Mark's Blog

In Rishikesh

Rishikesh is the first stop on the way north into Utteranchal to Gomukh, the home of the Ganga's source. It's known as the Yoga capital of the world and it's also where The Beatles famously met with the Maharishi Yogi. It's a beautiful place beside the Ganga-ji, just as she turns from being a young to a mature river. Most westerners stay in Laxman Jula, on the other side of the river from the large Main town.

Westerners come to Rishikesh above all for the Ashrams and the Yoga. There are also those who come to party and this sets up a tension immediately between the stay-up-late crowd and the get-up-early crowd in any hotel you care to mention. Rishikesh is a holy town and therefore no alcohol, meat or eggs are officially available.

This is what the Lonely Planet guide (or just "the book" when you're over here) calls the "definitive view of Rishikesh". The suspension bridge over Laxman Jula. Bikes, tourists, cows and monkeys all use it for the windy walk across the Ganga. One of these monkeys decided to perch himself over the entrance to the bridge and take a slash on the heads of the folk passing underneath. I was unlucky enough to have been one of them, but lucky enough to have been wearing a broad-brimmed hat.

I came here after a week recuperating from the wisdom tooth extraction, eager to continue my journey. Rishikesh was the final place I visited during my last visit to India so, like Pushkar, it's a place that's haunted by images from that time. I managed to exorcise them this time around. I stayed in the Sant Sewa Ashram Hotel. More a hotel than an Ashram really. It had a fantastic view of the Laxman Jula bridge, brazen wandering monkeys and a fine balcony space where many an evening was spent hanging out, listening to music and chatting. I stayed 10 leisurely nights in Rishikesh altogether and left one year older, having celebrated my birthday in style. By the end of it, I was definitely in the "party" camp rather than the yoga-ing early risers.

Among the first people I met in Rishikesh were Simon and Dorn. Simon, from Switzerland, had a collection of flutes like myself and knew how to use them. We had a good laugh throughout the stay in Rishikesh and decided to travel together for a couple of months through the Himalayan valleys. More about that later. Dorn, a mad Israeli guy, had us in stitches for about two days, brought his (very welcome) guitar (which he couldn't play) and treated us to a lavish chicken dinner at the Swiss Cottage, just outside the city limits of Rishikesh. When he left, Simon and myself inherited some of his excess stuff, including an incredibly handy multi-country triple adapter which takes any kind of plug. Sorted me out for all the gadgets I have to recharge.

Simon, the Swiss baba who I travelled with for a couple of months after Rishikesh

The Cuddlyiest baba in Rishikesh

One day while wandering over to Rishikesh town with Simon we heard the sound of a tin whistle playing "The King of the Faries" from a nearby cafe. It was here that we met Sean, whom Simon had met in Almora. We hung out for a few days and swapped tunes. It was nice to play the whistle again after the bulky bamboo flute. Sean works at festivals in the UK and hasn't lived in Ireland for a while. He was holed up in an ashram here for two weeks, practicing meditation.

Sean, the meditator from Mullingar

Turning 34 in Rishikesh

My birthday turned out to be a fantastic day, well marked with libation and song. I hung out in the morning with Simon, my Swiss buddy who I'll be travelling with for the trek to Gomukh and an Irish bloke called Sean. Had a gorgeous brunch of hash browns and illicit Omelette at the Paradise restaurant, where we usually eat. All that was missing was a rasher. Harry, the Nepali guy who runs "the paradise", didn't charge me.

The plan was to head over to the Swiss Cottage restaurant where they serve a fabulous chicken dinner. Eight of us trudged over to the other side of the river and got a large rickshaw up there, where we were promptly informed that they had too many customers and couldn't serve us.

