Travelling Amritsar to Rishikesh - India March 2010

At the train station for my late night departure from Amritsar to Hardiwar then onward to Rishikesh, there was the usual scene of transitors or perhaps some homeless people sleeping on the platform concrete floors with grey blankets, endless families of all castes and their children eating and drinking hot chai waiting for the train. Amritsar station didn't have any tvs blaring the latest Bollywood filmclips, so I was a little bored. After an hour of staring at the the rats running a muck in and out of various holes in the platform walls and the local store guy throw his store's rubbish onto the train track my train finally arrived.



Another goods night sleep from the rocking of the train and befriending yet more locals and answering their 50 million questions about "what is your good name?" "Which is your place?" "Are you married with children?" "Who is travelling with you?" pick a lie, any lie - that is always my answer - never say as a woman you are travelling alone, never confirm where you are staying, you are always married and your husband is always going to be waiting at the next station for you as he was there on business and you are on holidays :)


So I arrived into Hardiwar and knew that my mission was to find the bus station to take a public bus 1 hour up to Rishikesh - Yoga capital of the world and where the Beatles shacked up and smoked god knows what for one of their albums.

Thing was Kumbah Mela was one - I thought if I came outside the auspicious bathing dates it was be quiet - ha ha ha. I arrived to full military force absolutely everywhere, Sadhu's absolutely everywhere and just masses of people. Thankfully there were also ramps everywhere so I could wheel my bag around and try fake confidence that I knew where I was going. When lost, my bet is always military as there are always being watched and it just feels safer to ask them for help. So of course being the only foreigner in sight amongst a sea of Hindu pilgrims here for a festival that takes place once every 10 years (yes I am special or stupid one of the two) I had all eyes on me, not to mention all touts swarming my way for "rickshaw" "hotel" "tour guide" I confidently brushed them all aside and once they disappeared I approached a soldier and asked him for directions to the bus station to Rishikesh - using his gun to motion me out the gates and "5min walk" away I continued thinking to myself this is India - ask at least 3 people - so another couple of soldiers confirmed his direction was correct but I would have to get a rickshaw to the bus station and it should be only 25 rupees - problem I am a foreigner and I get a special tourist price.

So I kept rolling along their footpath past the info booths for Kumbah Mela registrations and found me a rickshaw guy - there were none to be seen at first but I decided to roll in the direction along the main road (not as suicidal as it sounds) and hopefully one will pull up along side me - sure enough one did but he wants 250 rupee (remember its 25) so I laughed and with a determined look on my face that I didn't care if I had to walk the how many ever kilometers to the bus off I set - he caved and agreed to 25 ruppee :)

Literally it was a 5 min ride down the street and he pointed at a old silver bus that was starting to pull out from the curb bound for Rishikesh. I ran over and tried to get on the bus but the steps were so high I couldn't lift my bag up and no-one around me inteded to help. I felt something in my back ping and I lost my balance as the bus driver lost patience and pulled away - I banged the door and yelled out hoping to grab the attenion of someone nice on the bus and luckily and ancient man who didnt look like he could lift a pen, let alone my bag got the bus to stop and pulled me and my bag aboard. Luckily there was a seat left a couple back from the door and I had my bag in the corridor. Now let me explain this "bus" to you - once upon a time I am sure it was a fine machine but this aged tin box with wheels belonged in a metal scrap heap! It grunted for the entire hour and our hair-raising experience is made all the while worse with both the neck braking speed of the driver, the cursed look from the conductor that he couldnt fit on more passengers due to my bag blocking their way and the need for all my fellow passengers (most Sadhu's or extremly poor villagers) keeping the windows closed and these windows painted blue, orange or red - I decided in the end that was a good thing that I couldnt look out as I might have been sick.

They continued to cram more people on and my bag was being pushed further down the aisle with my little old stick man determined to stick up for me and hold onto my back which everyone is really kicking to get past. The speed that we travelled for that one hour up the windy mountain roads to Rishikesh made me keep having flashes to all those buses that fly off the cliffs in South America killing hundreds of people - I was definately in panic mode for the entire 60 minutes and constantly working out how I would get through the emergency window fighting all these men as we submerged into the ganges.


Finally we arrived in Rishikesh and I promised myself that regardless of how much the trip back down to Hardiwar was - I was paying coming back. My life was worth more than 40 rupee. So the bus station in Rishikesh is just a dirt carpark at the back of town - a few rickshaw drivers are there and no-one else around so your bargaining dosent get you too far. I was also informed that he could only take me so far to my Ashram as apparently rickshaws cant cross the bridge - I just agreed because I was mentally and physically exhausted. Along the way my rickshaw driver saw another tourist and decided to pick him up without asking me - I was annoyed as I knew he was making double the money when we should be paying the share amount, but in the end this driver did me a huge favour picking up this guy - again another guardian angel to help me out.


