And on...

Radhiji, the blind man I mentioned previously, met us again in the dhaba a couple of nights ago.

We offered to help him out but it was too late to use the internet so we just had a good chat. On discovering that our guitars were beside us (as always), he asked for a few songs so we treated him to some of our more rehearsed numbers and he was very grateful. The guy actually paid for our thalis.

We walked him back to his hotel and I don’t know about Josh but my heart was glowing. He’s a good man this Radi. He spreads the love. This is what it’s about.

There’s a homeless guy who walks around Rishikesh who has a bizarre mental condition. He spends a lot of time on the beach, hanging around tourists, and many times I have seen him in dhabas having thali bought for him by some generous soul. His condition, and I can’t figure out what it is, makes him unable to speak properly and his arms tend to flail around a lot. What is quite endearing about the poor chap is that he always has a smile, and he is always laughing – if somewhat manically. A couple of days ago I was walking towards the beach, and he came out of a café, made some excitable noises and threw his arms around me. I bought him chai. Bless him.

So we try to leave Rishikesh soon. I am continuing with Josh and I think we head to Varanasi. This place, I think, will be hard work. Death is in the air, literally, as dead bodies are burnt and left to drift along the Ganga. It is a particularly holy death, apparently. Though that is one word you hear a lot in India. Holy. Everywhere is a very holy place. This place is THE MOST holy of THEM ALL I hear. Cool. I dig it.

The Israelis here are still a conundrum. What I find is that one-to-one the Israelis I have met are generally incredibly friendly, welcoming, hospitable and sensitive. The problem comes when they are here en masse. And this happens often because Israelis are never alone. The whole Jewish connection means that if you are Israeli and you meet another Israeli (or Jew for that matter) you are family. You talk like you have known each other for years. It is actually quite confusing trying to figure out who travels with who, because to spend an evening in the Freedom Café here you would be sure they were travelling as an organised group of at least twenty.

The other night was a good example of the Israeli Paradox. Myself and Josh went down to the Freedom which is the only place that stays open late. When we got in it was packed with a huge, noisy group of Israelis. We sat down, played a few songs, had a chai, and decided it was too noisy to play. So, we cello. No big deal – it doesn’t always work. Besides, earlier that day we had met a couple of nice Israeli girls (I swear I meet no other nationalities here) who had wanted to meet up, so we went to their room and played for them instead. Which was obviously a lot more peaceful and fun.

And then yesterday when I saw a few of the loud group they all individually apologized to me for not listening to us and being rude.

I guess it is simple group mentality stuff. In a group you judge them all as tossers, and individually you marvel at their warmth and intelligence.

Anyway.

Man, I bore myself today.