INDIA 2000 For at least 4000 years, India’s social and religious structures have withstood invasions, famines, religious persecutions, political upheavals and many other cataclysms. Few other countries could claim to have a national identity with such a long history. To describe India as a land of contrasts is to state the obvious. Although there are many countries which would qualify for such a description in terms of their different ethnic groups, languages, religions, geography and traditions, few can match the vast scale and diversity found in India. Change is inevitably taking place as modern technology is woven into the fabric of society, yet essentially rural India remains much the same as it has been for thousands of years. Even the fast-paced modern cities like Delhi, Mumbai (formerly Bombay) and Bangalore, what appears to be a complete change of attitude and lifestyle is only surface gloss. Underneath, the age-old verities, loyalties and obligations still rule. Possibly no other country has its religions so intertwined with every aspect of life. Coming to understand it can be a long process, particularly for those educated in the western liberal tradition with its basis in logic. For those people, ‘Indian logic’ can often seem bizarre, convoluted and even exasperating. Yet it encompasses a unique cosmology which is holistic and coherent as well as fascinating. India was the birthplace of two of the world’s great religions (Hinduism and Buddhism) and one of its smallest (Jainism). It’s also home to one of the worlds few remaining communities of Parsis, adherents of the faith of Zoroastrianism. The modern state itself is a relatively recent creation born out of people’s desire to throw off the yoke of colonialism. Even the mightiest of India’s ancient civilisations could not encompass all of modern India, and today it is still as much a country of diversities as of unities. Although there are many different Indias, sometimes hindering the development of a national conscience, it’s worth remembering that India has remained the world’s largest democracy for the last 50 years. Lonely Planet The Diary 16th October, 2000 It wasn’t so long ago that I’d returned from a wonderful holiday in southern India, in fact less than a year had passed. I decided to travel there again in 2000 and went ahead and booked the flight. Then my travel agent went bankrupt, causing me a fair bit of grief and eventually I had to pay all over again, but, undeterred I persisted in going ahead with my plans. The Aussie dollar had never been so low, luckily, India is also a third world country! I took the early flight to Sydney arriving there mid- morning. My flight was direct to Mumbai leaving at 1:30 pm, which gave me exactly four hours to kill. Why not a travel into the city as it was such a beautiful day. The airport shuttle bus dropped me at Circular Quay and I wandered around to the Opera House, joining a few eager tourists on the steps. I bought a T-shirt with the Sydney Olympic emblem, it would be fun to skite about the recent Olympics. A ferry to Darling Harbour, via Mossman, Balmain and Goat Island, a trip I’d never made before. We passed the ‘Bounty’ in full sail. Soon it was time to be heading to the airport and be on my way. Arrived in Singapore at 7 pm local time after a perfect flight on the 767 Airbus. The heat outside was almost intolerable but you either get used to it or die.. I didn’t die. Back aboard and this time the plane was very lightly loaded and I had no one in the seat beside me; the flight is about 5 hours and before I had time to be bored we were on our descent into Mumbai. Formalities soon dispensed with and I jostle for a taxi to Dadar Station, in the outskirts of Mumbai. It was 11 pm by the time I arrived and unfortunately I had missed the last train north. I caught a suburban train to Churchgate and went knocking on hotel doors around the Colaba area in downtown Mumbai. It was now almost 1 am and all was quiet. I found a bed at Aga Begg Lodge on the fourth floor of a large apartment complex. I was bushed as it had been a long day (add 5 ½ hours on because of time zone difference). 17th October, 2000 Mumbai After a stroll to take in early morning Mumbai, I checked out and headed for Churchgate and then back to Dadar station, the country train terminal for the Western Railway. The train was already crowded when it pulled in; I had no seat reservation, however, I managed to find a relatively uncrowded compartment in a sleeper class carriage. It was no good as the conductor soon gave me marching orders to the un- reserved section where I had no hope of foot room let alone a seat. I elected to stand in the doorway of a sleeper compartment. The heat was fierce as we headed roughly north-east towards Jalagoan. Hours passed and by about 8.30 pm the train was at Manmad Jcn (how appropriate some might say!), I decided I’d had enough and alighted. Soon found an hotel not far from the station and crashed. 18th October, 2000 Manmad Jcn - Indore Awoken at 5.30am by the Moslem call to prayer (muezzin) broadcast over a loudspeaker from the mosque, an early start wouldn’t hurt, at least it was cooler now. The Town Square was abuzz with activity; auto-rickshaws come and go, beggars are still asleep. I found a chai stall and enjoyed a tea and a museli bar I’d bought along. Small boys sweep up the rubbish from yesterday. Everything is thrown in the streets, as there are no bins. It seems bad but it does give employment at least and the animals get the pickings of banana peels and food scraps. At the station, 6 platforms are buzzing with activity as people await trains to all over India. Three major expresses await departure. The Tannoy announces the arrivals and “A cheery Good Morning to everyone, we wish you a happy and pleasant day”. Huddled groups are stirring, morning rituals at various stages. Tooth sticks are peddled and bought. (in lieu of toothbrushes), nothing is hurried. Chai sellers ply the platforms quickly crossing the tracks as another express rolls in. Today is much the same as any day for them, the beginning of a long day in the pursuit of a few Rupees. They carry an urn with hot water, milk and sugar mixed, suffused with tea and cardamom. It’s a refreshing brew at 3 to 4 Rupees a cup. (20c). Shapeless forms litter the concourse as many are not yet awake. Tea, coffee and sweetmeat stalls do a brisk trade as well as the water fountain with