So the driver pulls up and says the other tourist is going the same way as me and will show me where the ashram is. I reluctantly agree and rip my bag as I try to pull it out from the back of the rickshaw.

I must say and this is rather ironic, typically when I travel I'm not into talking to other travellers, usually only the locals which is silly I know as I could get tips from them but I think I have seen too many tourists behave appallingly so I think its better to avoid them then be associated with them. Turns out, he was a Jewish American writer/hippy that had been in Rishikesh for the last 3 months writing a book on social behaviour for kids back in America - personally I think he had too much pot or fresh mountain air! But hey this guy was a lie saver - I thought the ashram was a simple walk across the street - try 3-4km along a rocky path (which meant he kindly helped carry my bag as I couldnt roll it), up 2 flights of stairs and then across the most scary unstable metal plank bridge floating on these balloons in a rapid flowing ganges!!!
It was the craziest walk ever and I cant beleive that the rickshaw driver was just going to dump me there and point me in the general direction! I never would have walked that way alone towards a river with no-one around - let alone across it. Once across the ganges his ashram was right there but he assured me that mine was a further 5 min walk straight ahead then right at the Shiva statute. Thankfully he was right but to be honest it had been so mentally exhausting to get this far I felt like throwing my bag in the ganges by then and sitting on the floor next to the sadhu's and crying! I knew I was close so persisted then finally after the help of yet another soldier I found the entrance the the Niketan Ashram.

Next blog..Rishikesh and the yoga madness.

Amritsar - The Golden Sikh Temple & Border Closing Ceremony in Punjab, India

After leaving Pushkar I caught the overnight train further north to the holy city of Amritsar in Punjab - 30kms from the Pakistan border. Since my first trip to India and my obsession with Bhangra dance I have obsessed over coming back and discovering the state of India's most energetic and uplifting dance style. So I found myself a little distracted by their religion as Sihks.

If you ask alot of the Indian's living in Australia you will learn that many of those studying are from the state Punjab and whilst the younger one's sometimes choose to try and blend in the West, they are Sikhs and wear turbans to cover their extremely long hair.

Since India is the land of religions and devotion and after watching one of my favourite Sharuk Khan films "Rab Bana Di Jodi" and seeing the Golden Temple on their for the first time in one scene of the most romantic songs which so happens to be my favourite - I knew I had to go and see it's beauty with my own eyes. My gut instincts told me that I was going to find this place as special as the Taj Mahal, but I didn't want to jinx myself.

Arriving at the train station it was just like any other noisy, congested and polluted Indian city. My rickshaw driver zoomed me across town as I tried to spot the difference of the Punjab state vs the rest of India - obviously that was turbans and beards, but the real difference lay in the Golden Temple and the Sikhs. My hotel (Hotel Indus) was right opposite the temple and I paid a little extra to have a temple view room - which meant I looked right into the compound and it was gorgeous.

I have to admit I lost the plot a little when I got to the room as the accomodation was all a little flash compared to what I have been living in for the last two months here in India. Finally I had a toilet that flushes, AC, a mirror, clean bathroom, hot water, telephone, mini bar (granted it was empty), TV AND they even gave me shampoo, toilet paper and soap!

I arrived about 1pm - I had read that you can get a share taxi from the front of the temple t go out and see the border closing ceremony between Pakistan and India - 30km away. So I had the choice to get a private driver for 600 rupees or share for 75 rupees - I decided the latter which proved to be worth the effort and stepping out of my comfort zone. So there was no official box from which to purchase a ticket in the shared cars, just a bunch of random dodgy looking guys harassing visitors if the want to go out to the border. I asked the temple guard who pointed me their direction so I spoke to a young boy who spoke good english and who told me I pay 25 rupees now and 50 later. I was to come back at 3pm and there would be up to 8 people in my car. He had a simple notepad on which he scribbled down a mobile number and the remaining balance due. I took my paper and walked off in a daze thinking to myself I should probably be a little more careful since he told me that it's an hour drive to travel 30km and that I wouldn't be back until 8.30pm and being only 60km from Lahore after the bomb attack a week ago I was a little nervous.

