India Overload: Final thoughts

After a twelve hour overnight bus ride from Dharamsala we arrive in Delhi in the early morning hours. Already the heat of the day is rising, promising another hot day on the Ganga plain. We are at the end of our trip and we are hot, tired and generally overloaded with our experience of India. Overload is the operative word here as everything seems to trend towards overload. It is sensory overload of the highest magnitude. The sights, sounds, smells and tastes of India assault ones every waking hour. As previously touched upon, these impressions run the full gamut from some of the most incredibly beautiful experiences I have had to some of the most disgusting.

Beyond sensory overload, India is stretched to capacity with its 1.2 billion inhabitants who, at times, seem to occupy every square inch of the country. The land seems on the verge of exceeding its carrying capacity as well as exceeding the capacity of its infrastructure. The following pictures give a sense of this tendency towards overload.




Many times I have absolutely hated India but our last day in Delhi made me fall in love all over again. We spent our last 30 hours with a perfectly wonderful couple we had met at the wedding in Kolkata, Jasbir and Amrit. They graciously invited us to come stay with them in their home. They are intelligent, absorbing and most hospitable. We were fed until we could not eat anymore.

A "snack" at Jasbir and Amrit's

They took time out of their busy schedules to show us some of their favorite sights in Delhi.

Deb, Richard and Amrit at Qutb Minar

We had many interesting discussions on politics, religion, and problems of the world. They were more familiar and conversant about America than most Americans. Knowing that people like this exist in a country with as many problems as India gives me hope that India will somehow rise above its problems of the past and tackle the problems of its future with intelligence, compassion and common sense.

Amrit, Richard and Jasbir at Jasbir's temple project

Jasbir and Amrit embody the most important part of India; its heart. India is a vibrant place that, like it or not, is fully alive. At the center of this life is the heart of its people. Our very best experiences in India was experiencing this heart.

Jasbir, Amrit, Richard and Deb out on the town

Dharamsala

View of the Dhauladhaur Range from Triund

We arrive at the Gulu Devi temple after a bone jarring, stomach churning ride up from McCleod - Ganj. My breakfast of yoghurt and fruit is somewhere between my stomach and the atmosphere but soon calms as I take in the fresh air and beauty of the surroundings. I look up toward Triund 3000 feet above my head. The steep sided Himalayan "foothills" which, anywhere else at 7000 feet would be called mountains, are cloaked in rhododendron forests in full bloom. Patches of vivid reds and pinks accent the green of the conifers and deciduous trees clinging to the mountainsides.


We shoulder our day bags and follow the trail that at first contours gently around the mountain. The gentle slope soon turns to a rubble stairway and we are climbing steeply up the mountain across near vertical slopes. At times the trail is eroded and we step carefully to avoid a five hundred foot plunge down the mountain. It is slow going as the footing is difficult and Deb is not feeling her best.

Deb and Richard at Triund with Moon Peak in the Background

After a few hours we arrive at a small teahouse perched on the side of the mountain. We rest while sipping chai and admiring the vista of the valley below and mountains above.

After the break we push on as the trail gets rockier and steeper and we finally push up to a small plateau where the panorama of the Dhauladhaur Range of the Himalayas is fully in view. Peaks in the range rise to over 21,000 feet and the view is breathtaking from our 10,000 foot elevation. We lounge on the cropped grass of the high alpine meadow as the sweat cools off our backs and nibble on snacks to restore our energy.

Deb at Triund with Moon Peak in the Background

We watch as afternoon clouds slowly shroud the peaks making it difficult to tell where the snow ends and the clouds begin. After relaxing for a few hours we reluctantly start the 9 mile trek back to McCleod-Ganj.

McCleod-Ganj is the current home of his holiness the Dalai Lama who is exiled from Tibet. It is situated at about 6000 feet in the foothills of the Himalayas just north of the town of Dharamsala. The next day we visit the Dalai's temple complex which sits on a ridge with magnificent views of the Dhauladhaur Range and the valley below. While not an architectural masterpiece like the temple in Ladakh, it is nonetheless a spiritual place and very pleasant to visit.

On our last day we went to the nearby village of Naddi for a spectacular view of the Dhauladhaur Range.

View of the Dhauladhaur Range from Naddi

We enjoyed this brief respite from the heat of the plains below but know soon we will have to return to Delhi for our flight home.

Sunset from McCleod-Ganj

Amritsar: A religious experience

We check our shoes at the cloak room and wade through a pool to wash our feet. Purified we enter the Golden Temple grounds, the holiest temple of the Sikhs. We pass through an ornate archway beneath a large white marble building capped by an onion shaped dome to catch our first glimpse of the Golden Temple.






