Beggers and white buddists
Trip Start
Sep 08, 2008
1
12
13
Trip End
Oct 01, 2008
New Delhi,
India
Monday, September 29, 2008
Walking past beggers never gets easier, they line up on the two suspension bridges that cross the Ganges in Rishikesh. It's difficult because you retreat, within yourself, behind your eyes. It makes me feel like my body is fused of iron, and i'm hidding in it whilst my concious is in a storm. The rattling of the metal can and the beggers eyes staring are all you can hear as you walk away. It's difficult.
White buddists, or white hindus, are prevailent in Rishikesh, you can see them all sat cross legged on the beach of the Ganges as the sun sets, all lost in their own efforts to find Nirvada, or something, anything i'd expect. I can't but feel thaqt these people look down on me as a mere "tourist" not here for the spirituality this place exudes, as they walk around with their shaved heads, long beards and unwestern clothes, a disguise for them, I think, to something they once were and are trying to escape from. One guy from Belgium had been living in India for 25 years, living off dontations to the temple, he said that you have to cut all ties, all relationships, and thus his decision to leave Belgium forever. He mum died back in Belgium, but he didn't seem to mind too much. It is apparantly very much about the individual, and not the community or family, adding to my speculation of escapism. They're all, generally, one mantra short of an Osho meditation session, if you know what I mean. They're all trapped inside their heads and the clouds, and somehow have lost connection with the world, while they increase their connection with themselves.
I decided to eat an Indian again, I went to a plush restaurant near my hostel, and ordered the "chef's special biryani" whats in the chefs special? I ask, vegetables, comes the reply. I can't help thinking the chefs special merely means 10 rupees more than the vegetable biryani, I order it anyway. It comes, dripping in oil. I'm getting suspicious now. It's as though when I walk into any restaurant the waiter sees me and thinks "Gees, that guy is seriously lacking in his oil intake! Hey VJ, get the especially large vat of oil for this one!". I can't finish it. Is it such a crime to've been in India for 3 weeks and still think the best curry i've had is from a classy little place called 'Venice Pizzas' on Kirkstall road in Leeds?
I'm back in Delhi now, after my time in Rishikesh and I feel like i'm just about getting into the swing of things, the swing of India. Tomorrow I fly home. My last India trip post will be inthe coming days.
- Jonny