people cleaning and washing after a night sleeping on the concrete. I looked around for a restaurant offering omelette. None, they are all Pure Vegetarian. I eventually settle for vegetarian and order chai and toast. The chai arrives and then the toast, which turns out to be a bread roll. I watch as he meticulously butters it, cupping it in the palm of his hand. I asked for a knife to spread some Vegemite. He returns with a spoon made spotless by wiping it briskly between thumb and forefinger – on his shirt! This is another world. I realize why my feet are so sore; two mighty blisters have appeared under the balls of my feet. I’m just too soft. I wanted to get away before the heat of the day had become all-pervasive. I was heading for Indore so using the same ticket I got aboard the Goa-Delhi Express departing at 10:10am. I drop a Rs 5 coin into the upturned palm of an old beggar; he quickly adds it to a pile of change in his top pocket, being careful to display only a ¼ Rupee in the begging bowl. Notwithstanding the 2nd class ticket, complete with Super-Fast supplement, I still find no seats free and I take up my usual position in the doorway to stand all the way to Bhursaval Jcn., some 300kms north. The heat is soon oppressive and only the breeze makes it bearable. I spoke with a kindly gent who told me that only ‘Hinglish’ (Hindi-English) is spoken in India. I liked that word. Remember that only 3% of the populace speak English. He was born in Calcutta, West Bengal and educated in Lucknow in the good old days of the British Raj; he lamented on how things had declined. Every few miles maintenance gangs of a hundred or so working by hand to maintain the track in good condition. There are usually crude camps set up nearby, using blue plastic ‘tarps’ as tents. Family groups are seen together, dad working, mum working and baby nearby in the shade. The tools are extremely rudimentary indeed. The workers are mostly of the ‘native’ caste; bottom of the ladder. Every so often the trackside is festooned with the blossom of wild hibiscus. The farmland is made up of basic paddy field plots, growing onions, mustard, chilli, sugar cane, maize or bananas. There has been recent rain but under this heat the fields will be soon parched and only irrigation will save the crops. By Bhursaval Jcn., I had had enough of standing in the doorway and I jumped off and headed for the refreshment stall. I notice a Pepsi fridge crammed with mineral water. A sign “Passengers are requested not to reuse the plastic glass in which tea is served to them plastic. Destroy the plastic glass after use. Passengers are requested to keep watch on valuable ornaments and luggage”. I found the station restaurant and had a South Indian Thali, very nice too, but I’m not very hungry. I asked for chai; not available. Soon the kindly old waiter returns with a chai apparently purchased on the platform, in a plastic glass and with a Taj Mahal teabag therein. I declined the glass of water instead using it to rinse my fingers. The half-empty glass was duly collected and refilled for the next customer, no hint of a wash first. So this is Bhursaval Jcn, a typical non-descript railway junction town. Somewhat revived, I returned to the platform where, to my amazement the train was still standing. May as well continue a bit further north so I jumped aboard, this time ticketless. Khandwa Jcn was only 70km further on and where I was to change for Indore. Without further incident the train pulled into Khandwa Jcn. I hailed an auto-rickshaw and was asking the driver to take me to a nearby hotel, when the local policeman joined me in the back of the contraption. Words were exchanged between he and the driver, it was soon evident we were going nowhere. I got out, still puzzled as to why. The bus station was close by and I enquired upon busses to Indore. There was one ready to depart, and with the conductor hanging from the doorway shouting entreaties to join us, we were soon away. This time I had a seat at least. A mixed blessing that turned out to be as the road was so rough I spent half the time in the air, soon coming to rest heavily on the seat. Now my bum was sore too! The man next to me proudly showed me his watch. It was a few moments before I realised he was not only wearing it on the wrong arm but it was upside down. I put it straight but knew it was more a status symbol than a timepiece. The 100 km journey took just under 5 hours. I spotted a decent looking hotel and decided no matter the cost I had deserved a good rest. The room was very spacious and carpeted (unusual) with a huge double bed and satellite TV, with a remote control no less, it was heaven. A bargain at $15 I thought. Ah, I nearly forgot, it had air conditioning too. 19th October, 2000 Indore Awoke at 6 am to a racket of crackers and other noises. I walked along the street where I came to a railway crossing. I elected to follow the tracks to the station, which was in the centre of town. Poor families live along the sides of the railway in crude shanties; children playing, pigs rummaging in the garbage, all stare with curiosity as I pass. They seem happy enough, ignorance is bliss! A mile or so down the track and I come across a much busier part of town, the bazaar around the large railway station. I decided to check out and move closer to the centre later in the day. The metre gauge railway connects with Ratlam, Ujjain and Bhopal, I bought a Western Railway Timetable (20/=) to check on relevant trains to Ujjain, my next destination. I found an e-mail site and spent an hour or so trying to download a message from home. At 198bps it was hopeless and I gave up on the idea till I could find a site with a good ISP. Booked out and took an auto-rickshaw to the Hotel Neelam, no vacancies but I soon found a room at the near-by Hotel Madhuban at 189/=, just as good and in a quieter part of town. 20th October, 2000 Indore Set out at 8.30am and walked to the GPO passing by strange statues of local politicians and heroes of various battles. An abandoned church, boarded up, and a most bizarre design. The GPO was the usual Indian bureaucratic nightmare with a department devoted to each phase of the postal system. I posted a couple of aerograms when I found the right section. Close by was the museum and I enjoyed seeing the sculptures of the Jains from around the 11th Century AD. The zoo wasn’t mentioned in Lonely Planet and I was lucky enough to stumble upon it near the museum. For an Indian zoo, it was well kept and the animals were in good condition. The tigers and lions were the highlight. I was bemused to see rabbits and pigeons in cages. A quick ride to the other side of town where I visited the Gandhi Town Hall, now used as a handicraft market. 