Update: Tuesday, 7 June
Biddy's Boots #5
Rishikesh, India
7 June 2022
From Pushkar to Varanasi to Rishikesh
As I sit here in Good Times Café on the quieter side of Rishikesh, I reflect on my first 2 weeks in India. There is so much I have experienced, so much I wish to share – 3 or 4 drafts I have sitting in my blog folder which will at some time be posted. Perhaps post-travels.
Many have commented that I am doing my own ‘eat pray love’. Initially, I frowned, but upon reaching India and after unintentionally visiting 3 of the holiest places in India, I’ll claim my pilgrimage. Plus, I’m heading to Europe for pleasure and hopefully my last stop will be all about island living.
Mostly I share my highlights with you, but do not be fooled, there are moments that are challenging and call for me to dig deep - moments where I long for a friend to bounce some ideas off of, moments where I wish I was not walking alone as I learn to get comfortable with all eyes on me, moments where it would be just so nice to share the joy, pop my clothes in the washing machine or open the fridge and eat some cheese.
This country is vibrant and colourful; it is rich and the most inspiringly organized chaos I have seen.
Though Pushkar moved me to tears and moved me in a way that I did not expect, there was also an experience which left my heart sad, as if had been grabbed and thrown around jestfully. I left there having experienced both the light and the dark side of India. Trust no one and I might as well not be here, but be too trusting and I'm sure to get ripped to shreds. Thus, I'm learning to find the balance. I have also come to realize that I need a few days to adjust to a new country, a new city. And so, I remind myself to offer up some self-compassion as I grasp the ways of a new place.
My 26-hr trip northeast from Pushkar was a great success; sprinkled with one blessing after the next. Train stations are an interesting place here. Everything is in Hindi. Except for the entry/exit signs and numbers. And you have every class of person on the platforms. Sitting. Sleeping. Eating. Staring. Waiting.
I soon found my train and walked cautiously to find my seat – I had booked a 3rd class ticket for the1st leg of the trip as it was the only seat left. I breathed a silent sigh of relief when I saw that I was placed in a cabin full of women and children. As I may have mentioned in one of my messages, there was no AC, it was 30 odd degrees by 6:30 am, the windows were open to allow for a necessary breeze which meant the combined stench of urine and pollution would often sweep through the coach. But that didn’t matter. We were a good vibration of feminine energy. And despite the language barrier, the next 2 hours were spent sharing stories, pictures, smiles and a few bindis. Mothers, daughters, aunties, sisters, cousins, granddaughters. I’m not sure our stories will completely match up if compared, but it was utterly delightful. For all of us. That much I can be certain. I left them with a renewed sense of hope and a bindi on my forehead.
I had a 4-hour layover in Jaipur and sat with my scarf, which I wet to keep cool, over my head. A couple of older women came to sit next to me, they were teachers too, on their summer break. This time we could share a fluent English conversation and they encouraged me to taste their homemade goodies. For the 18-hour train trip to Varanasi, I was in first class which meant: AC, a pillow and blanket, chai tea and curtains for privacy. I had made friends with a family one cabin over from my private sleeper. The dreaded Delhi belly started to rear its head and they kindly bought me a coke and gave me some natural tablets to ease the discomfort, which thankfully worked. Though I did have a moment of panic where I jumped off my bunk and ran to stand at the open door of the moving train ready to, well, let it rain on the tracks.
At 7 am the following morning, I stepped into Varanasi.
My tuk-tuk driver could not speak a word of English but I managed to get him to take me around to view various accommodation options which proved to be unsuccessful. I eventually settled on something I was familiar with - the sister branch of my accommodation in Jaipur.
The not-so-glam side of eat-pray-love you ask? Having to wait for my room. For 4 hours. In the heat. Dirty. Smelly. Tired. A welcomed downpour of heavy rain was such a relief to the dry heat as I lay on the outside fouton, floating in and out of sleep.