It appears to float on a large rectangular lake. The temple’s golden superstructure glows in the dusky night sky seeming to float on a foundation of white marble in the twilight. The central dome is bracketed by four smaller domes at each corner. In between the corner domes, even smaller domes line the parapet wall of the upper reaches of the temple. The metalwork is ornately decorated in swirling designs and capped with 2000 pounds of gold leaf. Two tall minarets to the south of the lake were built to provide lookouts for any potential attackers.




The lake is bordered by broad marble walkways that extend to multi-storied white marble buildings. A marble causeway crosses the lake to the temple to provide access for hundreds of worshipers.



Thousands of people circle the lake on the white marble paving. Many women are dressed in traditional saris along with men in traditional dress wearing multi colored turbans. Over the loudspeakers the rhythmic chanting of Sikh priests reading the holy book is accompanied by tablas and stringed instruments.

We walk around the perimeter of the lake and find a place to sit along with thousands of pilgrims. As we sit, the sky slowly darkens and flood lights play on the golden structure.




The evening is warm and a light breeze ruffles the surface of the water. We are at peace far removed from the traffic and hustle of the city. The chanting of the priest changes tempo and the crowd rises to its feet. There is some sort of litany which the crowd responds to taking turns with the chanting priest. The exchange ends when the Sikhs all bow with foreheads to the ground.




We are tired from a night and day on the train from Bikaner to Amritsar so we decide to call it a night. Exhausted from our hot and rapid tour through Rajasthan we oversleep and do not hit the street until 9AM the next morning. Deb and I walk over to a car park behind the temple to inquire about cars to Waga to see the border closing ceremony. As has become the norm in a back alley, we bump into Tom again. He is on his way to the Jallianwaga Bagh memorial garden which is a memorial to the nearly 2000 Indians shot in a massacre by British soldiers.




The Indians who were peacefully demonstrating against the policies of the British were shot without provocation or warning. This occurred in 1919 during the Indian struggle for sovereignty. After visiting the memorial, we walk back over to the Golden Temple to visit the inside of the temple. Deb and I line up on the causeway with hundreds of pilgrims. It is a mosh pit of the Sikh faithful pushing their way towards the temple. Many carry offerings of sugared ghee that gives off a strong odor magnified by the hot day. The chanting priests are accompanied by many of the crowd chanting and reading prayers. The line moves in in sporadic bursts and within a half hour we are inside the temple. Priests sit on each of the three levels temple chanting or reading prayers. Some of the crowd stops and sits, others move through quickly. We wander around and sit on the upper level. The room is lavishly carpeted and ornately painted with swirling designs of flowers on the walls and a canopy of stars on the ceiling. The combinations of sights, sounds and smells seems designed to draw the visitor into a calm and serene meditative state. I close my eyes and am transported along with the rest of the crowd into a collective consciousness of serenity and peace.




That afternoon we find a share cab, for Deb, Tom, Justin and I, to go to the nearby India-Pakistan border to witness what is one of the more bizarre rituals I have ever seen; the daily closing ceremony of border between the two countries. It is a combination of nationalistic fervor, theater and part Monte Python skit. I have provided a link below which captures the essence of the ceremony

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9y2qtaopbE

It is all the more bizarre when one considers the very rocky relationship between the two countries. One might think with the level of cooperation embodied in this ceremony on a daily basis that the two countries could settle their disputes. Yes, it is a crazy world!

Rajasthan

Kumbalgarh Fort near Udaipur

Rajasthan conjures up images of vast desert expanses criss-crossed with camel caravans connecting the walled cities of the Great Thar Desert of western India. Unimaginably wealthy maharajahs ruled the land while living opulent live styles in fairytale castles. Towering desert fortresses rose above the desert sand providing an oasis of security for friend and a rain of arrows, boiling oil and cannonball sized stones for foe. Now the maharajahs have been replaced with indifferent bureaucrats and the camel caravans have been replaced with the honking, beeping, smoke belching vehicles of modern day India. Once clear desert skies are giving way to the polluted haze of the industrial society. Pristine deserts are now strewn with the detritus of modern civilization. Rajasthan, like much of the rest of India, is a study in contrasts. Old and new, sacred and profane, pristine and filthy, lovable and hateful.