21st October, 2000 Indore - Ujjain One special place to see in Indore was the Lal Bagh Palace. This palace, surrounded by gardens, was built between 1886 and 1921. It has all the usual over the top touches like entrance gates that are replicas of those at Buckingham Palace, a wooden ballroom floor mounted on springs, marble columns, chandeliers, stained-glass windows and stuffed tigers. The formal dining room and reception areas are very grand, beautiful inlaid marble floors and highly decorated rooms abound. An India very different to the norm. I caught the 9367 Passenger train to Ujjain at 12:30 pm. It was another very hot day and at Dewas station I noticed some navies unloading huge bags of rice from a steel gondola wagon. The heat inside the wagons would be unbearable for mortals like me. They were exhausted and I took the opportunity to shout them a chai while we waited to depart. The smiles of appreciation were ample payment. The train arrived at Ujjain at 14:30, and I wasted no time in finding a hotel and a shower. It was called the Surya Hotel. 22nd October, 2000 Ujjain An early start to beat the heat and I was soon on my way to Ram Ghat, the sacred Hindu bathing ghats on the river. The temples scattered all around the area were in contrast to each other, some garish and ornate, others more traditional, carved from local sandstone. I walked several kilometres in the direction of back – soon totally lost. Jumped into a tempo; those ugly brutes that act as taxi cum buses, I eventually recognised a landmark and had my bearings again. I wanted to visit the Cantonment area (built by the British and laid out as an area for officers and soldiers during their reign). The wide uncluttered streets obviously reflecting the ordered British mind. From here it was easy to visit the Observatory (Vedh Shala) built by Maharaja Jai Singh between 1725-30. Since the 4th century BC, Ujjain has been the ‘Greenwich of India’ with the first meridian of longitude passing through it. The huge marble sundial is the centrepiece. Caught the 9367 train to Bhopal at 14:35, this time lucky enough to get a seat. I remembered Bhopal well from our visit there in 1997. I proceeded out the wrong side of the station! Once I had my bearings it was easy to find the Red Sea Plaza Hotel and settled down for some much needed R & R. 23rd October 2000 Bhopal - Jhansi Kelly (my son aged 15 then) and I had not explored the city when we passed through, so I decided to walk to the Taj-ul-Masjid (mosque) and observe the life in a large city. There is no superficial evidence of the terrible disaster, which befell this city on 3rd December 1984. The huge chemical spill from the Union Carbide factory enveloped the city over-night, borne by the wind. To date the death toll stands at 16,000, and over ½ a million people have had their health seriously compromised. The artificial lakes around the mosque make for a pleasant setting. On the banks were the shanties of the dhobi wallahs or washer men and women. Seemingly endless clotheslines made of barbed wire; no pegs needed! They heat the water in drums fuelled by burning bike tyres, which doesn’t do much for air quality. The mosque itself is huge and has been evolving for centuries, having been commenced in 1868. I caught a local bus back to the station area, spotting the famous Indian Coffee House. This restaurant chain has locations in most large cities. The waiters are resplendent in their uniforms, topped off by colourful turbans and the food is good. By 1 pm I had booked out of the Red Sea Plaza and this time no auto- rickshaws in sight so I walked to the station. Aboard the train and the situation is hopeless as far as a seat is concerned so I elected to upgrade to A.C. 3-tier bunk class. Almost a compartment to myself and so cool. I became a travel agent using my precious timetable to work out travel plans for a few other passengers and the atmosphere is very friendly, the conductor especially pleased with himself. The train arrived at Jhansi by 8:30 pm, the usual scurry with over eager auto-rickshaw drivers jostling for fares. Instead I opted to take a tempo to the Hotel Samrat. I had a meal of chapatti and curry at a small roadside restaurant and enjoyed meeting some of the locals. The Samrat was dingy and overpriced and too far from the town centre so this time I chose to take an auto-rickshaw, soon found a very friendly and comfortable hotel called Hotel Krishna at 120/= ($5.75). Diwali celebrations were in full swing that night with a cacophony of sounds and the colourful atmosphere of festival time. Diwali is the start of a new season. 24th October 2000 Jhansi After breakfast I walked to the Jhansi Fort, an imposing structure on a rocky outcrop above the town. The fort was built in 1613 by Maharaja Bir Singh Deo of Orchha. Rani Lakshmibai, who was the last of the ruling royals, had produced no male offspring to take the place of the Maharaja. She was forcibly retired by the British in 1853 and is the local heroin who with her troops slaughtered the British here in 1858 in a particularly bloody follow up to the Sepoy Mutiny of 1857. Now all is quiet and peaceful and I was free to enjoy the solitude and reflect on those horrific days of India’s history. The mutiny had started in Meerut in 1857 when native troops were ordered to clean their rifles with lard. The Hindus believed it was beef and the Muslims believed it to be pig fat. The troops revolted and the slaughter of the British officers and their families continued for months before relief troops were brought in to quell the unrest. The fighting spread to Lucknow and Cawnpore (now Kanpur) and as far south as Gwalior and Jhansi. This is known as India’s first war of independence. Today Jhansi is a quiet town and a major railway junction. I decided to base myself at Jhansi, as it is a convenient spot to visit Orchha, Gwalior and Khajuraho. 