With Kolkata hitting the 40's have escaped into the cool refreshing breeze of the Himalayan foothills and the tow of Darjeeling.
The trip involved another overnight train up forum the city and then a 3 hour drive up into the hills around rather sharp bends overlooking some rather scary drops. Not for the faint hearted, especially the way Indians drive.
Darjeeling is a quaint little town built literally on the side of a hill. Whatever made anyone want to build here is a mystery given some near vertical climbs to get to places.
The whole place is shrouded in mist at present so no chance of seeing img the glorious views that the place is renowned for, apart from the odd tanterlising glimpse through the clouds.
Certainly seen lots of tea bushes. And some glorious flower displays. Something the locals got from the British as a love of pot plants.
Writing this floating thorough the Mangrove swamps of Suderband National park looking for tigers.
Not seen any yet, although there are around 300 in the park. Not often spotted though. Plenty of bird life and even the odd crocodile to keep us amused.
The jungle camp was charming, with little cottages nestled around a small pond. The heat is stifling though, must be awful in the summer when it gets up to 45 around here.
Took a walk around some of the small villages on the island. Fascinating to see how the people live. So basic in many way, with not electricity or running water. But every house has a pond where they wash and clean and fish. Every house now has a toilet thanks to an initiative from the current government.
Spent a few day exploring the sights of Kolkata. It's a city of extremes and incredibly hot and humid.
The British set up their first capital here, but not until after a considerable amount of trouble from the natives, including the deaths of 123 British soldiers in the infamous black hole of Calcutta.
There is a memorial to the tragedy which stands in the grounds of St John's cathedral. The cathedral is built in the grounds of the old cemetery, filled with the bones of those who died in the early years of the settlement
In contrast I Visited the markets where a seething crown haggled and bartered over every kind of commodity, from flowers to chickens.
Took the train down from Varanasi into West Bengal and its capital Kolkata. As train journeys go it was long, about 14 hours, but largely uneventful. Quite soothing being rocked to sleep as the train chugged through the countryside.
Arrived in Kolkata at the huge Howrah station on the west side of the river, so had to get the ferry into the city itself, a bargain at 5 Rupees, around 8p.
It's like being in a different country her. The people look darker are much more reserved. Sill get the requests to join people for a selfie though. It must be "have your picture taken with a weird looking foreigner" week. In Varanasi I even had a three year only plonked on my lap so the proud dad could take a picture.
Very very hot here so taking time to get used to the heat. Visited the Victoria memorial, a great palace plonked in the park to honour the dead Empress.
Wednesday, March 22, 2017
It's quite weird watching the bodies burn on the Ghats at Varanasi. Of course it's no different to what happens around the world when death occurs, but to see the act in the raw brings home the mortality of life.
In India the funeral usually takes place on the same day as death, vital in a country where temperatures reach 46 degrees. So while you may have been tending granny in the morning, but evening she may be just a pile of ash floating down the Ganges.
Watching the ceremony is quite moving. The pyre is built by untouchables. Each piece of wood weighed to ensure the right amount is used to consume the body.
The body is then brought to the river, borne by relatives. Prayers are said and final goodbyes made. Then the body is washed in the Ganges, which can't be conducive to combustion.
More prayers are said and flowers and powders decorate the body. And then it is laid on the pyre.
The oldest male relative has the duty to light the pyre, first walking three times around the body with the burning torch. Things can get a bit frantic here as the torch sometimes burns little to quickly meaning what was meant to be a dignified stroll becomes a frantic gallop.
And then it burns. Three hours later the departed has left the planet in body as well as in spirit, and all that remains is a smouldering pile of ash. It's basic, fundamental and part of the circle of life.
Took an early morning trip out onto the river to see the sunrise. It was already bustling with people bathing and washing in the river, The laundry service was going full pelt with sheets being bludgeoned into cleanliness.
Hundreds were taking the early oppotunity to purify themselves in the holy waters. Nothing like bathing in a sea of Ecoli to set you up for breakfast.
Took a walk out to the fort on the other side of the river, which involved crossing what was described in the Lonely Planet as a sturdy pontoon bridge. What the guidebook didn't say is that I would be sharing it with hundreds of walkers, cyclists, motorbikes and auto-rickshaws? Going both ways on both sides of the bridge. Add to the fact it had a few decidedly ropey planks in spots it was an adventurous walk.
The fort had seen better days but the museum was interesting, containing a few relics of the Raj, such as an Ivory Howdah, bit insensitive, to a set of dueling pistols. It was packed with Indian tourists, and me. A father plonked his 2 year old daughter
Arrived by Train in Varanasi, the city on the banks of the Ganges that has been the spiritual heart of India for several thousand years.
The river bank is lined with Ghats, steep stone steps edging steeply down towards the river. It's difficult to imagine that in a few months all these steps will be underwater as the monsoon floods hit the city.