After sleeping for the rest of the day in my new room, I emerged with my sense of adventure renewed and found my way to a riverside spot to sip on a mint nana! I realise that one’s experience of a country is largely influenced by the season. If it were winter, I’m sure the waft of masala chai tea would hang in all my memories of India, but instead, it’s all the fresh fruit and lemon mint nanas!
I shared a room with a local Indian woman. Gosh she was great! Soul sisters! Another earth angel sent my way as she shared all the dos and donts of Varanasi. We stayed near Assi Ghat on the one end and I would walk most mornings and evenings along the Ganges making sure I stopped to watch the aarti which is performed religiously at 5am and 7pm every. Single. Day. It is truly fascinating to see with anything from tens to thousands gathering along the river in devotion. The Ganga aarti of Varanasi is a shining beacon of devotion and bliss that makes us experience the divinity in and around us. Since ages, no day has gone by when the holy Ganga River has not been adored.
Of course, I sniffed out a sweet coffee shop nearby and spent most afternoons in the AC making friends with the owners, sharing stories. They hooked me up with their good friend and I was off to watch sunrise on the Ganga. This was undoubtedly a highlight for me. The energy of the water is strong, it quietly and consistently whispers for you to enter. At the river, on the river… one of the few places in India where space feels limitless and inner peace is reflected in the physical space. The morning was warm, fresh with hope and washed in a dusty pink as the city slowly woke. Serene. Ethereal. Comforting. Familiar but not in the sense that I have been there before. Familiar in feeling, in spirit, in energy. Deeply moving.
Day in and day out, pilgrims and devotees come to Varanasi as they believe that to bathe in the Ganges is to wash away your sins. To die here is to escape the cycle of reincarnation and achieve instant salvation. I think Varanasi is a city that encompasses all of what India is: dirty, chaotic, vibrant, colourful, ancient. A place where life meets death, where people come to die, where the burning of bodies takes place in and amongst life being lived. It is rich with stories and history, purpose and spirit. Yin and Yang.
Varanasi was too hot to do much between 11am and 5pm, and so I did not explore too many temples or the Ramnagar Fort that it is well known for. BUT the city is famous for its street food and here I ensured a taste of it all – lassis, tomato chat, paan, kachori, aloo tikki.
When I stepped off the plane at Jolly Grant Airport in Dehradun, I whispered a little prayer that I would find a fellow traveler making their way to Rishikesh. I stepped onto the streets and a tall Colombian looked at me and said, “Are you going to Rishikesh? Would you like to share a taxi there?” Thank you, Angels.
Once in Rishikesh, I soon made my acquaintance with the warmest smoothie-making man I ever did meet. I have popped in each morning and with a head full of dreads and a heart full of love, he has generously shared some insights, life perspectives and smoothies with me.
Update: Wednesday, 8 June
OoooOoooo, this morning I made my way down to “Ganga Beach” just after sunrise. A white-sanded shore along the Ganges where many gather for their daily bathing. I sat quietly against a rock as I watched two friends cleanse in the waters, absorbing the stillness and the energy of the river. An elderly, grey-haired man doing his morning lap, offered me some sweet chia tea which he carries over his shoulder and I sipped on it whilst taking in the scenes that form part of the locals’ daily lives. Dressed in my shorts and a tee, I entered the waters which were cooler than I anticipated. In fact, it was freezing. But my daisies, it was bliss! The sweetest relief from the past 2 weeks of relentless heat.
I changed accommodation a couple of days back and as I made my way, I whispered another prayer, “Please may I find someone going to Dharamshala within the next few days so that I have an ally and can share the travel costs.” I hadn’t even made it to Pyramid Guest House, and walked straight into a young Israeli woman who looked at me and said, “Are you looking for accommodation? We could stay together for a few days and share costs of a room? And then I am going to Dharamshala on Thursday.”
So here I am, with a bus ticket tucked in my pocket and ready to head to Dharamshala. I had hoped to put some roots down in Rishikesh and attempt to master the art of slow travel. However, my capacity for the heat is dwindling and the Tibetan culture, mountains, and cooler climate are leaving me no choice but to make the journey further north.
With love
Bridge
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