Busk it

So Haridwar huh. As I write this I am sitting by the pooja ceremony down by the crowded, fast flowing Ganga. I can see in the distance a huge bronze statue of Shiva which to my uninspired mind resembles the Angel of the North, Gateshead. Hundreds of people line the steps watching everyone else. I can see people placing prepared offerings onto the river which are carried through the torrent. These comprise a large folded leaf filled with the orange/yellow petals that you see EVERYWHERE in India. They are set alight from a little wick before being dropped seawards. They look rather special in the dusk light.

Now I can see some dude who reminds me of Mr Jennings, my old P.E. teacher. He has a whistle around his neck (which he is not afraid to use) and he makes definite, rehearsed arm movements while he speaks loudly to the crowd in Hindi. I’d assume he was some important religious fellow but something about the sick-coloured pullover, checked shirt and neat hair gives the impression he is the pooja safety officer (no more fun, please).

My senses here are bombarded. Loud, fast, textbook Bollywood fare reverberates from loud speakers somewhere behind me. Announcements are made from louder speakers. Everywhere Indian tourists. Not many white faces. Haridwar, due to its notable absence of funky Western-style cafes where Israelis can get stoned in means that there are not so many foreign tourists.

Oh man, Mr Jennings is making a public show of taking large donations from people around me and giving receipts!

Josh and I went to a temple earlier today which involved some serious hiking up a hill. It was badly jammed with tourists. In this place, monkeys rule. People often say that monkeys have human eyes – if that’s true, they have chav eyes.

This temple (man, you seen one temple, you seen em all) was filthy. All the paintings, statues, monuments were covered in bindis where the good Indian tourists felt that the monument just wouldn’t be complete without a whole bunch of red dots smeared all over it. The place is littered with rupee coins, as offerings. At every little shrine is a dude burning insanely intense incense (check the alliteration, init) and asking for money. It’s not hard to refuse. Maybe when the full conversion to Hinduism is complete I may start indulging in this superstitious fare. What do they do with all this money? It doesn’t pay for the upkeep, that’s for sure.

What got me the most was the fact that there is a cable car to and from the temple. I can understand why – having been there for two minutes I would have happily taken an easy flight out of there.

Mental note – if a tourist spot has a cable car, maybe enough people are seeing this. It doesn’t need my weary eyes.

So I look up from my book. I’m still down by the river. Confusing that you’re reading this on a PC huh. Magic.
My feet are cold.

The floating flames are beautiful. I would take a picture if Indian batteries worked in my camera.

We didn’t really plan to be in Haridwar. We wanted to be in Varanasi, but we will be there on the 6th.

Yesterday as I wandered down to the beach in Rishikesh to play some guitar I found a guy painting a violin. I was hoping for a jam, but there were no strings. We got talking and he told me he came to India a couple of months ago, but with no money. None. On arrival at Delhi, a taxi driver gave him 50 rupees. Since then he has managed to receive charity, do pencil portraits on the street for money and do odd jobs.

I commissioned him to draw me for 100 rupees and as I sat down to eat thali with him later, he admitted that he was glad he met me because when he did he was penniless!

So so, you may think. You met a bum. But the thing is, he is probably one of the happiest looking people I have met so far. The guy has nothing. All his food and accommodation is by arrangement. Money not necessary. He has thrown himself at the mercy of India and he has shown it is possible – with a little faith and a little skill. He is surviving but with a smile on his face. And the guy had a proper graphic design job back home!

Meeting him reminded me of the feeling I had after a good day’s charity mugging. By asking for help and offering services you meet everyone, but the people you interact with are those who are full of love, generosity and a warm heart.

An inspiring person indeed.