Haridwar
Trip Start
Jul 08, 2008
1
13
23
Trip End
Ongoing
Haridwar,
Uttarakhand,
India
Monday, August 18, 2008
Without much trouble I found the right train and car with my name printed on a list taped to the outside, boarded, and took my seat. As the train started moving my feeling was "this is it?" I hadn't faced any challenges yet and this seemed uncharacteristic of India. I climed up to the bed hanging from the ceiling and fell asleep as the train smoothly coasted towards Haridwar. As morning approached I climbed back to the seat and waited a few more hours to reach the destination. As the train pulled up and I hopped off with my pack I decided that I would step down the comfort level for the next train ride at that experience was obviously more comfortable and expensive than necessary.
Haridwar is considered a holy city; the location where the Ganges River emerges from the Himalayas and where the god Vishnu is said to have left a footprint. Contrasting with the significance of the town is the relative lack of Western visitors making for a more genuine "India" experience. I dropped off my stuff at a dingy hotel and started walking down the main street through the crowds and dodgy food stands that seem to characterise every Indian city. I was surprised by the lack of hassle and "come see my shop" encounters I had grown so used to.
That evening I made my way to the main ghat, or bathing area, by the Ganges where the nightly Ganga Aarti ceremony takes place at sunset. I was killing time and waiting for the ceremony to begin when the heavy rains abruptly started pouring. The crowded, bustling street quickly emptied to the opposite extreme as everybody flowed to a seemingly predetermined location for shelter. I found some cover in front of a shop as the rainwater at my feet slowly changed from clear to brown flowing towards the nearby Ganges. The man who owned the shop and his son motioned for me to enter and watch television with them. "Do you like wrestling?" They were watching some cheezy fake wrestling from the U.S. with the greatest attention and enthusiasm and this was the last thing I ever thought I would encounter near the Ganges. I was reminded of Thomas Friedman's writings on globalisation and the balancing of local cultures. I bought a string of prayer beads as an unspoken way of thanking the man and not wanting to overstay my welcome I walked back to the hotel making use of the raincoat the New Zealander had given me in Manali.
The next day I walked to the base of a mountain on the west side of the town and started the uphill one mile climb to the Mansa Devi Temple. There were cable cars leading to the temple but I decided to walk and take in the scenery. I bought a bag of prasad, a food offering for the goddess on the hill, and hiked up the winding road. Obliviously enjoying the surroundings I felt a tug on the bag which ripped right out of my hands. A little monkey had stolen my prasad and was helping himself to the bag of rice which, along with everything else, had fallen to the ground. I couldn't get angry as this was a hilarious site and a couple of young Indians helped me salvage the remaining food. When reaching the temple there was a place to leave shoes before entering and, crossing into the threshold, a man placed a mark of orange paint on my forehead. With the young Indians I walked around the temple viewing statues of the various deities, placing some prasad, and receiving more forehead marks on the "third eye". As I left the temple there was an amasing view of Haridwar down below with the Ganges by its side. I walked downhill and headed towards the main ghat to catch the Ganga Aarti ceremony which I had missed the previous night because of the rain.
The Har-Ki-Pairi Ghat is known as the footstep of God and I arrived to find pilgrims bathing in the waters as the crowds gathered for the sun's setting. I removed my shoes and found a good spot to sit on the steps and watch the ceremony unfold. When the sun set bells began to ring from all directions in a harmonized rhythm and torches resting near the river burned freely. Many worshippers carried leaf bowls containing flower petals, incense, and a candle which was lit as the bowl was rhythmically waved in various directions and placed in the Ganges to float downstream. I watched as the number of flickering lights in the river multiplied and moved with the currents. Like the approaching crest of a wave the intensity of the ceremony reached its peak when the sun sank below the horizon and as night prevailed the ringing bells became less numerous. The large crowd of hundreds decreased slowly as people departed. This was the Ganga Aarti, known as the river worship ceremony.