25th October 2000 Jhansi It was time for some serious rest but it was not to be. I had been on the go for over a week and it had been hard work. Next-door to the hotel was a respectable restaurant with a varied bill of fare. All facilities were to hand including, bank, Internet facilities and a post office. My room was basic but adequate, a refuge from the bustle of street life. The staff were very friendly and a TV lounge was provided where the odd snippet of cricket and the news could be viewed if I could persuade them to change the channel. The Indians love to watch insipid Hindi or Tamil melodramas, produced in their thousands and they watch them avidly. I made an early start as I intended to visit Orchha, just 18km to the south of Jhansi. From the bus station it would have been an easy matter to find a tempo heading that way but I decided the walk would be good. I was soon bushed and had to ask for directions. Orchha (hidden palace) is a town built around an island in the Betwa River and was once the capital of the Bundelas empire and remained the capital of the powerful Rajput kingdom until 1783. The town was founded in 1531 AD. There are many well-preserved temples here, as well as the main palace, stables and ancillary buildings. The Jehangir Mahal palace is impressive and affords a good view over the island in the river. Below, there are camel stables and in the distance still more temples. About a km from the town is the beautiful Lakshmi Narayan Temple. It was a hot walk but well worth it. The temple is built in an octagon shape with a central courtyard and pagoda. There are exquisite murals all around the covered colonnade depicting the fables of Ram and the story of Lanka. The 5 story pagoda is an interesting design, although more akin in style to Buddhism than Hinduism. I decided to explore inside the pagoda and ventured up the internal spiral staircase. By the third story it was decidedly grotty and I noticed a few poles spanning the dome; then out of the window I noticed a huge bird perched. I was inside a vultures’ lair! 26th October 2000 Jhansi Decided on a lazy day today, so a leisurely walk around the perimeter of the fort, no more than 5 km. It was a public holiday all over India for Diwali, the new season celebrations and the festival of light. Enjoyed some well earned R & R. 27th October 2000 Jhansi - Khajuraho Up at 5:30 am quickly packing needs for a few days away, leaving the bulk of my pack in storage at the hotel. The bus to Khajuraho left the station at 6 am. I arrived just in time. Khajuraho lies 175 km east of Jhansi and the journey takes about 6 hours. The roads aren’t too bad in this area; we made a couple of stops along the way for refreshments eventually arriving at 12 noon. Touts surrounded me at the bus station all anxious to usher me to their particular hotels. Khajuraho, once a great Chandela capital is now a quiet village but it boasts the most magnificent temples. The amazing thing about this area is the fact that some 21 temples were built in the span of a hundred years or so, between the years of 900 – 1080 AD, a truly incredible feat. What size workforce to achieve it and how were they supported? The very remoteness has served to preserve the area from conquering armies and the site is largely intact. The town of Khajuraho, second only to the Taj Mahal in popularity, is quite small but has all of the infrastructure to handle the influx of foreign visitors; the usual 4 star hotels etc., most people fly in for a 1 or 2 day stay at the most. 28th October 2000 Khajuraho - Gwalior Took the Deluxe bus from Khajuraho to Gwalior and enjoyed the company of a retired teacher from New York, Bob Crowly. I convinced a young Spanish couple to detour via Orchha as it is well worth a visit. Bob and I continued on and some 6 hours later arrived in the bustling city of Gwalior. It was almost dark by the time I booked into the Regal Hotel, just below the Fort. 29th October 2000 Gwalior - Jhansi Awoke at 7 am and set off to walk to the north gate entrance of the massive fort. Little was astir and it was some time before I found a chai and light breakfast and the essential litre bottle of mineral water. The fort is built on an outcrop of rock, 3km long and from 200mtrs to a km wide and 100 mtrs high. The perfect place to build a fort as from the top it commands a view for many miles across the plains. The dramatic history of the fort goes back over a thousand years. 10 mtr high rock walls surround the imposing fort. Through a series of gates is the Man Singh Palace, a delightful building built on 4 levels, the 2 underground areas being used as dungeons. The palace was built between 1486 and 1516. Also atop the rocky outcrop is an assortment of temples, the new white marble edifice is the Sikh temple, but my favourite is the 9th century Teli Ka Mandir more typical of the Hindu faith and recently restored. There is abundant bird life around the ruins of the fort, large numbers of parakeets flirt around Shiva’s Well (a large open water tank with steps allowing access for ritual bathing), peacocks and doves. The view across the old town from the steep walls is interesting too, being able to see various lifestyles as if flying above it all. I descended via the south gate, along a winding road through the valley bordered by Jain sculptures carved into the rock face during the 15th century. They mostly represent the revered saint and teacher tirthankar and stand up to 17m tall. It’s a long walk down the winding road through the gorge but I was in no hurry and was back in town by 11 am. I found a produce market and bought a delicious cucumber as a snack. I discard the peel into the drain/river and watched the pigs scramble for them amongst the utter filth and grey slime purporting to be water. The smell is horrific. I followed a 2’ gauge railway line for a couple of kms but was unable to find where it goes. Back to the station by auto-rickshaw where I noticed a sign reading ‘GLR’ (presumably Gwalior Light Railway) with a small steam loco on a pedestal outside the station. I am soon aboard a train bound for Jhansi, a couple of hours to the south. Back to the good old Krishna Hotel, on familiar ground now. I’m a little concerned about my pack which the room boy can’t locate at the moment, no point worrying about it though, it will turn up I convince myself. After a couple of hours my pack arrives at room 202 and all is well. I told you there was nothing to worry about! Can’t wait for evening to visit that really good restaurant next door, feel like a garlic chicken and fried rice tonight.. The power goes off precisely at 7.10pm., planned power rationing. Luckily the Krishna