hare krishna

rishikesh, india

i've made a decision: i like rishikesh. i wasn't entirely sure that i would and the choice to come here (and for an entire week, at that) was a true roll of the die. it happened to be somewhat convenient geographically for a gap in the itinerary between a tour through rajasthan and meeting arriving friends in delhi. it also received a few recommendations. it is always risky where you decide to take longer periods of rest during a large trip. travel, contrary to conventional wisdom, is not easy: there are exhausting bus rides, frustrating negotiations (constantly, constantly), continuous movement, and the mental stimulation can sometimes be taxing. for these reasons (and countless others), every big tour needs a place where you can set the pack down for an interval, where you can sleep in, chill out, do the laundry, and catch up with those books you've been carrying for weeks. for early august, i came here.

rishikesh is one of several hill stations throughout india: places (in hills) where people escape the heat of summer. with its holy status, rishikesh has attracted heat escapees and hindu devotees for centuries. but with the arrival of four lads from liverpool in 1968, this place was transformed from a regional mecca into an international bastion of yoga and meditation. the beatles came and stayed with maharashi mahesh yogi, writing nearly half of the tracks that would eventually grace the white album. word got out and this place was 'put on the map' (disregarding aforementioned indian history, of course).

i feared that by coming here, i would develop rishlash (not the term for an injury suffered in a japanese car accident). rishlash would be an overdose of the commodity that no place like rishikesh provides: inner peace. basically, the people in all the new age bookstores from berkeley to boulder wish they could be here. you couldn't throw a lotus without hitting an ashram and whichever way your downward-facing dog pose is facing: there is a yoga center in that direction. i certainly partake in and appreciate the local culture and those westerners seeking to inject a little more east in their lives, but i always fear those who take too much of anything.

i feared that i would run into people from all over the world who'd decided to find their answers along the ganga and beneath the himalaya rather than where their problems arose (see: escaping). it would be easy to drink the chai in such an idyllic setting; there's a reason this place inspires so much devotion. it would be easy to see so many people in states of bliss and feel compelled to join the most seraphic form of groupthink. fortunately, what i've seen is different.

i've found my fellow travelers to be open-minded, expectedly, yet more grounded than my worst fears had predicted. and the locals: they're indian. all that one loves and hates about india is present here. the surprises (one man, out of nowhere, yelled to me, 'everything is possible' from the street the other day), the vivid colors, the crippling poverty, the begging, the unprompted feeding or smacking of sacred cows, the incessant (and i mean incessant) honking, the conversations (came across a man in the middle of a path in the forest yesterday, sitting in the rain, who asked me to join him and we talked for ten minutes), the remarkable kindness, the insane (why is that sari-clad, toothless, old woman screaming at that man like that?), and my new favorite: the hindu pilgrims.

sitting next to a hindu pilgrim or hindu priest is to realize that you are traveling. it is one of the most poignant reminders that people from two worlds can inhabit the same physical space. they (generally) have long hair and long beards (implies saintliness and i agree), usually some form of painting or marking on their forehead, wear a towel around their waist and occasionally a shirt (both are nearly always orange), and carry a small wooden staff. they smoke their indian cigarettes, drink their chai, and most are dependent on the goodwill of others for food. some are quacks or fugitives, to be sure, but to see the way they are respected and supported by the community is humbling. their ubiquitous presence along the narrow pathways overlooking the ganga has added the culture to my rest, the spice to my curry.

so even if this place was not inhabited by so many exotic souls, if it wasn't so relaxing, if it really wasn't so peaceful and real, and even if i wasn't enjoying just the chance to not move for the first time in weeks (months?), i'm sure i could think of another reason for why i'm enjoying myself in these hills. but for now, the aforementioned should suffice. tonight i dine and rest, without rishlash, to be sure.