Easter Monday 2nd April

My eyelids fluttered awake to soft light pouring through the pale curtain, the volume of the toot toots from the road helping to rouse me from my first good night’s rest. It was a very nice feeling.

Our room is fairly monastic all painted in white, with a little dark furniture, but perfectly comfortable. A warm wind had got up overnight, which had dried everything but blown some of my smalls off to drape the hedge below. Off went Jeremy on retrieval once again. This time not eaten by monkeys. What a helpful hound he is.

We’d had a good if ‘don’t look’ scary sort of drive to Rishikesh the previous afternoon, arriving unfortunately at the wrong bit of the hotel. We’d then had to bump our bags all the way down some precipitous steps to the correct building. I managed to resist mine taking me down with it.

We survived however and checked in to the Yog Niketin by Sanskriti. Brilliantly, we were shown to a room overlooking the Ganges with a little balcony which had the perfect sort of wires to hang one’s washing on. What a mighty river she was looking yesterday: wide, fast and blue.

We’d had peaceful afternoon followed by doing some essentials – or washing them should I say.

Soon it was time to go for dinner, and we were lucky enough to come across the Chotiwala Restaurant only two or three minutes away along the front. It was packed but they found us a spot. A feast was then conveyed to us. There is no meat, eggs nor alcohol served here, but you really don’t miss it. Staggering out with tummies full of kadai paneer, jeera rice, dahl, cucumber salad and garlic naan, 😱 we took a stroll down the streets, but it wasn’t easy. It is clearly a favoured rat run for the bikers, as they weave and hurtle picking off unsuspecting tourists, tooting wildly….but they missed us!

Back at the Yog Niketin we fell asleep to all the outside bustle and clatter still going on.

Seeing stars

Unusually for him, Jeremy had booked us into what he thought was an astrology class this morning at 8.15. It turned to be an astrology consultation. We arrived downstairs in a very pleasant room overlooking the strip of garden and river. It was the yoga room I noted guiltily. All these chapattis take their toll..

Our astrologer arrived, a young man called Prakesh, who began by asking ‘How can I help you?’ We were both a bit stumped (I could sense Jeremy wriggling sceptically!) until we realised what this was about. A mere look at astrological alignments. He then enquired of our birth dates and drew our up respective charts. There were long silences. I sat, motionless, determined to ‘stay in the moment’. Astonishingly, whatever truth lies behind it, he came out with some very interesting observations and comments about our personalities and direction. It’s not for discussion here, but we left feeling positive with some things new things to think about.

On tour

Our next tuk tuk, devoid of any suspension bar our own spinal columns, conveyed us to the Bharat Mandir Temple. It was closed until 1pm so we made our way down to the river.

It felt rather desolate, with the barren rocks stretching far down to the Ganges which looked greener and thicker than yesterday. Children were playing by the water – some had even improvised some cricket.

Some rough dwellings lined the shore.

We continued down a paved front to the Triveni Ghat.

This too was a dismal spot populated by a few vendors of garish plastic bottles, for collecting river water, and statues of deities, but people were down there selling other wares too. An ascetic wandered around, lightly flagellating himself in a non committal sort of way.

Then back we went through the mad streets towards the Bharat Mandir Temple, passing these fabulous bulbs of rosy garlic on the way.

The Temple was very simple with some seventh century carvings on the outside. There was a touch of erotic physicality about them which one could sense even across the centuries.

Following our visit we made our way back along through yet more traffic. A cow sat motionless on the bridge spanning a dried up river bed, strewn with litter.

Jeremy diced with death dashing across it to take a photograph but I lingered. Looking down my astonished gaze fell upon this family of wild boar. Pigs – possibly not in blankets, but definitely in the proverbial! Mud, mud, glorious mud…

We hailed a little bus like tuk tuk to get back this time, and were suddenly joined by several others until there were nine of us on board, each person getting out wherever they wanted. A system we could emulate! We bobbled back up town and alighted at the hotel.

Lunch at the Chotiwala again!

It took me all my will power to fight the urge for some ice cream afterwards. (Well known weakness).

Aarti again

Catching the ferry across the river we took a stroll round another part of town, very close to the ashram where the Beatles famously hung out in 1968. This was far more touristy with many more hippy type western visitors in evidence. A long corridor of tiny shops selling trinkets and yogic books ran close to the river – with every enticement of incense and music to lure one in. Perhaps ‘stroll’ wasn’t quite the word as the usual issues of itinerant bovines and thrusting mopeds prevailed.

Sadly too, we were frequently accosted by beggars. The lower levels in this society actually sit and function at ground level: in a sort of visible socio geo stratification. Children as young as five with imploring little faces and softly spoken carefully learnt English begging phrases would often spirit into our path. It was horrible to ignore them and turn away.

There were many extraordinary sights.

We took a turn round the Parmath Ashram, where a lot of people stay to practise yoga and meditation. The public could enter and wander round. There were hedged courtyards bounded by cells, meeting halls, yoga rooms and a dimly lit canteen.

People lay around on the grass, chatted on their phones, and generally swarmed all over the place. It didn’t feel terribly spiritual! Then I caught sight of these two elderly gentlemen holding hands and coming out for a walk. It was heartening to see.

The afternoon wore on to the time of the Aarti. A parade of yellow robed boys emerged from the ashram and across to some stepped frontage by the water.

An enormous statue of Shiva presided over the scene.

Little be-candled flower boats would once again be released onto the water after the usual singing and chanting rituals. We watched for a time.

Whether it was the heat or the occasion I suddenly felt impelled to paddle in the Ganges too. There were special steps down which you easily reach it. The water was icy but wonderful in contrast to the heavy hot air. It stopped feeling cold after a while. I wetted my hands and liberally dabbed my head and neck; then stood for a few moments, staring out away from the crowds; a little private baptism in the river.

The Aarti became more and more populated by spectators so we left after a time. It was a relief to re-board the ferry (effectively not much more than a canopied rowing boat with two large outboards) and feel close to the water.

By now I was feeling truly weary and grubby. But… there was one more Aarti about to take place near to our pad. So after a little persuasion and reserving the pleasure of a shower just a bit longer, I joined Jeremy on the steps. This one was undoubtedly the most beautiful and the best. An enchanting choreography of swinging light and smoke performed to atmospheric music made for magical viewing. We found ourselves joining in with the clapping and swaying in rhythm with the beat. The man next to me reverently joined his hands in prayer. This was a very different in atmosphere from the two previous Aartis we had witnessed. In conclusion, the officiates came round and offered us all the chance to wave the fiery snake mouthed lantern. This we did, then retired, glad to have stayed the course.

A fitting farewell to our time in Rishikesh.

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