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| From India Dec/08 |
Well, here goes!
Last time i wrote i a proper post i was on may way to meet Bruno and Radhe back in the deep dark heart of Uttar Pradesh, Rajpur, aka the middle of nowhere. :) Well, after 24 hours of bussing i finally got to Bahjoi, the nearest, rather smallish town. There i met Bruno and Radhe who'd already gone shopping for all the ingredients to put together a big Christmas dinner. And that evening we even managed to bake a pie in the newly built oven. Ah, good company and home made food.. Quite a treat, that! Them Ashramites sure done save my Christmas!
Boxing day i spent doing my washing, getting a proper haircut (a first, even for me! i asked Bruno if he had a big pair of scissors and he tuned round with some massive garden shears, which i, of course, couldn't refuse.. snipedy snap and my hair was a couple of inches shorter) and going downtown with the boys so Bruno could do some last minute shopping. The next day after the car breaking down twice - luckily it'd only run outta gas - we sped down to Moradabad, where Bruno did some more shopping and the both of us had to get a train: he back to Delhi, me to Varanasi.
From the time i walked in the ticket to when i finally reached Varanasi: 24 hours for a 12 hour journey.. Hazaaah! But then again back in Varanasi i met people who'd been stuck in stations (Delhi, Agra) twice as long as i had, only to spend another 18-24 hours on the train.. My Cockney/Gujarati friend held the record: 33 hours for a 12 hour journey!
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| From India Dec/08 |
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| From India Dec/08 |
On the train in met Prabhat, a lovely character, who works as a molecular engineer, on his way to meet his university friend Kamal, a professor in agricultural economics. And we immediately hit it off: chatting 'bout, life, relationships, family and friendship.. Good stuff!
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| From India Dec/08 |
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| From India Dec/08 |
Being rowed down the Ganges just before sunrise was another unique experience. Just as i was nearing Assi Ghat i met three Russian guys who were friendly enough to let me jump in with their boat.
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| From India Dec/08 |
Watching people bathing, praying, beating clothes against a rock, seeing cremation ceremonies as the sun rises over the Ganges and Varanasi's ghats..
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| From India Dec/08 |
Leaves a lesser souls awestruck.
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| From India Dec/08 |
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| From India Dec/08 |
The next days i always went down to the burning ghats and chatted a bit with the people there explaining you the ceremony and which body died of which disease or accident, how richer or poorer people get on with their burning preparations..
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| From India Dec/08 |
Or i just sat there, writing a bit, breathing in bits of a burning person (they do use ground up sandalwood among other things to mask the scent), watching people dry sheets and clothes, a little billy goat pissing on one of the sheets, a man chasing it away with mock threats, his chum asking him what he's gonna do now, with that sheet, men sitting by and chatting, playing cards, going up close to the fire and having a proper look, as goats, cows and water buffaloes graze on paper ribbons, newspapers and the flowers cast aside next to the water's edge after the body has been submerged in the Ganges and thus blessed, seeing the 'untouchables' in charge of the burning using a long pole to fold the burning corpse double, looking on on as a rice paper kite cut loose twirls down right in front of my feet and is smashed to bits by a grinning kid with a stick, who then runs of to join his laughing friends, only for the torn bits to be eaten by a goat some minutes later, getting up to the railing myself, where yet another guy from Manali (half of Manali must move down to Varanasi for the winter) comes up to me and asks me if i don't need something to smoke.. No thanks. See ya, mate. And more people walk up as another body is being carried down to the river. And the burning and the bustling life surrounding it, all those people, the straying animals, the whole damn show just goes on and on.. And you just go very silent.
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| From India Jan/09 |
So, now i sorta allowed myself to get stuck in Bijapur, a quirky type of small Indian city: no non-Indian tourists to be seen - for two days i was the only white boy in town; the place is littered with Muslim monuments ..and booze joints. Funny combination.
I passed by Kolhapur on my way here, just to see one of India's weirder Maharaja palaces: the Shree Chhatrapati Shahu Museum, aka the Maharaja's new palace. "Designed by 'Mad' Charles Mant, the British architect who fashioned the Indo-Sarcenic style of colonial architecture ... a cross between a Victorian train station and the Addams family mansion" (LP).
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| From India Jan/09 |
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| From India Jan/09 |
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| From India Jan/09 |
I'm spent. I'll just have to explain you next time round how i got holed up in Bijapur, how i passed New Year and all that came to pass afterwards..
Loadsa 'Lord almighty, i'm so homesick for family and friends' luv,
-hx.














Darling,
ReplyDeleteI Can a bot understand your family and home-sick...I am sure that the feeling will vanish...to return. Your advantage is that you are mastering your life...you can return whenever you want...and we are here waiting for you. Hugs
Giorgia