So at the shoe check-in counter at the temple I asked this old Sikh if they were safe to go with, his English was none exstant but he sweetly hunted down an English speaking visitor to find out what I wanted. Once the guy from Delhi explained to him, he took great pride in making it his mission to go and meet these men and see if his "contacts" knew if they were trust worthy. After a few death stares from the driver who didn't seem to understand what this crazy foreign woman was concerned about, the old man said "Teak" (OK) "you come 3pm Teak".

So I came back just before 3pm and to my releif there were about 50 Indian families and couples all there to do the same thing, so I felt alot safer already. We were divided into groups and piled into mini vans, I luckily had one family of 3 and a young Indian couple from Delhi who loved the chance to practise their English and be my tour guides on what was done and why.

The border closing ceremony was every bit the circus act that I had been told but it just was not a smart move that after a day sitting around in Pushkar waiting for my over night train to Amritsar to do - I was low on energy and after our driver had death in his eyes and nearly rolled our van doing 100+km on a construction road and sitting in the sun for 3 hours I was fast whithering away. So at the border we are told no-one is allowed to carry any bags - you can carry your valuables in your hand which as a foreigner screwed me because I had no purse to put my cash in, plus my i pod, camera and phone. Then there was a men's and women's queue and for a 2nd time in India being a woman finally had it's benefits as the queue was a heap shorter. The military is of course absolutely in force out there to the point where mobile phone next works are shut down so no-one can detonate bombs. Women were taken aside by female soldiers and I was a little too frisked by a female soldier who took great pride in groping my breasts! I felt very violated and the young Indian girl I was with thought it was hysterical the enthusiasm the female soldier had for me.

Again women were then ushered off to a female grandstand and men opposite - this suited me fine but I felt sorry for all the couples who were split up. So we sat there in the sun for the next 2.5 hours waiting for the ceremony to officially start. In the meantime they pulled out these huge Indian flags and children were lined up in two's to have a turn running 100m to the border gates waving the flag with great pride and to the loud cheers and clapping of the crowd. Then the old ladies many in saari decided they too wanted to re-live their childhood and go for a run - this attracted even louder applause from the crowd. Then the housewives started encouraging each other to go up and soon the majority of the female stand had gone for a jog in training for the upcoming Commonwealth games as flag bearers I guess :)

Next came the ridiculously loud and distorted Indian top 40 tunes that all refer to Indian pride - of course Jai Ho from Slum Dog Millionaire sent them nuts and in the school crowd beside me 4 boys of about 10 who had clearly learnt a routine stood up and decided to perform this on their seats. To say that I was grinning like a chesher cat was an understatement - if any of them were my sons I would have been a glowing mum. They rocked! The pelvic thrusts and Michael Jackson move's just seemed be the biggest crowd pleasers but their passion to see that they executed every move to the fullest I couldn't stop cheering them on.

So are you remembering that this is a border closing ceremony?? Yes I know its a little odd. I got to the point after so much dancing on the street by the crowd that I was about to get up and volunteer to close the gate for them so we could get out of the heat and I wouldnt be forced to whack the Indian guy that had sneaked into our area waving his Indian flag in my face!

Patience I know - there's only so much you can give in India especially when you are tired and it's hot. Finally the MC - yes a MC started to fire up the Indian crowd chanting "Hindustan!" and the crowd responding with throat bursting proudness. I looked across at the Pakistan border grand stands to see what was going on over there - only around 100 women veiled up on one side and 100 men on the other in their white kaftan's. Their MC sounded more like a Mullah preparing them for war then the humour of the Indian one. The Indian guys were starting to fire up when they heard the passion in the Pakistani men's voices and I could only imagine the obscenities they were shouting at them.

All of a sudden it was like a yodelling competition between the Indian and Pakistani soldiers. The MC for each country would hold the mic up to a soldier and generally at the same time the idea was for them to chant a note and see who could hold it the longest. The first two times India one and you'd think they had just cleaned up the gold medals at the Olympics. Then Pakistan started to win, so I noticed the MC would delay the Indian's start to hide this fact from the crowd. After around 20min of this painful yodelling competition the guards one at a time did this crazy power walk and high air kick that made it look like they were auditioning for Moulin Rouge. I was delirious by this point so started commentating to myself to pass the time.

With each kick and sometimes this weird shoulder wiggle the crown would loose their minds with excitement - I must admit though team Pakistan looked like true warriors in their black and red uniforms almost resembling arab ninjas. After more than three hours they took about 10 min to pull the flags down and pretty much slam the gates on each other's face and it was over.

