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julia collings journalist "dark culture wrapped in pink candy" |
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Round the World 2002 |
2 Feb 2002: Snow and Smog Hard to believe that M and I have only been gone a week, as it already feels like months. I used to be so scathing about 'culture shock': considering myself a seasoned traveller above such things. But I take it all back. India is a bizarre country full of contrasts at every turn, wavering between utter beauty and complete squalor. Gorgeous mountains and valleys with fields of basmati rice lie next to long roads full of fumes from the motorised rickshaws and high streets that go on for miles and miles. We arrived in Delhi last Saturday after circling around in the sky for a couple of hours as the airspace above Delhi was closed. We had already taken a long detour from the planned flight route above Afghanistan. As soon as we cleared customs we heaed into the centre of Delhi to find a well deserved anti-stress drink. We round a restaurant with beer on tap only to be told that it was a national 'dry day'. M's face was a picture! Without the comfort of a stiff drink we hung around until we could get the sleeper train up to the Himalyan foothills: clean air, beautiful views, holy trails...we couldn't wait. On the nine hour train hourney we shared a cabin with a wonderfully eccentric old man - Indian by birth and proudly educated at Cambridge. He had returned to India when he graduated and worked for 53 years at ICI before retiring 13 years ago. He invited us to visit his farm on the edge of the jungle, where he is living out his retired years. We got off the train at Haridwar: which is home to one of Hinduism's holiest pilgrimage destinations.  Here in India the river Ganges is worshipped as the embodiment of the Goddess Ganga who was sent down to Earth in the shape of the river tobring life to the earth and to all people. In the town of Haridwar is the spot where the Ganges makes its entry from the mountains. Every day at dusk thousands of pilgrims and tourists gather on a platform to watch Hindu priests (decked out in bells, cloth, facial markings etc) perform a strang ritualistic ceremony. The devout then float candle-lit leaf baskets, filled with flowers and petals, down the river. Having come with all these holier than thou intentions of having a spiritual trip, I have to admit that in the end it was M who embraced the culture more fully. It was he who bought a basket of flowers to sail down the river; and he who paid a tiny girl to paint a bindi on his face for three rupees. In fact I didn't bother going round the concrete and paint temples, bustling with pilgrims. I prefered to sit by the river, where I had a great conversation with an Auryvedic doctor about the meaning of life - including a quick lesson in breathing which he guaranteed would lengthen my life if I practiced it every day. He also believed that the river Ganga has healing properties but I didn't take his advice to sip some of the water! The river banks are filled with pilgrims dousing themselves in the icy, dirty froth; people throwing in relatives' ashes; kids brushing their teeth; and washer women scrubbing monks' robes. Apparently the Goddess Ganga (ie the river) was so disgusted that people were washing themselves in her and thus making her dirty, that she complained to the gods. They then gave he one extra property; to heal those that bathe in the waters - so that the bathers would be pure, and thus Ganga would remain pure as well.  Intriguing and spiritual as they are, the sad truth is that environmentally these towns in the foothills of the Hims. are for the most part rancid dumps of rotting polysteurene and human waste. So much for the quaint little hill stations that M and I were expecting. I will have more time adjust but for M the first week is a real ordeal - and not much of a holiday in the traditional sense. It really hit M on our first night in Haridwar, with the icy wind whistling in through the holes in the windows (this was almost the most expensive hotel in town!). It was freezing, with nothing open outside and nowhere to walk that late, and entertainment consisting of the one channel we could pick up of Indian television (which consisted of around four hours of really bad, studio shot, traditional dance and odd respites of news in English). M wanted to know why WE were on holiday, freezing, bored and cold, while J & J, who are house sitting for us, were snuggled under our siberian goose down feather duvet: happy, entertained and warm! But what a lot can happen in a week... Main Page |
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