Across the Universe

At the end of Day 10, Part 1, I crossed the Lakshman Jhula bridge over the Ganges.  That brought me closer to my ultimate destination in Rishikesh:  the ashram where the Beatles stayed in 1968.

My Sweet Lord

Having gotten a dramatic view of Triambakeshwar Temple before crossing the Ganges, I was looking forward to visiting it.  When I entered the temple, a friendly man greeted me.  He was eager to give me a tour of each of the several shrines along the ground floor hallway.  And he was really eager for me to make a donation at each shrine.  Naturally I didn’t have many small bills.  After leaving a larger bill at the 3rd shrine, I told him I had no more to give at the 4th shrine.  And just like that, my tour ended and I was on my own!

Me and My Monkey

Paul McCartney wrote “Why Don’t We Do It In The Road” after watching 2 monkeys have sex nonchalantly on the road in Rishikesh.  I didn’t see any monkey mating going on.  But I saw plenty monkeys on my way down the eastern (left) bank of the Ganges to get to the ashram.

At the end of the road, I came across a dry wash that ran down the hill and into the Ganges.  I realized that this was my opportunity.  I was still carrying around the coconut that I had received on my birthday at Kalkaji Temple in Delhi.  I walked down to the Ganges, took off my sandals, waded into the water, and tossed the coconut into the fast moving water.  Finally, I made the sacrifice to Mother Ganga that she deserved.

Sexy Sadie, What Have You Done?

Having made my coconut sacrifice, I headed up the wash, hoping I’d figure out how to find the ashram.  A young British couple approached me from a little further up.  They warned me about getting into the ashram because there was a group of guys there who were trying to rip them off.  They said the guys had on uniforms and were pretending to be official, and they were demanding money from them.

They did their best to convince me to turn around.  But I was determined to find out what was going on for myself.  I hadn’t gone through everything I had to get to Rishikesh, just to turn around when I was mere yards away from my destination.  So I kept heading a bit further up the wash along the fence that seemingly held back the forest to my right.  I soon came across an opening in the fence. At the opening was a little guard stand with a uniformed official inside.  He asked me for the equivalent of about $5 to enter.  It all seemed pretty legit to me.  I don’t know what was up with those crazy Brits!

The ashram is located within what is now a national park and tiger preserve.  I didn’t see any tigers.  (But apparently Bungalow Bill did.)  I didn’t find anything odd about the guys in uniform at the ashram entrance. What a pity if that couple missed out because they were paranoid.

The whole place was very quiet and quite eerie. Very eerie, actually. At one point, while a young couple was walking several yards ahead of me, I stepped on a twig.  The young woman just about leapt out of her skin when I disturbed the quiet.

John Lennon wrote “Sexy Sadie” about his disillusionment with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi during the Beatles’ time at his ashram in Rishikesh.  He originally titled it “Maharashi”.  Potentially to avoid legal trouble, or maybe just to make it less personal, John changed the title and lyric to “Sexy Sadie”.

After roaming around a while, I came across a building that was like a large hall.  It’s where the best graffiti was located.  There was a young man sitting on the edge of stage, strumming his guitar and singing Beatles songs.

We’re On Our Way Home

Leaving the ashram, I felt I had really accomplished something.  Flying thousands of miles, first across the Pacific and then halfway across Asia.  The long ride to Rishikesh after not managing to catch my train in Delhi.  The long walk up one side of the Ganges and down the other.  All to come to this legendary place.  I easily could have roamed around some more.  But I had a long night of travel ahead.  (Or so I thought.)

I walked up the road back to Ram Jhula.  On the other side of the bridge, I took a tuk-tuk back to the Ganga Kinare so I wouldn’t have to rush to catch my bus to Haridwar.  I got a snack at the lovely restaurant facing the Ganges.  I was somewhat sad about it.  The Ganga Kinare was such a wonderful hotel in a beautiful setting, I wasn’t in a rush to leave.  I had been there barely 24 hours, but it seemed like longer because I was made to feel at home there.

The staff at the Ganga Kinare was incredibly accommodating.  I had been planning on taking a tuk-tuk to the bus stop, but the hotel manager insisted that the hotel driver take me there in the house car.  Well, thank God!

By the time the driver and I reached the bus stop, night had fallen.  The bus stop consisted of a large, dark parking lot with lots of buses and no attendant that I could see.  The destinations displayed on the buses were pretty much all in Hindi.  As we drove through the lot, I was very grateful the Ganga Kinare had sent me with a driver because I wouldn’t have otherwise known what to do what I got there.

The driver grabbed my bags from the car and led me to the bus to Rishikesh.  He stepped on the bus, came back out, and told me not to get on the bus because there were no seats available.  I’d have to stand all the way to Haridwar, one hour away.  We walked around the lot and he soon found another Haridwar-bound bus.  But there seemed to be some confusion.  After after talking to the bus driver for a while, he told me that the bus wasn’t leaving because there was a lot of traffic on the road to Haridwar.  I still had plenty of time to catch my overnight train to Amritsar in Haridwar, but the cushion I had allowed myself was slipping away.

Before long, the driver took me back to the first bus.  I’d have to stand all the way, but at least I’d get to Hardiwar and make my train.  But, just as I was about to board the bus, everyone starting piling off.  The driver told me an announcement had been made saying the departure had been canceled.  At this point, the driver gave up.  He didn’t know what to do.  I was just glad he was there with me, so I wouldn’t have to be there alone, totally clueless.

Fortunately, I’m a resourceful guy.  I told the driver to call the hotel manager and tell him that I’d pay the driver to take me to Haridwar.  Once the call was made, we were off on the road to Haridwar.  Along the way, I was very glad I hadn’t had to stand the whole way.  The drive was a very long hour, and traffic really was bad.  But I knew I’d catch my train.  Alas, India wasn’t done messing with me.  No, India had one final travel mishap in store for me, and it was a doozy.

I jumped out of the car with my bags as soon as the driver pulled up to Haridwar Railway Station.  I was a little nervous about my overnight train to Amritsar.  It wasn’t going to be a first-class cabin, as I had had on my overnighter from Delhi to Jodhpur.  I had heard that theft could be an issue.  To prepare, I brought a cable-style lock, but I had no idea how I was going to secure my bags.  Turns out, it wasn’t an issue.  My train was canceled.

I stood in line at the info desk.  Fortunately, there were no language issues like I’d had when I couldn’t find my train from Delhi to Haridwar.  But they couldn’t really help me.  The next train to Amritsar left in the morning, and I wouldn’t get there until late in the day. I had a flight back to Delhi the next morning. The only thing that made sense was to skip Amritsar and spend the day in Haridwar. I had to resign myself to the fact that I was going to miss the Golden Temple and the fascinating border-closing ceremony at the Indian-Pakistani border.  Curse you, India!

Fortunately, when we pulled into the station, I had noticed a large Western-style hotel just past the lot.  They were able to me offer a room at a very cheap rate by Western standards.  The hotel was a little dirty and dumpy, and I kept thinking, what do you expect for Pakistan?  I was over-tired and I kept thinking I was in Pakistan!  As soon as I got to my room, I used the app on my phone to book a train to Delhi for the following afternoon.  Then it was time for dinner.  Considering how dumpy the hotel was, I was pleasantly surprised by how good the food was in the restaurant.  I thought, pretty good for Pakistan!

[Now before any Pakistanis get upset with me, please know that I hope to make it to Pakistan some day, and I’m sure my food and accommodations will be just fine.  It’s just that I was so tired, my mind was on the blink!]

[Factual information is primarily gathered from Wikipedia, so you know it must be true.]