I really wanted a photo with the soldiers with their huge red material fans on their hats, but they were all a little grumpy and had no patience for even the tourists. On the way out with my friends from the car I thought I noticed something over by the barbed wire fence between Pakistan and India but I wasn't sure. The guy from Delhi if I noticed what was happening and I laughed and told him that I thought it was just my imagination - clearly not... The Indians were pissing through the fence onto Pakistan! The military conveniently took their time stopping them doing it, but I was told this happens everyday - Incredible India!

So according to my Lonely Planet they Sikh's offer free "Lengar" at the temple in a massive dining hall for all visitors irrespective of race, religion or caste - this is truely special in India. So after my little border closing ceremony I was famished and my friends from Delhi suggested that I accompany them to the Lengar Hall so I could learn how it works and be set for the next couple of days. Off we went into the temple and the process was something like this.....

1. check in bags and keep valuables on us again and keep metal token

2. check in shoes at the counter next door and keep metal token

3. put on head scarf to enter the temple grounds

4. walk over to the lengar food hall entry wash hands and feet at communal taps

5. take a metal plate from first person, spoon from next and bowl from last

6. follow the crowds into the hall and stack up again each other on long canvas runners on the marble floor

7.place dish and bowl on floor in front of you and patiently wait 2 min as the first guy with dahl (yellow lentil curry) comes along with his metal bucket and ladle and pours into the first holder in your plate.

8. put up both hands as though making a cup for water and the chappati guy will give you two

9. another vegetable curry

10. the water guy comes along and fills up your bowl with his big tea pot

11. the dessert guy comes along with another metal bucket and ladle and scoops a delicious rice curd into your dish

12. enjoy wearing have the food as you eat with your bread and hands (spoon is for dessert)

13. have as many refills as you like whilst the locals freak out that this foreign girl can eat so much! :)

14. If you dont finish the same time as your row be prepared for the man sitting on a ride on street cleaner that squirts water on the floor in front of you and has a huge squeegy at the back to clean the filthy curried floor. (see you could have a army of kids if you owned this machine!)

15. follow the crowds out the door and give your spoon to the spoon guys and plate/bowl to the others.

16. return to communal taps to wash hands and face as there are no such things as serviettes

It was so organisied and smooth running that I am starting to beleive the Sikhs should be running India! Not only for this reason but they are such compassionate people. Everyone who works there is a volunteer I was told - you give up a day like community service to serve the temple visitors - so the shoe guy, bags, water, food, cooks, cleaners, guards and dishwashers are all volunteering. People from the community offer to help peel onions, cut potatoes - it's just amazing to see such a giving group of people.

Furthermore I picked up a publication and it tells that they run schools, mental institutions, hospitals, accommodation, drug dispensaries - so much for those down on their luck. Plus all the food that apparently 50-60,000 people flock to receive for free everyday, the free accommodation in two huge blocks next door to the temple where pilgrims can stay for free for up to two days and the huge courtyard where the homeless (many of them rickshaw drivers) are given mats and blankets, showers and a safe place to sleep each night. It's mind blowing how much this must cost to run each day. I asked how is it afforded and they said that the Sikh pilgrims who visit each day leave donations as well most of those in the state of Punjab donate a % of their salary to the temple and its projects. I was so touched and impressed that I left a great donation and still wanted to give them more.

After eating I went for a walk around the temple compound and the golden temple actually is surrounded by holy water that the pilgrims drink and dip themselves in and their are huge Koi fish in there that the kids just love. In th middle of this square marbled grounds is the beautiful golden temple itself - covered in 750KG of gold, it truly is amazing! Throughout the compound you can hear the chants and tabla music of the holy Sikh leaders that are sitting within the golden temple. Pilgrims line up to enter and offer "prasad" or offering to them and see the holy book that is brought into the temple during the day and out into another building in the evening.

I learnt that the Sikhs are bound by the 5 Ks:

1. Kes (uncut hair)

2. Karingha (small wooden comb)

3. Kara (iron bracelet)

4. Kirpan (sword to be worn at all times - and everyone had one so I got one too!)

5. Kaccha (like special underwear that I saw them wear when they stripped down to dip)

For me the Golden Temple has been the highlight alongside the Taj Mahal for this trip to India, but more in a soul cleansing way. The hypnotic sounds of the men chanting and sitting with the locals on the marble walk ways facing the temple - I must have sat listening and thinking for on average 4 hours a day it was very special for me. It was so very calming and right up there with my Varanasi morning Pujas ritual on the Ganges.

Next blog.... Rishikesh yoga capital of the world.....