Back to India and Heading North

We flew from Kathmandu back to Delhi, and had nine hours to kill before our 10pm north-bound train. We'd planned to visit the Red Fort, as it was closed the entire month of August and was the only Delhi landmark we hadn't been able to visit. After maneuvering our way through the streets of Old Delhi, we arrived at the fort's gate. "Closed Mondays" typical Steph and Ric luck. Quickly, we established a plan B; go and hang out in the gardens at Connaught Place. A nippy rickshaw ride later we arrived at the gardens. "Closed Mondays". Giving up, we spent the remainder of the day sipping iced tea in Costa Coffee.

The next morning we arrived in Haridwar, 350km north of Delhi. The city is a place of holy pilgrimage for Indians and once every 12 years the Kumbh Mela festival is held there, attracting in excess of 40 million pilgrims! 

Haridwar is located on the River Ganges, where the flat plains meet the foothills of the Himalayas. Interestingly, the rivers has been dammed off to create a man-made canal that can be kept at a certain level, saving the city from the flooding that occurs every year in monsoon season. Along a wide, paved river-front path are bathing ghats where pilgrims take their holy dip in the Mother Ganga. It occurred to me that elsewhere in the world, the path would be lined with expensive restaurants and high-end cafes. In Haridwar, however, it is home to hundreds of homeless people who live tents, bath in the Ganga and generally try to survive. I thought it nice that the people living at the bottom of India's vast shit heap could have such a pleasant space to live, although I would have liked a coffee in a nice cafe at the time!

We where walking around Haridwar with no idea about what sights were there for us to see, when we spotted a cablecar, and decided to go for a ride. At the ticket office there were numerous different tickets with different names and different prices and Ric, impulsively, bought the most expensive one, much to my dismay. I later regretted my criticism as the ticket we'd bought included two round trip cablecar rides, a return bus trip, and entrance to two temples, making it £5 well spent. 

Me at the top of cablecar one, post blessing.

The temples we visited were not very attractive, but the views over Haridwar were nice and I was fascinated by the Indians there making "offerings" to the Gods. Money, flowers and food are offered at every shrine, statue, picture and holy man in sight. The first holy man I came across blessed me, marking my forehead with the iconic red ash, and then refused to release my shoulder from his grip until I coughed up some money! After that I hurried through the temple telling everyone I was "just here for the view". This wasn't a tourist scam though, the Indian people there were throwing around notes like there was no tomorrow, and it occurred to me that for all it's thousands of Gods, Hinduism is no different from Christianity or any other religion on this Earth; it's all about money.

View looking back at Haridwar from the second temple. 

In the evening we attended the pooja (prayer) ceremony on the banks of the holy river. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of people there; sitting on the steps, singing, splashing out on more offerings. We'd also seen a pooja in Varanasi, but due to major flooding it had been a cramped, mini-pooja, Haridwar on the other hand, was the real deal. Suckers we are, we let a priest carry out a prayer ceremony for us, during which we offered flowers and candles to the river while the man in a white dress mumbled quickly in Hindi. Of course, once he was done he asked us for a donation to the Mother Ganga, only 500 rupees he said (£5!). I gave him 50 rupees, which he pocketed grumpily. 

People gather ready for pooja, which starts at sunset.

Pooja in full swing, orange man (center) is a holy priest fellow.

After just one night in Haridwar we caught the local bus 25km up the road to Rishikesh, land of yoga snobs, silent Babas and Anna Skinner!