Hotel has a backup generator as the rooms are unbearable without an overhead fan. 30th October 2000 Jhansi I was running low on cash so today I would have to change a travellers cheque. Waited for the local branch of The Bank Of India to open at 10 am. Finding the bank was difficult enough as it wasn’t where you’d expect a bank to be, up a back street. Inside it was chaos, more like a junk shop than a bank. I was ushered into the ‘Foreign Transaction” department and waited patiently whilst pleasantries were exchanged between employees. Then I was told the bank does not accept Thomas Cook Travellers Cheques and I was forced to exchange cash. After a long wait and seemingly endless paperwork I was on my way with a bundle of Rupees. Intrigued by a street stall selling cold drinks, I decided to dice with death and sample one. The old gent took a glass and shaved some ice of a block with an ancient hand plane, next some syrup and a squeeze of fresh lime to top it off. It was very refreshing but a risky undertaking on the dusty streets of any Indian town. My immunity must be holding as I noticed no ill effects from the exercise. 31st October 2000 Jhansi - Mathura I purchased a ticket to Lucknow, the capital of Uttar Pradesh, departing platform 6 at 7.40 am. The train is an hour late but I find a suitable carriage and settle back for a journey that would take me over the ghats into the Ganges plains. It wasn’t long before I realised the territory was too familiar and I was on the wrong line, headed for Gwalior and Agra instead of Lucknow. I should have checked to see it was the correct train after all, instead of assuming it was. Too late now to do much about it. It would work out all right as I could visit Mathura and Delhi before heading north to the source of the Ganges above Rishikesh. We passed through Gwalior, an easily identifiable locale, with its massive rocky hilltop fort; next stop would be Agra Cantonment, and the Taj Mahal. I had seen the Taj several times on previous visits, so I decided to continue on to Mathura. The conductor checked my ticket soon after leaving Agra and suggested I detrain at Mathura thus forcing the issue. I had travelled some 600 kms on a wrong ticket! It was late afternoon when I arrived in Mathura and soon found a suitable hotel, the Gaurav Guest House in the centre of town. Mathura is one of seven sacred Hindu towns and is famous as the birthplace of Lord Krishna. It’s a vibrant town and the local markets and streets of ornate Havalis (merchant houses with intricate wooden carvings now largely dilapidated and neglected) fascinated me. I visited the Archaeological Museum, a very well laid out exhibition of sculptures dating from 200 BC to 1000 AD all discovered locally. A short walk away, through a myriad of narrow streets, I found the Vishram Ghat on the scared Yumuna River. Temples line the river bank where eager boatmen vie for custom. I negotiated a suitable price and climbed aboard the outsized rowing boat and settled back to enjoy the sights. My guide took up a floorboard and took the rowing position, expertly wielding the oars and steering us into the current. I took the long way home, via the narrow streets of the old city. Along the way I stopped off to watch the various merchants plying their trade. The tiny biscuit factory with stacks of newly baked delicacies being packed in a true cottage style industry. The omelet shop where I spoke with locals about their lives whilst awaiting a meal. The tobacconist, smiling through red teeth, the stain from betel nut chewing, with his array of small sachets of aromatic seeds and local brand cigarettes and tobacco. The ironing wallah with his ancient cast iron glowing with charcoal. All seem very happy and content with their lot in life and exhibit no animosity to the visitor. I snapped their photos; they show a pride in their very existence. The usual power blackout makes the last mile or so tricky as it is now quite dark. I somehow stumble across my lodge and am greeted warmly by all. 1st November 2000 Mathura I am away early and hailed a tempo to Vrindavan a few miles to the north. Soon accompanied by a guide whose English wasn’t good. I understood enough to take in the atmosphere of this sacred site of temples, in an arm of the Yumuna River. We entered a large complex of temples where room after room was crowded with dedicated women being lectured upon the ways of Hinduism. More women than I have seen in all of India so far, normally a male dominated culture. Next I was bedecked with a garland and entered the holiest of shrines dedicated to Krishna of course. We sat lotus positioned whilst the priest blessed us and chanted the mantra. I became suspicious of their motives when a large book was produced containing records of donations; lots of dollars, it had come down to the common denominator, money. I said ‘no thanks’ and left with their pleas ringing behind me. There is a large golden pillar in the temple of Rangaji but it was closed to foreigners unfortunately. I left this shrine with a tinge of sorrow as the touts (guides) had spoilt an otherwise peaceful religious place. Soon at the station to await the Kerala Express to Delhi. This train had already travelled some 3000 kms, having departed 2 days ago. There were no seats of course. I was soon on the familiar ground of Delhi, the New Delhi railway station, and a place I know well. I headed for the Ganj area and to the excellent Guest House Kelly and I had stayed at in 1997, the Travellers Guest House. 