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Published: September 15th 2015
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a temple in the Siddartha back-garden So I just got to Baggsu. I'm at 'Siddartha Yoga', it's raining...really heavily. The yoga guy's not here so under a leaking shelter, and keep moving my bags for new drier spots. But despite this, enjoying the calm and beautiful setting. This morning I had a final kundlini session on the rooftop. The sun was out. I had my sunnies and cap on with the attached back cover to protect the neck from the sun. I genuinely don't enjoy the favourite past time of most hot country visitors, frying in the sun, or 'tops off tats out' or aka sunbathing. Why? I simply don't get it, you get hot sweaty and burned, then wait for a tan, then lose it. Then back to square 1...? So anyway I was kundlini-ing. I'd never heard of it before, and at first the 7 shakras idea was beyond me, and it still is, but at least now enjoying it. And the penultimate is the third eye, our old friend. Its deffo there somewhere. I'm still thinking a past yogi had a penchant for Greek mythology.
The journey from the ashram was fairly interesting. The 'scooty', I love that word, is not going to
fit my bag and so it's the car. Rashpal is giving me a lift, at least as far as the 'ATM', I owe money. 'I think you sit in back yes?' 'Uh, ok' we settle in 'why the back Rashpal?' 'Mitu's school is in army, yes'. We are picking his son up en route. A mystifying fact, Rashpal used to want to be in the army and now seemingly is encouraging his son in that direction. I quiz him further I don't understand. 'Very strict rules, you are white man'. Ahhh. So tentatively we approach the gate. The result, no 4 wheelers through this particular gate only scooty, I'm assuming this rule applies to 'civies', 'so we try other and if no we come back and they let us'. Hahaha, no, not the miscommunication, army logic. I make a blip comment, 'give man a gun and power, weird things will happen'. 'Army in India is good army.' Wow I think I might be on thin ice. Then further justification, 'terrorist big problem. Security must be very tight.' That wasn't what I was getting at but clearly certainly in this area there's a lot of pride in the Army. The idea
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an interesting army ad of service for country is strong. What I didn't realise and learnt for the first time yesterday is the whole area around the Ashram is Army owned, including the Ashram!! I've been living on the 'pads', ie an estate for army families. Pretty ironic!
So having collected Mitu we stop off at an ATM, doesn't work. Good. We find another, it does, phew. I did not want to have to traipse around Mcleod. I have a big bag, its crowded, its probably gonna start raining which not only provokes general discomfort but bad smells. 'I drop you at tuk tuk, yes?!' We get there, nothing going on, incomprehensible Hindi between Rashpal and the only guy there, 'tuk tuk strike'. They have unions?? 'You also have strikes in Europe?' Uhh yep. I'd like to know their demands, they would probably make for interesting reading. I later find out it was a country wide strike, so not even any tuk tuk's in Delhi that day.
It works well for me though cos Rashpal then takes me all the way, only 5 mins anyway. He drops me off on the edge. I start to make money way into town. Baggsu just
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i like how the gate reflects the size of the army camp looks cooler. Wider streets, more open planned, not as though 1 architect's vision has been realised but the buildings built 1by1 to fit with the terrain and ground, and to complete my first impressions, a horse with saddle, minding its own business on a hilltop in amongst the urban sprawl. So they got cowboys in this town.
Then 2 monged out guys come up to me as I'm looking at the horse to sell me a room, but very badly. I'm not an expert on drug abuse, but their eyes are like puss n boots' when it pretends to feel sorry for itself. I'm not sure I even say anything to them and they stumble off. As I have a big bag, its fairly obvious i'm the new kid on the block, and it seems every second person has a room to sell. But no-one presses the issue. I ask a cabbie for a lift. I give him the address, 'no point, only 500metres by car then walk, and we charge 100 rupees, better you walk'. So I start on my '15 mins' expedition. The guy I'm going to see e-mailed me with directions. Basically I climb a small
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a big army presence in this area mountain. On the way up I keep asking for directions, which is hard, I need to strain my neck to look up, my bag is very heavy btw, and either they don't know where it is or they dont understand me. How can i not make myself understood? I have one word to say, a proper noun. S-i-d-d-a-r-t-h-a. Nop, even slowly doesn't work. And so using what I remember from the e-mail, I keep going up. And up. And up. I literally can't see the town now. Eventually, the sign, not a mirage, I touched it to check and enter what can only be described as a hamlet. I see lots of sandals, got to be it. An old woman, ah, she's the housekeeper, then more old women...there's a lot of housekeepers? my weighted back thinks Siddartha has a large retinue. Then, the cowboy, 1 old man, and his harem. Or the OAPs pimp. He points to the next house. And indicates the long way round. I work out no one's in, then set my bag down under the shelter. It then starts raining.
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