Undiscouraged, we went up the road where there was an organised party -- with beer -- a "Saturday night fever" dancefloor and bad '70's music blaring through the speakers. But they had BEER. It was like being in the pub.There were about 15 people in all at the party. Every Irish person in Rishikesh must have been there. Martin from Tuam, Sean from Mullingar, Ruth from Waterford and myself. There were two Israeli friends, Amit and Michal, and English guy, Chris, whom nobody liked, A sound Scottish bloke, a flaming American from SF and his Swedish boyfriend, an Australian healer called Helena, Simon the Swiss guy and an insane Indian man called Rama who was an expert at imitating animal noises. He was a scream. I got some video footage of his show.

We stayed there chatting till the wee hours. Then we had a bit of a session. A Scottish/south African woman with a voice like Desir'ee sang away in the background and they all finished it off with a rousing chorus of "happy birthday". I sang a few tunes. I don't think the day could have gone better.

The following evening, Chad, Andrea, Rafa, Simon and Myself went back over to the Swiss Cottage to claim that Chicken sizzler that was denied us the previous night. It was well worth the wait and dispelled the hangover while adding nicely to the afterglow of the night before.

River Rafting

One Day, Michal, Simon and myself got tickets to do the three hour river rafting trip down the Ganges. We met for breakfast at the Paradise and headed off by jeep with a couple from Minnesota. The rafting was amazing. In a rubber dinghy we paddled down river along about six white water rapids. The whole thing had a difficulty rating of 3+ out of five. Natural rollercoasters. The best bit though was the body rafting, where we all jumped out of the dinghy in our life jackets and just let the river carry us along on its current. This was a gorgeous sensation, just being borne along by the fast flow of the Ganga. There was a lot of singing and horsing about as the monkeys looked on from the beaches, puzzled.

We prepare the dinghy just before a few rowing exercises and off we go.

We were joined by a group of Indian Tourists from Bombay. I've been struck by the fact that whenever I've met people from Bombay on this trip that they are exactly like other westerners. In their dress, their language and their travelling attitude, its as if they are from another European country that lies within India. They are always wealthier than other Indians and travel in much the same manner as Western Tourists. This group were all part of an international network marketing organisation which sells gold. A kind of pyramid selling scheme with a more sustainable business model. They didn't call it that though. The most vociferous girl in the group claimed that at this stage, she earned $2,500 per day in "passive income" from those further down the food chain from her. Despite this, they were all crap rowers, having no rhythm whatsoever and when it came to the "rock jump" of about 15 metres into the river, they nearly all chickened out after a protracted time of vacillating, perched at the top of the rock over the river.

Simon has a moment of Inspiration before we set off on the raft.

A devotional riverside installation of Shiva on the Ganga at Ram Jula, downriver from Laxman Jula.

The Waters of the Ganga

The belief that the waters of the Ganga are holy and pure is widespread among Hindus. A dip in the Ganga is supposed to wash away the bad karma from your soul. Even at Varanasi, where the Gagna has been turned into an open suir and dysentery is widespread, many refuse to believe that the waters are in any way dirty. The Ganga has miraculous waters, they claim, and cannot get dirty. It is totally free of bacteria, pollution and disease from its source right down to the delta in Bangladesh. This also means that they can pump as much crap into it as they like, which they do at every town and village along its course.

The currents are treacherous around Rishikesh and while I was there, the death occurred of a young kid who went in for a dip, got into trouble and sank, never to come up again. Andrea and Rafa were only talking to him moments before he went in. He waved and shouted but his friends thought he was only joking. It all happened very fast. Another man was seen strolling across the Laxman Jula bridge, when all of a sudden he leaped up onto the side and flung himself into the Ganga below. He didn't come back up again. Drowning in the Ganga is considered to be a very auspicious death. It's said that during the Kumbh Mela some of the sadhus will challenge each other to a fight to the death on the particularly auspicious days, since death on ode of these dates, in the Ganga, would guarantee freedom from rebirth.

Still, the devotional energy that gets poured into this river by millions every day brings an athmosphere of peace and reverence about the Ganga like no other river. Where else is a river worshipped as a goddess? This is one of the reasons that I planned to continue up its length to the source at Gomuck. And that's what Simon and myself set off to do after leaving Rishikesh.

Posted by Mark at April 10, 2004 03:44 PM