2nd November 2000 Delhi A clean room, double bed, remote controlled TV and a very respectable bathroom with hot water no less; all at an affordable $12 for 24 hours occupancy. Delhi was a transitional stop as I had seen all the major sights on previous trips – save one, the magnificent Jama Masjid. This is the largest Mosque in all India and very impressive it is too. It was built between 1644 and 1658 and is capable of holding 25,000 people. I took advantage of being able to climb the eastern minaret, affording great views over Old Delhi. I watch as ‘tourists’ have their obligatory 15 minutes at the mosque and then a short pedal rickshaw ride down a nearby street, their only taste of the real India perhaps? I find a lot of satisfaction in finding all these pleasures out for myself and abhor the ‘guided tour’. Sometimes it is the only option on a short stopover, I realise. Wandered through the narrow winding laneways off Chandi Chowk, fine gold, beautiful silk and every other imaginable article is available in these bazaars. Ended up near at the horrendously busy Old Delhi Railway Station to enjoy the sights and sounds of a large interchange. I remember, not too long ago, watching battered steam engines plying the platforms, making up a consist for the next intercity express. Alas, steam is only to be seen on the narrow gauge mountain railways these days. 3rd November 2000 Delhi - Hardiwar Wandered around the ganj area, met a nice guy, Biju who kindly helped me organise my ticket to Meerut City, a few miles north-east of Delhi. I was aboard the train by noon and soon headed away from the bustle of Delhi. More and more people squeezed aboard the train, I gave up my seat to take up a position in the doorway. Soon in Meerut City where I hopped a bus up-town. Saw a reasonable looking hotel and decided to book in for a night. It was a non-descript place with very little of interest so I changed my mind and decided to keep going after being informed it was an ‘Indian only’ place. Back to the station and aboard the next train. I was drawn into conversation by a very friendly group of passengers and invited to join them. They were very keen to hear about life ‘down under’. The train pulled into Saharanpur Junction after dark. It was a small rural village owing its existence to the railway. Not much in the way of accommodation here either and a kindly gent suggested I keep on towards Hardiwar, a few miles further on. He intimated it would not be safe in the streets of Saharanpur at night and invited me to await the bus with him. I felt no danger but kept to the lighted areas. Our bus arrived soon afterward, plenty of room this time. I sat down the back, an unwise choice in hindsight, as my tummy wasn’t settled. We stopped in the middle of nowhere an hour later and two inspectors came aboard to check all tickets, all was well until the one in the back was about to get off. He noticed some parcels blocking the passageway and looked for the owner. Voices grew louder and more agitated. Soon a group gathered around the bus and all joined in the altercation. The outcome is almost predictable, a book is produced an forms are filled out, in triplicate. Its 10.30 pm by the time we arrive in Hardiwar. 4th November 2000 Hardiwar Hardiwar is situated where the Ganges River emerges from the Himalayas to begin its slow progress across the plains. It is a very sacred place and has many ashrams and temples along the rivers’ banks. A special event takes place here every 12 years called the Kumbh Mela, whereupon millions of pilgrims gather to celebrate Hinduism’s holiest of celebrations. Even the intervening years bring thousands to bathe here at the ghats every November. And so I found accommodation scarce; the rickshaw wallah and I spent an hour or so finding a suitable place, but we did. My tummy is not too good and I take it easy with food. Walked to the ghats along the Ganga Canal. The water is channeled off via weirs to form a sizeable canal through Hardiwar. The flow is savage, the canal is about 100 mtrs wide, bathers are protected by railings to prevent them being swept off by the strong current. The atmosphere around the clock tower, temple area is electric. Groups of pilgrims celebrating and in real festive mood. I found my way back to the chair-lift to Devi Temple, high above in the mountains, but after an hours wait the queue in front was just as long as when I arrived; I gave that excursion a miss. I felt the time would be better spent going to Rishikesh for the day. I found the tempo stand and as luck would have it an American exchange teacher was also aboard. Jan and I soon struck up a conversation; she was starved of western company having spent 2 months in an Indian primary school in Hardiwar. I, too was looking for company as it was l long while since I’d spoken my normal English. Rishikesh is a sprawling town stretching a few kms along the river. Temples and ashrams abound. Two suspension bridges span the river, steep mountainsides on either side. Rafters take advantage of the swift current and rapids. We walked a few miles along the riverbank calling in at a few temples and souvenir shops. It is a very peaceful spot and I was sorry I couldn’t spend the night there but I had to get back to Hardiwar. There are many sanctuaries and mountain walks in the area, they would have to wait for another time. I caught a tempo back to Hardiwar as darkness settled. It had been a very enjoyable day all round. Jan was staying in Rishikesh overnight so we said our farewells. 5th November 2000 Hardiwar I enquired upon trains south to Lucknow but none till evening. I prefer to travel as much as I can in daylight hours and not miss the scenery. The bus was a better option leaving at 9:30. A window seat, comfortable and not crowded, all too much. As we leave Hardiwar crowds are gathering along the riverbanks; tent-cities have sprung up and stretch for miles down river. We cross the Ganges and passengers throw coins in return for a blessing as we leave behind a very special place. It certainly holds great memories for me, albeit a brief stay. We crossed dry riverbeds with signs of flooding in recent weeks, through a toll gate and into the jungle. I caught sight of a chital, a wild spotted deer, native to India. Monkeys dart across the road. Eucalyptus forests have been planted to take the place of the stunted native trees, they certainly thrive here. Hours pass by as we move into the bread-basket of India on the fertile Gangetic Plains. Forests give way to flat, open fields of rice and wheat. Small non-descript towns punctuate the flat landscape, Coca- Cola signs painted on every conceivable flat surface. A man and his wife come to grief crossing a ford on their Baja Scooter, nothing but dignity damaged luckily. We arrived in Moradabad Jcn. around 2 pm and I decided to try the train as it would be quicker and potentially more comfortable. How wrong could I be! Eventually managed to board a train bound for Lucknow but it was 8 hours journey from here. I travelled as far as Bareilly, a large town mid-way. Nightfall was here by the time I walked from the station, I found myself in tiny alleys leading to a bazaar, nothing resembling a hotel in sight. A kind gent pointed me in the right direction, back under the ill-lit subway to the other side of the line where I found several hotel to choose from. Couldn’t resist the Hotel Carlton. (Kelly’s favourite team.) A walk around the town stopping to eat at a small road-side restaurant; a blind man taps his way along the middle of the road and is soon guided to safety. I found a bar and enjoyed a beer in a shed-like building soon joining in a conversation with friendly drinkers. There is a feeling of being very naughty engaging in this activity. 