Back to India

---

Our week long vacation in Rishikesh was so relaxing, it seemed to not be in India at all. With warm memories of temples, beaches and Mount Valley Mama Cottage fresh in mind, we left at noon. Taking a bus to Haridwar to then catch an overnight into Amritsar, we had about 8 hours to kill. We wandered the bazaar, had a leisurely lunch, wandered about some more, and by the time we got around to checking our clock again we had a mere 7 hours left. Completely out of ideas and beginning to get weary of the constant hustle and bustle of a typical Indian downtown, we decided to head out to the more spiritual hustle and bustle of the crowded holy bathing spot in the river.

As we'd been to this bit before, we knew basically what to expect, and weren't at all disappointed. We set up camp on some steps, with a good view of the river and a nice place to sit (nice being relative; I'm fairly certain we sat on a combination of dust (95% human skin), dirt, and dried throw up (possibly (hopefully) just dried phlegm)). As an added bonus, a couple of the beggar/homeless/starving widow types commonly seen on every public flight of steps in India decided to get into a fight. Not just a screaming match, this one actually got a bit physical, and didn't end until one grabbed the other's throat and gestured wildly to the piece of cloth that the loser had evidently stolen from the winner. When this bit of tomfoolery was added to the general chaos and soul gratifying beauty of thousands of men, women and children stepping into the river in quite a bit fewer clothes than people of their body types should be wearing in public, it made for a very amusing way to pas a few hours.

Of course, we had more than a few hours, and were soon quite bored of the spectacle. Not to mention the fact that for a couple dozen of the passersby, we ourselves were part of the spectacle. Maybe half a dozen times previously, one or the both of us have been asked to pose for photos with the locals (who am I kidding; even when they ask me, it's only to get Lucy in the shot. Several times I've said yes, then when she refuses to stand and grin they simply walk off in disgust), but nothing like this day. For some reason, more than a few people decided it wasn't enough to merely pilgrimage to one of the holiest spots in all of Hindu-dom; no, they wanted to bathe in the Ganges AND get a picture of whitey. Kids stared and pointed, and if we smiled at them, they would inevitably be dragged over by their parents to sit on the steps between us. One young man was even dragged over kicking and screaming (several times, in fact. He was putting up such a fuss that more than one attempt was necessary to get him to sit next to us, a feat accomplished only when his big brother sat between he and the freakish white devil). My personal favorite was the father and cute young (probably 5 years old) daughter in an adorable pink dress (they do pinks and oranges better in India than any other country I've seen). The daughter sat between Lucy and I, and the Father videotaped us for probably about a minute. I have trouble holding a genuine smile for more than a couple seconds, so the wait was a big grueling (gruelling? I think the latter is right, but the damn spell check says one 'l') for me, a bit beyond the boundaries of my ability to muster enthusiasm for the no longer special and unique treat of being immortalized on celluloid (actually in pixel, as I'm sure the camera was digital). After the photo shoot, proud Papa showed us some stills he'd captured, and in all four of them Lucy was front and center, with me barely on the periphery if in the shot at all. Very appropo.

Despite my vociferously stating several times that I'd had enough peeping at the semi-naked bathers, we stayed on until dusk. Good thing, as the place really started to fill up in the half hour or so before night fall. A sing-songy chant was started over the loud speaker, and as soon as it started getting dark several torches and bonfires were lit. More people sent prayer candles down the river, as many as a dozen at at time, and the whole environment was changed from one of a jovial carnival-bath atmosphere to one of raucous chanting and numerous semi-dangerous open flames. The whole thing was very striking, with the dark silhouette of the temple one direction, the looming figure of a thirty foot Shiva statue the other and small to large flames everywhere you looked. Definitely worth the wait.

The train was not worth the wait.

---