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We visited the towns of Jaipur, Pushkar, Udaipur, Jodhpur, Jaisalmer and Bikaner in a circuit around Rajasthan. The towns run the gamut between utterly charming and spiritual to dirty, polluted s%#tholes that have little appeal. We had the misfortune to undertake this leg of our journey during unseasonably hot weather with temperatures exceeding 100 degrees every day. Somehow it seemed fitting even though at times it was extremely uncomfortable and exhausting.


My notes on Rajasthan are too extensive to relay here, so in the interest of brevity I have included a brief overview of our circuit coupled with extemporaneous impressions to take you there. As always, a picture is worth a thousand words so I have included several of Deb’s photos to complete a picture for your mind’s eye.

We left Khajuraho (I am still blushing) in a hired car as the other transportation options were very limiting. We had intended stopping in the town of Orcha which is said to be a smaller and mellower version of Kajuraho. However, in conversing with our driver we discovered he was actually going all the way to Jaipur so we shifted gears, as we often do, seized the moment, and after the requisite haggling for an hour agreed on a price to go all the way to Jaipur some 400 miles away. Being too far to drive in one day we spent the night in Agra and started early the next day and soon crossed into the Indian state of Rajasthan.




As we crossed the line into Rajasthan, the character of the landscape changed almost immediately from the great plain of the Ganga to the scrub and sand of the Great Thar Desert. Ox carts became camel carts. Brightly turbaned men and equally brightly sari clad women replaced the more conservative dress of Madhra Pradesh. Within a few hours we arrived in Jaipur which is the third apex along with Delhi and Agra of the so called Golden Triangle of India. These three cities are considered the “must sees” of India. However, I am not sure why Jaipur is included with the other two. There is no other way to describe Jaipur than as a s#%thole. It is dirty, polluted, over-trafficked and the most pedestrian unfriendly place I have ever been. We took an immediate dislike to the place. Oh, and I forgot to mention it was hot.


Deb and I were both in a “so what” mood as we did drive-bys of a few major sights and ended up high above the town at the Amber Fort. This soaring edifice of golden colored sandstone is well worth a trip (but skip the rest of Jaipur).



Less than 24 hours later we were on a bus to Ajmer. While waiting for the bus we met another traveler , Tom, from Washington. After a brief chat, we took our seats but this was not the last we saw of Tom; for the next ten days or so everywhere we went he kept turning up. It was uncanny how our paths kept re-crossing.



After a few hours, we were in Ajmer which is the jump off point for the holy town of Pushkar. I was going to skip this town because its most prominent feature, a lake, is dry. Despite this, Pushkar turned out to be one of the highlights of Rajasthan. This is one of those places on the planet that has a strong spiritual connection. Even though I am not a religious man, it is a place where you feel the spirituality and an indefinable sense that something very powerful is going on. Although heavily touristed, it is even more heavily visited by pilgrims who come to bathe in the sacred waters of the lake and visit one of the few temples in India dedicated to Brahma, the most supreme in the Hindi pantheon of gods. We were so enchanted by the town we spent and extra day here but finally and reluctantly hopped a late afternoon train to the Lake City of Udaipur. Of course we ran into Tom even though we had parted ways in Ajmer.

One of Udaipur's "floating" palaces

Udaipur was another town that immediately captured us. We arrived well after nightfall and spent an enchanted evening at a rooftop restaurant overlooking the lake. Opposite us, two “floating palaces” lit up with strings of lights created a fairytale scene. We were carried away by the balmy evening breezes with visions of the opulent lifestyle of the Indian Rajas. We ate and drank well past midnight lost in the magic of the moment. Of course the next day we ran into Tom on the street.

We next visited the town of Jodhpur renowned as the blue city of Rajasthan. It seems many of the current inhabitants did not get the memo about being blue but enough of the town is painted blue that the moniker still applies.


Aside from its colorful reputation, the main feature of Jodhpur is a magnificent fort built on a 200 foot hill that towers over the city. The 80 foot walls seem to grow organically out of the hill as the hill and walls are of the same red stone.

Jodhpur Fort

We arrive at the gates early and I find a spot to wait for the massive gates to open. I sit on a low stone wall as the desert morning sun warms my back. The cool of the night slowly dissipates in the heat of the rapidly ascending sun. I face the Jey Pol (gate) of the Mehranghar Fort. The Persian style arched doorway pierces the delicately carved façade providing a view into the treed courtyard beyond. As they probably have for the last 600 years, women dressed in brightly colored saris enter through the gate. Soft rhythmic music starts to play over the public address system. Although I don’t understand the words, the lyrics provide a plaintive welcome to the day. A sitar followed by a wooden Indian flute creates a musical chorus for the lyrics. A gentle breeze wafts up the ramparts carrying the sounds and smells of the old city below. Birds chirp as they flit in and out of the gate and arrow ports of the fort. A flock of pigeons bolts into the sky spooked by a bent old woman coming to clean a small temple near the gate dedicated to Ganesh. She rings the temple bell and leaves an offering of small flowers. She circles the temple, offers prayers, bows and wanders off into the warming day.

