t
a chatty fellow, over eager to provide information of the sights around us. You
see, chewing betel leaf (paan) is a
very common thing here. And every time the driver opened his mouth, the car
would be filled with the sickeningly sweet odour of paan.
Back in our room, we, tired with all the exploration, freshened-up, had another late lunch at Aadha Aadha, deciding this time that although the ambience was good, the food wasn’t really much to write home about. We took a little stroll along the main street, stopping for some sweet lassi, served with saffron and thick cream. Once again, crossing the river, we hoped for some pictures of the sunset, but the day had been a cloudy, overcast one and the sun was nowhere in sight. Rather disappointed, we clicked a few pictures and crossed over.
Nursing a headache and sore feet, I began to look around for anyone who’d offer a foot massage. This we found in a small, actual hole-in-the-wall type of shop that, like everywhere else, caters only to males. On informing him that I had a headache and aching feet, he invited us into the shop. Leading me to an inner room with nothing but a thick mattress on the floor and a plastic chair. The room and everything in it reeked of mustard oil, which is what he used for the foot massage. After around fifteen minutes of a kadak foot massage, I was then instructed to sit on the chair. The head massage succeeded on ridding me of my headache and, paying him his charges, we left.
The last morning in Varanasi was spent
packing our bags before heading out for breakfast. More dosas again. After
completing the check-out formalities we dragged our bags all the way back to
the church and the waiting cab that was hired to take us to the Lal Bahadur
Shastri International Airport, at a distance of 22kms.
Dropping our bags and completing the
security check, we sat waiting at Gate 6 for our flight that had been delayed
for over two hours ‘due to operational reasons’.
The flight, when it did commence, was an uneventful one, but one quite interesting on account of some fellow travelers and a crew that was attentive, courteous and very pleasant.