It's a good city to die in, if you are Hindu, as it means you can break part of the cycle of endless rebirth and edge towards nirvana. Around 80 bodies are cremated each day on the Ghats, each funeral pyre taking around 3 hours to burn. It;s fascinating watching the ceremonies take place, with the bodies being first immersed in the Ganges before being laid on the pyre.
Further along, people are bathing in the river to cleanse their sins. Given the city still pumps raw sewage into the river, cleansing may not be the word.
In the evening I got rowed out to witness the daily ceremony of Aarti, where Braman priests conduct ceremonies with fire and smoke before a devoted audience. The river is chock full of boats all containg either devotees or tourists. Hawkers step from boat to boat with offerings or snacks to sell. It's a mad chaotic spectacular that feels very magical.
Took the bus up to Lucknow, capital of Utter Pradesh. Bus was very efficent but the auto-rickshaw ride the other end was interesting. Dispite promising he knew where the hotel was, the driver had no idea, so we careered through the streets with me leaning over his shoulder holding my iPhone for him to follow the directon on google maps.
Lucknow has several interesting sigthts, including the former British Residency, which in 1857 came under seige during the Indian uprising. Over 6000 were killed and many lie in the cemetary adjouring the site. The building has been left as it was at the end of the seige, with the walls pockmarked with bullet and cannon ball holes.
Another building is the elaborate tomb of a local Holy man, the Bara Imambara. Upstairs is a labyrinth where many narrow corridors lead eventually up onto the roof. It was worth the climb for a great view over the city.
Walking back as always is an adventure, not helped by the limited pavement being full of traders of all varieties, forcing you to walk in the road.
Wednesday, March 15, 2017
Some sites just defy description and the Taj Mahal must be one. Poet Rabindranath Tagore described it as a tear drop on the cheek of eternity, standing on the edge of the Yamaha river. It is of course a tomb, the final resting place of Mumtaz Mahal, the third wife of Shah Jahan, who died bearing her 14th child, probably of exhaustion. He erected the massive mausoleum to her memory at a vast cost. The 1000 rupee entry fee for foreigners is obviously an attempt to recover some of the money.
Shar Jahan ended his days imprisoned in the Agra Fort after being deposed by his son, spending his days gazing downriver at his creation. The fort itself has some amazing buildings and would win many plaudits were it not overshadowed by its more famous rival just down the river.
Despite its heavy tourist impact, Agra is a very pleasant city with lots of green space to sit and enjoy the sun. Lots of families out enjoying the end of the holiday and many impromptu cricket matches going on. Poor India, as if the place was not confusing enough the British gave them cricket..
Today is the holiday of Holi. The main way to mark the holiday is to cover yourself and your friends with brightly coloured packets of paint powder. So almost everyone is walking around looks as if they have had an argument with the Homebase's, mix your own paint machine. Managed to avoid a few close shaves, including a close encounter with a water bomb.
The train I caught from Delhi to Agra starts in the foothills of the mountains and ends in Puna some 2000Km away. It takes forty hours to travel the whole route, making my 3 hour trip rather insignificant. Maybe the managers of southern rail should come out here for a masterclass on how to run a train.
Agra is a lot greener than I remembered it, with a peaceful park in the centre. It's the Taj everyone comes to see though. Some 3 million visitors a year. Twice the population of the city.
Getting used to the chaos that engulfs you whenever you set foot outside the front door. I say chaos but there is an elegant symmetry to everything, as despite the shear randomness of cars, rickshaws and people, plus the odd cow, flinging themselves together in some mad scramble, everyone seems to get to where they need to be. Even if they wear out several hooters on the way.
One respite from the chaos exists at the tranquil Ghats on the riverbank, where great leaders were consigned to the flames and to the pages of history. Raj Ghat is the biggest and is the site of the cremation of Mahatma Gandhi.
One of the newer temples is the Arkshadham, over the river in the eastern suburbs . It's a vast complex with some impressive carvings and has more than a touch of Disneyland, with boat rides taking you through a series of animatronics telling the life of the Ghru. No cameras or phones allowed, so you have to take my word for it.
Visited the tomb of Humayun, one of the great Mughal Emperors and the prototype for the Taj Mahal. It certainly is an amazing building. Photos were allowed here, so I took a few.
Walking back i took a shortcut across the playing fields surrounding the India Gate, and straight through the middle of about 20 cricket matches all being played simultaneously on the same pitch. Now I don't much like being on a field where 1 cricket match is being played, let alone 20. Let's just say there were balls flying from every direction.
Sunday is obviously the day to being your kids out in their radio motorised cars, to whiz around the monument. Although to be honest I say lots of middle aged men playing, with the kids more interested in getting a ballon.