People continue to stream up the slope of the large stone paved walkway into the fort. The ochre walls soar 80 feet into the clear blue sky. A palace perched on the walls cantilevers into space providing a delicate counterpoint to the massive walls of the fort. A faded mural to the right of the gate tells of days of grandeur long past.

Palace on the wall of Jodhpur Fort

Of course we run into Tom in a back alley near our hotel.

Detail of palace at Jodhpur Fort

Leaving our hotel in the early morning we shared an auto rikshaw with Justin, a misplaced Irishman now living in Vancouver, Canada. Justin, like Tom kept turning up over the next several days. We caught a bus to the town of Jaisalmer, another in the string of desert outposts in Rajasthan. It is another town with a soaring fort on top of a hill that looms over the city. We are in gold sandstone county now.

Jaisilmer Fort

As we approach the town, the fort looms out of the sand looking like a sand castle built at the beach. Its rotund bastions look like they were formed with a giant's pail and shovel.

Repair work at Jaisalmer

Of course we run into both Tom and Justin at a festival in the fort and retire to an Italian café perched on the wall of the fort and enjoy beer and food after a very hot day. The glow of the setting sun on the fort walls is soon replaced with floodlights that accentuate the height and architecture of the fort. The next day we decide to move on to the last stop in Rajasthan; Bikaner.



The alarm goes off at 4:45AM. It is much too early but we need to catch the 6AM bus in a futile attempt to beat the desert heat. The past several days have exceeded 100 degrees with yesterday being the hottest at 107. Our room looks like a Chinese laundry that was hit with a bomb. A jury rigged clothesline strung from curtain rod to door hinge to coat hook and back again to the door bolt is draped with the now dry laundry. The contents of our bags are strewn from wall to wall. Yet fifteen minutes after the alarm shocked us into consciousness, we are packed and ready to walk out the door.

On empty stomachs, we wheel our bags through the dark streets of Jaisalmer. With the help of our headlamps, we dodge cow pies, trash and the open gutters of sewage that cross the road. The streets are filled with demonic eyes as the blue LED beams of our lamps reflect in the eyes of countless cows and dogs. Deb and I are both leery of cows. I have been butted twice in the past week and yesterday Deb was charged by a cow. If the cow had not slipped on the pavement we may have been in the hospital instead of on our way to Bikaner.

I also notice that our lights seem to be illuminating swarms of small insects. I am relieved when I realize that is only dust motes. My realization turns to revulsion as I ponder on the composition of this dust; cow dung, camel droppings and who knows what else. As I involuntarily cough, choking on the toxic mix, a dog, awakened by our passing, charges us barking ferociously. In a panicky voice I yell, “Back off!” and the dog slinked off into the darkness. With adrenaline coursing through our veins, our pace quickens and we arrive at the bus stand in short order. The welcome glow of a chai stand beckons. I order two chai and we are soon sipping at the hot sweet elixir as we wait for our bus. After a half hour wait we climb onto our “deluxe bus” to discover that instead of the usual three or four abreast seating there are two narrow seats on one side of the aisle and three on the other. Since this is a seven hour bus ride through with 105 degree heat likely before the end, I am less than thrilled.

The driver climbs in, fires up the diesel, and we are on our way to Bikaner, which is to be our last stop in the desert of Rajashan.

The bus fills with passengers in stop and go spurts as we lurch our way out of town. The day warms and we gather more and more passengers until the aisles are packed. By 8:00 AM the air is hot. The heat is compounded by the jammed aisles which restricts the air flow through the bus. I dig my elbow into one smelly old man who keeps leaning into my lap. He finally gets the message and moves down the aisle to be replaced by a snot nosed kid who stares intently and incessantly at me. Only five more hours to Bikaner. I can’t wait.

Richard, Justin and Tom after a hot day in Rajasthan

Bikaner is another dusty, dirty, desert town but we visited a fine fort with a palace that was the best preserved of any we have seen. Of course we ran into Tom. We missed Justin here as he opted to go to Jodhpur instead. We head to the railway station to take the night train to Amritsar where we will leave the desert, the heat, and Rajasthan behind.