6th November 2000 Bareilly -Lucknow There are two trains to Lucknow so I would waste no time booking out and proceeding to the station. The next train was due out at 11.40 am so I had plenty of time. Upon arrival at the station I find the first is cancelled and the other not due till 2.30 pm. Why wasn’t I more organised, now there’s nothing to do but wait. It was 6 pm before I arrived at Lucknow and I’m amazed at how big the station is. True, Lucknow is the capital of Uttar Pradesh and as such it has a large population. I met an interesting character astride his pack on platform 1. He is a Dutch guy and has ridden his push-bike all the way from Holland, across Asia and all around India, an incredible feat. I am in awe of his achievement. He had taken over a year to complete the trip and was now on his way home. Carrying tent, wet weather gear, cooking utensils and all needs he was certainly loaded down. He advised me to head for Hazratganj, a central and busy area of the city, I was soon there by auto-rickshaw. This is a modern city with broad streets, large public buildings and central gardens. I found a good hotel eventually, the Hotel Charans International. True, it did have a very swank foyer but it belied the standard of the rooms. I managed to get the hot water geyser fixed, the phone didn’t work and the TV was decidedly old. The bed was comfortable enough though. 7th November 2000 Lucknow I set out early to find the GPO, and hopefully collect some mail from home. It’s a great boost to receive news from home, albeit a bit dated. E-mail had been unreliable but I did manage to catch up with most people in Delhi. A short walk away I found the zoo. I had a struggle on entry because of a plastic bag protecting my diary, eventually convinced the guard that I would not discard it and endanger any animals. Strange to see two emus amongst the otherwise expected animals. The most amusing part of the visit was the paddle-boats in a small pool, Indians are certainly starved of entertainment. The museum is also part of the gardens and I was intrigued by the incongruity of an Air Force Jet fighter on a pedestal at the entrance. The museum itself houses beautiful sculptures found in the area and dating back hundreds of years. At the rear in a compound, almost out of sight, was the statuary of the Raj era. Queen Victoria and Prince Albert in all their marble glory. The Botanical Gardens were fairly ordinary. The variety of vegetation is limited by this arid climate. Close-by is the Bara Imambara, the tomb of a Shi’ite Muslim holy man. It was built in 1784 as a famine relief project. The huge vaulted gallery, one of the largest of its kind in the world houses an odd assortment of paraphernalia used in ritual festivities. 8th November 2000 Lucknow -Kanpur Life in a big city like this is far from interesting and there wasn’t much else to see here so I decided to travel on to Kanpur, formerly known as Cawnpore. Although Lucknow is the capital city of Uttar Pradesh, Kanpur is the state’s largest city. Not known for its tourist attractions, Kanpur is a huge industrial centre. My interest was to follow up on the Mutiny of 1857, Cawnpore being where some of the most tragic events took place in the uprising. The two hour train trip from Lucknow was pleasant enough, at each station the paymaster handed over wages for the many staff attached. We crossed over the Ganges River and soon entered the station at Kanpur Central, looking more like a mosque than a railway establishment. The crowds were frenetic and I managed to find my way to the street, refusing a porter. People here are not used to seeing tourists and were very friendly. I surveyed the main town square and spied a likely hotel within easy walking distance. Booked into the Hotel Raj Seth and relaxed after a freshen up. The staff were extremely helpful and friendly too. 9th November 2000 Kanpur A walk around the busy trading section of town where bales of cotton are being auctioned. Large cakes of molasses stored and sold from warehouses attract bees aplenty. About the only site of interest in the area is the zoo, so I took a bike rickshaw the 5 km, revealing a very different city to the area I was staying in. Wide commercial streets, beautiful gardens and bustling thoroughfares. We stopped for chai along the way as it was quite hot. The zoo is a large park surrounding a lake with very few animal to see. I was disappointed as it had so much potential. I felt the funding must have been the big problem. By the time we had made our way back to the busy station area it was late afternoon. I reserved a sleeper on the 2134 Pushpak Express only to find I’m on a waiting list of 240. 10th November 2000 Kanpur After breakfast I’m off to the reservation lounge, still 184 places to go, not much hope of getting a berth. Unfortunately there is no foreign quota in sleeper class. I checked out of the hotel around 1.30 pm and headed for the station to await the train at 9.30 pm. I would be able to catch up on some reading. I cloaked my luggage in the ‘Clock Room’. Trains come and go.. “May I have you kind attention, the train on platform 3 is ..”. Rats fossick along the platform pit, the pigeons dodging around them for food scraps. Water stand pipes for replenishing the carriage water supplies. Sweepers using whisk-like brooms clean the platforms. A stall holder prepares potatoes for quick meals. The chai seller does a steady trade. My reservation is not guaranteed, I am still well down on the waiting list. Soldiers parade, some with long sticks, others with antique rifles. Officers usually carry a sub-machinegun. The odd beggar does the rounds. Gangs of luggage wallahs load the vans with vast amounts of goods, bags of maize etc. They stagger under the heavy loads in this frightful heat. A mother washes her children and their clothes under one of the standpipes, oblivious of the people looking on. There is a large contingent of Railway Police stationed here, their headquarters is at the end of platform 1. They have seemingly little to do. Oil lamps are lit as dusk approaches taking the place of the guards flag. A shunting engine brings in a 19 car train to form the 5633 Kanpur – Howrah (Calcutta) Mail. There are 9 platforms in all, the last two dedicated to the metre gauge lines. Platform signs are illuminated; ‘Retirement Rooms, Station Master, Snack Bar, Booking Hall, Public Grievance Cell, No Spitting’, etc. A girl with a baby slung under her arm comes by begging, lucky if she was 12 yo. Train 5623 pulls into platform 2, people struggle to alight as eager passengers push their way on regardless of the crush. Cries from platform vendors announcing their wares. 