Himalayan Chants

You see it first from the air as you fly low into Dehradun airport ... hundreds of coloured specs of varying hues, scattered in a random pattern across the green fields. They're houses and they make a brilliant  contrast to the decaying brown and grey tones of the ones seen in Kolkata. As l disembarked the scene was of the Himalayan foothills which surround Dehradun, the suns glow low in the sky behind them. What a perfect and peaceful way to be introduced to this mountain area. But that was soon to change. 

We met our driver outside the airport. A small, bubbling man with little English but lots of gestures and abundant energy. The car was expensive and new, his pride and joy, so we were surprised by the speed and erratic nature of his driving ... even for India. Soon he intertwined singing with his sparse English patter, obviously preferring anything to silence. He bounced in his seat, swerved erratically as he turned to chatter with us, babbled about how beautiful Donald Trump was (mistaking us for Americans and trying to impress!!), accelerated around blind bends forcing the oncoming traffic to dive off the side of the road, braked and giggled 'unexplainedly', then took off again, seemingly aiming for the largest trucks to overtake. It was a nightmare of epic proportions, even for Indian roads. He was high on something and l was beginning to wish l was also! We somehow negotiated the narrow, winding mountain road and came into Rishikesh in the dark, taking "a secret road" as he laughingly described it ... but really it was just going the wrong way in a one way narrow lane, "to avoid the police stops ". I wonder why?!

As we pulled up at the Seventh Heaven Guest House it was as if we'd gone through a time warp. It was calm, cool and mesmerizingly beautiful. A tall gracious Nepalese looking host greeted us quietly with "Namaste" and a disarming smile. Silently his equally beautiful and gracious staff appeared, taking our bags and shaking their heads at our offers to help. And we were very glad of that as we climbed the marble "stairway to heaven" which gave us access to our 4th floor, rooftop rooms. They were spotless, incense infused with king beds, small ensuites and balconies which looked out over the township, the distant Ganges and the mountains framing the valley. Yes, seventh heaven it definitely was. 

The following morning l woke before dawn and wandered barefoot to the balcony. The cold of the marble floor felt icy beneath my feet and the wind tousled my hair. All across the valley lights were flickering in the pale dawn, the lanes were, in a slow and measured way, yawning and stretching to meet the day. The sound of horses hooves, bellowing cows and distant chanting tempted the sun to break over the mountain rims and to gradually flood the entire scene with a pale, warm glow. Morning in Rishikesh had arrived. It was late in coming but worth the wait. 

With a yoga class and an Indian breakfast completed we made our way through the alley ways towards the Ganges. I was surprised by the narrowness of the lanes and their steepness. The drains too proved novel: virtually an open ravine on one side of the alley, with no covering, so all the street rubbish could be easily swept into them ... and then flow into the sacred Ganges! Fascinated by the colours and the rawness of life on display we ambled on. My first sight of mother Ganga was a twirling  ribbon of turquoise, framed by multi coloured temples, cafes and spanned by a suspension bridge over which throngs of people, bikes and rickshaws passed. Thankfully the cars stopped here! 

It was now time for me to confront the "beggar question" in earnest as Rishikesh had many of them. It was not easy. I wanted to give to so many and yet l knew my small offerings would not do much. The children always won me over and so did many of the women. Then there were the limbless and maimed ... yes, yes all of them needed support. My purse was constantly lightened, despite the admonishings of my friends. And then came a moment of humor ... and perhaps "enlightenment". As l crossed the bridge for the fourth time l saw a young man without the lower part of his legs. He was kneeling, head to the side humbly holding out his hands for some offerings, pleading softly as l walked by. I turned to pay with another ten rupees only to see his lower legs cleverly crossed up behind his back!! He'd put his shoes on his knees to give the appearance of being disabled, and it had fooled me completely! Twenty metres further on l saw exactly the same thing ... what a lark! 

We all enjoyed Rishikesh immensely and were disappointed when our last night arrived. I lay in bed, drinking in the starlit sky and pale moon which l could see from my bedroom window. Then it began ... a low rumble and trembling. Was it the wind? It was ferocious each night, making the windows and doors shake and groan. It continued, almost rhythmically, showing no sign of abatement. The dogs began to howl and it suddenly dawned on me that this was an earthquake.

I ran to the stairwell and heard other guests calling out to leave the building. Yes, good idea especially as we were on the top floor. Huddled against the biting cold we stood in the street ... a place offering no protection except that of being close to fellow humans. Our host joined us. Yes it was an earthquake ... they happened almost monthly but this he said was a big one. Where was his delightful daughter Pia? I asked him. "Oh she's asleep. Nothing wakes her" was his calm reply.  So after 20 minutes of shivering and no further rumbling (it had lasted only a few minutes) we all decided to take our chances and return to bed. There were worse places to perish than Rishikesh, although being buried alive would not be my preference !

Needles to say we woke to enjoy another day of exploring India. And to say goodbye to Pia, with whom l'd formed a grandmotherly relationship. On leaving she asked me simply "Why were you all outside last night? There's nothing to be scared about. A little girl like me just stayed warm in bed. Why didn't you?" Given that l'm now fighting off a cold that's a very good question. 

With love and blessings from India,

Michele xxxx