Some holy places

I was still recovering from a nasty bout of Delhi Belly when we left for Haridwar, and to make matters worse the pollution had started to affect me and I was coming down with a pretty nasty respiratory something or other. Or maybe it was just a cold. But either way I felt pretty rotten in Haridwar. But we were still amazed. Haridwar is located where the fast-flowing Ganges emerges from the Himalayas and is a very holy town for Hindus.

We happened to be there during the weekend of Swamgi, a yearly festival during which young men from all over the country make the pilgrimage here to collect water from the Holy Mother Ganga to take back to their villages. Needless to say the town was swarming with tens of thousands of people and we felt lost in the hoards of orange-clad devotees. It felt like we were the only foreigners in the whole place, and to make matters worse, half the people there had never left their small village so many had never seen a camera and certainly not a young white female. Oh yes, there was some staring. We wandered along the river banks mingling with the crowds and watching them bathe in the ghats.











We headed to Rishikesh, a small town nestled in the foothills of the Himalayas, where we encountered several hundred more pilgrims. We’d heard so many great things about Rishikesh, and I’d really been looking forward to some yoga and chill out time in the yoga capital of the world. And I’d convinced Teej to stay on an ashram!

But first impressions were not so great. The narrow streets were so full of people and cows that it was a fight to get anywhere. It was muddy, dirty and quite frankly, for such a holy place, it was full of nasty characters. I was followed continuously by a very sleazy man, we were harassed for money every five minutes from everyone, not just beggars and sadhus, and I was groped by a passing cyclist. I know these are all regular occurrences in India, but in one of the holiest towns during a religious festival?!

I spent the next two days in bed with a fever and emerged to a nicer, more peaceful and more beautiful Rishikesh. The pilgrims had gone home and the ashram was beginning to feel more how I’d imagined it. We attended the evening aarti ceremony on the ghat – an evening worship of the Ganges. All the boys who live on the ashram come down onto the steps in their saffron robes and sit with their guru, HH Pujya Swami Chidanana Saraswatji, as they chant their prayer songs to the beat of the tabla. We sat with some lovely old ladies who gave us petals to throw in the water as they clapped and danced. Everyone lit candles to float down the Ganges, but mine was pulled under the current almost immediately.





After the ceremony we were lucky enough to attend an audience with HH Pujya Swami and we heard him speak the most beautiful words about peace. I have never seen a man so calm and serene, and just a few moments with him were inspiring. It was then I felt sad to be leaving Rishikesh.