2nd class is packed, there is cramped standing room only, no-one seems to mind. It appears that no matter how many trains are scheduled, over 3000 a day, crisscrossing this vast country, there is never an unoccupied seat. Family groups are settling on the platform to await distant expresses; a man sidles to the edge and issues forth a stream of betel nut juice, most walls stained red with it. I am becoming restless and bored, still 3 hours to wait. I check the ‘Clock Room’ closing time, don’t want my luggage incarcerated till next day. The public telephone hangs off the wall, hanging by the wires. The train eventually arrives at 9.50 pm. I jump aboard the nearest sleeper class carriage and seek the attention of the TTE (Travelling Ticket Examiner) hoping he can place me in a spare compartment. He briefly looks at my ticket and saunters off without a glimmer of hope in his eyes. The corridor is crowded too, so no chance of sleeping on the floor. The miles rush by, it is now 11.30 pm and people (the lucky ones) are bedding down. Each time the TTE passed I hopefully proffer my ticket but he shows total indifference as only a tired railway official could. A man and wife have the upper and lower bunks at the end of the compartment. After about ½ an hour the wife decided she no longer liked it alone on the top bunk and joined her husband and son in the lower one. My life was saved, Ganesh had smiled upon me, the man beckoned me and invited me to use that free bunk. I could not have survived 28 hours sitting on my pack. 11th November 2000 Mumbai I awoke around 6 am, we were pulling into Bhopal station. 778 kms to go. The night had been quite cold, and I had to wrap up in my coat, the first time I’d had to use it. I was grateful that I hadn’t discarded it before this. I soon shed it though as the temperature rose very quickly with daylight. I thanked the kind man for his generous sharing, I offered the boy a small gift, but they wouldn’t accept anything from me. At Powarkheda we were held awaiting a signal. The track is duplicated and has 25kV overhead electrification. We were soon away and doing speeds of about 50-60mph. Bhursaval Jcn at 12:30 pm, a large group of students got off the train here and I scored a seat. Spoke with a gentleman who confided his disappointment with India in modern times. He espoused the efforts of the British, prior to independence, in setting up an infrastructure which is still in place. The buildings they built and the railway system still stand strong whilst everything built since is in ruin and decay. He lamented the wholesale corruption which channels millions into the pockets of government officials. Projects are left unfinished, and the is ample evidence to corroborate his allegations. He then apologised for running his country down, but, sadly they were the facts. He continued; “No one is held accountable here. If India is to become a competitive nation then the standards have to rise for all people. Politicians need to organise projects with trustworthy leaders and follow through to completion”. I agreed that from a visitor’s point of view, what he was saying certainly rang true. Most Indians see only the need to eat that day as a priority, it’s hard to consider the future when the belly is empty. The caste system is alive and well and will continue to hold back people’s chances of getting ahead. The insidious Christian churches are guilty of offering a better life to millions only to fall far short of promises after the conversion. It is religious bribery in its worst form. Millions have become disillusioned and the slide down the economic ladder is inevitable. There are now approximately 25 million poor caste Indians who have been converted from Hinduism to Christianity. They are not one iota better off, most bitterly disappointed. The train arrived in Mumbai at 8:40 pm. A taxi to the Colaba area where I found a friendly Lodge just behind the magnificent Taj Mahal Hotel, but at a fraction of the cost. Sleep, beautiful sleep. 12th November 2000 Mumbai I spent a few days in Mumbai, relaxing, enjoying the company of other travellers and organising a few presents for people at home. I had enjoyed the experience mostly, had seen some remarkable sights. The temples of Khajuraho were a real highlight. I had spent some good time in the foothills of the Himalayas, soaking up the atmosphere of the Kumbh Mela in Hardiwar and Rishikesh. Had seen the temple of Lord Krishna in Mathura and the wonderful forts of Gwalior and Jhansi. Although my travels in India are quite expansive, there are many more places I hope to visit in the future. There are vast areas yet unseen. The states of Orissa, Andhra Pradesh, Bhutan, Jammu & Kashmir I am yet to visit. With my five visits to India so far I have spent approximately four months there, a totally inadequate proportion of my life to do it justice. To learn more of their culture and ideals is a passion and I see no alternative to further exploits in the future. Thank you for your interest in my travels and taking the time to read, perhaps glimpsing a tiny chink of a culture so different to our lives. Jim Accommodation. 1 Mumbai Aga Beg Paying Guest House 410/= 1 2 Manmad Jcn Hotel Bhagyashri 100/= 1 3. Indore Hotel Greens AC 300/= 1 4. Indore Hotel Madhuban 189/= 2 5. Bhopal Hotel Redsea Plaza 240/= 1 6. Jhansi Hotel Krishna 140/= 2 7. Khajuraho Hotel Yogi 100/= 1 8. Gwalior Regal Hotel 200/= 1 9. Jhansi Hotel Krishna 120/= 3 10. Mathura Gaurav Guest House 200/= 2 11. New Delhi Travellers Guest House 260/= 2 12. Hardiwar Milap Mansions 250/= 2 13. Bareilly Hotel Carlton 150/= 1 14. Lucknow Hotel Charans International 300/= 2 15. Kanpur Hotel Raj Seth 160/= 2 16. Mumbai Apollo Guest House 360/= 3 Brought to you by Jim Graham Grahamj@southcom.com.au