Khajuraho

WARNING!!!! The following post contains pictures that are not suitable for young viewers. It may also not be suitable for those of you who blush easily. If you are offended by graphic depictions of sexual acts read this with your eyes closed.

This visit to Khajuraho was another episode in our journey that raised the question, "Which society is more evolved; our "modern" society or that of the ancient Hindus?" You be the judge. (Note: Don't go past the elephants if you are offended or have a weak heart.)

Some of the temples of Khajuraho

We rolled into Khajuraho in the late afternoon after a bone rattling five hour journey on the heavily potholed and partially paved roads of the Indian state of Madhra Pradesh. For a state that contains so many important towns and tourist sites such as Agra, Varanasi, and Khajuraho it is shameful that the roads are in such a sad state. The only sane way to travel through this part of India is by train or plane. However, we never claimed to be completely sane!

We felt an immediate affinity for the town of Khajuraho. There was a sizable man made lake to our left as we drove into town. These lakes are called tanks in India and at one time were the lifeblood of the community. They provided a steady supply of water during the long dry period between monsoons. Heavily developed with concrete or stone steps called ghats, inhabitants would bathe, wash clothes and take water by the bucketfull for other domestic uses. They are still in use today for these same purposes. Many are considered sacred as is the tank in Khajuraho. The other thing we noted about the town is that is cleaner and less ramshackle than many of the Indian towns we have visited.

Above the tall mango trees that rim the lake we spotted several tall temples soaring into the bright blue afternoon sky. These sandstone spires are the famous temples off Khajuraho.

We were soon delivered to our hotel. We entered a veritable oasis removed from the hustle and bustle of the town. A garden courtyard accessed by marble walkways was rimmed with rooms on one side and banana trees and larger trees entwined with giant philodendron plants. A fountain in the center completed this serene vision.

We were escorted to our room which continued the promise of the courtyard. It was a rare budget room for India. It was immaculately clean with coordinated wooden furniture and color coordinated drapes and bed spread. The ceiling was accented with plaster crown moldings and a large rosette that framed the ceiling fan. The polished marble floor and bathroom made us feel that this was somehow a mistake and must cost much more than the $15 a night that we have been quoted.

After a quick wash, we hit the street and walked back to the tank we saw on the way in. After walking along the tank we settled onto one of the ghats looking across the tank as the blazing Indian sun set among high wispy clouds. Thousands of parrots silhouetted against the darkening sky cackled their way from the surrounding jungle to a large mango tree in the center of the town.

Sunset with parrots

We found an excellent little Italian restaurant with a rooftop overlooking the city and gorged on decent pizza and Kingfisher beer before tottering off for an early nights rest.

We arose early to beat the heat and tour buses to visit the temples. These famous temples built at the end of the first millennium to honor the Hindu gods are renowned for the elaborate sculptures and carvings that cover both interior and exterior. The carvings feature Hindu gods and scenes from the life and times of the Chandela dynasty. While there are recurring themes of hunting, warring, and scenes from everyday life the main focus of these temples is women and sex.

Woman with naga halo

These temples are a Kama Sutra set in stone which features couples and at times, trios, foursomes, and more, engaged in every possible permutation of the sexual act. While this aspect of the temples is titillating and to be frank quite stimulating, the most remarkable thing about these carvings is the quality of the workmanship and how these thousands of sculptures have been integrated into these ancient architectural wonders.

The stone carriers

Each temple features two or three bands of sculptures; some in near full relief. There are long bands of carvings depicting people engaged in acts of everyday life. There are elephant trains, military troops and Hindu gods and goddesses featured in niches that break up and accent these long bands of carvings. There are countless sculptures of semi-clad voluptuous women in provocative poses that display their assets to the fullest. Women are shown preening before mirrors, or applying henna to their feet, or just stretching into poses that exude femininity and sensuality.

Woman in sarong

Barber removing thorn from woman's foot

Auto-eroticism?

Woman preening in mirror

Each temple is dedicated to a Hindu god who is featured in the inner sanctum. Hindus still visit these temples daily and revere these figures. While these temples are dedicated to gods, as mentioned above they are a celebration of womanhood, sensuality and sexuality. These depictions show that the ancient Hindus accepted that sex was an integral part of their lives. They believed the sex act was a path to spiritual enlightenment. Judging from these sculptures, they must have been very enlightened indeed.




Stop here if you are offended by explicit sexual sculpture








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