**post complete**
I rolled up in Delhi, not at all eager to get out of the coach! I was going to go from my temporary feeling of opulence, back into the abyss of Old Delhi station and general homelessness.
I got down off the train and headed over to the Cloak Room to deposit my bag. The first time I did it (a couple weeks back), it was a hassle, and it looked about like a repeat. In fact, there were so many people there and so little effort being expended by the important-people-in-charge, that I decided to come back later.
The Old Delhi station has a McDonald’s in it, but it doesn’t have much of the same food, as hamburger is not ok here (being that cows are sacred). It was morning and I was honestly really looking forward to an Egg & Cheese Biscuit and some hashbrowns (even writing that several days later, is making me salivate!). But they don’t have a breakfast menu, you can just get the regular menu. A McVeggie it was (which was apparently peas and carrots, and probably some potato, along with spices), and some fries. I was looking for a juice-type drink, but before I knew it I had a Coke, and I could see the act of God that it would take to reverse that decision.
I had a seat and saw a Westerner come in with about twice the pack I am carrying, and he was eating the same thing. We said a few words to one another after a bit. A friendly guy, maybe from the UK. It was a nice couple sentences back and forth, mainly about the McVeggie, and it wasn’t forced like when two Westerners are in a room and feel like they “should” say something to one another.
He had a porter or guide of some sort help him out of the restaurant. I wished him well and finished eating.
I eat slow here. I mean really slow. Partially it’s the heat. And partially, I’m just getting used to the slow lane. Nothing is quick here. Doesn’t matter if you want it to be quick or even need it to be quick, it ain’t gonna happen. So, better to relax and go with the flow. Eating that McDonald’s meal took me almost an hour. It was a sandwich and a small fry and a small Coke, well maybe they call the small medium now. Whatever it was, it was the small one.
I ate one french fry at a time. And usually not even a whole one. Then I would chew it. And chew it some more. Then swallow. Pause for a minute. Maybe a sip of Coke, maybe not. Then the rest of the french fry.
It is almost like a meditation, lol. Like a ritual or an exercise in mindfulness. I’m not trying, but that’s the way it seems to come.
In America, I grab 3-5 fries at a time, and they all go in my mouth, the entire length of them, doesn’t matter if it’s one of those long-ass ones. I dip (or more like scoop) the ketchup with my bundle of fries, and chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp, swallow. Maybe I get 5 chomps in there instead of 4. But the point is, it’s rather like a machine. Here’s it’s not like a machine.
Since I left Rishikesh, I seem to have changed gears. And it’s not just the food. When I was in Old Delhi for the train before, and I had 10 hours, I thought it seriously could not get worse than that. 10 hours of hell. But my 8.5 at Haridwar I didn’t really get upset about. I just thought, oh well, looks like I have a while here yet. And this was before Nishant showed up.
In the very beginning of the “in-country” portion of the blog, I mentioned that I felt like I just needed to put my head under. Do you remember that? Well, I did at that point, to the best of my ability. And it feels like whatever resistance remained (largely unconscious, mind you), largely left me when I left Rishikesh. I did not feel any change or any “letting go” but I can tell that something did let go.
It took 3 weeks, but I feel like I’ve settled in. My legitimate anxiety over the obstacles I face seem to be gone. Whether it will return or not, I cannot say, but suffice it thusly: I thought after Rishikesh I would have some of the greatest difficulty I’ve yet faced, as I had multiple trains, lack of bathrooms, interrupted sleep, irregular meals of unknown train food, unreliable access to water, a strict time-schedule, and a lack of electricity for charging my phone (and lifeline: calendar, train tickets, email, photos, etc. all live on it). This is in addition to all the regular obstacles, like signs not in English, language difficulties, and the oppressive heat. And Yet, my “worry” about those things just seemed to kind of melt away. I simply wasn’t worried about it. And the several days since I left Rishikesh have been some of the most interesting and in some ways the best…
When I left McDonald’s, I headed back to the Cloak Room and handled my business (stored my big bag, and only took the daypack for around Delhi). I found the metro station nearest the railway station, and got another Tourist Card. I found my way to the New Delhi railway station (there are 4 or 5 in Delhi), because they have a Foreign Tourist Quota office, and I was able to book the earlier train out of Mumbai as FTQ, when I couldn’t with the General quota. I also picked up a 2AC class ticket to replace a 3A later on.
I went from there back onto the metro, and got off at the Kashmere Gate metro station; the area around the Ladakh Buddhist Vihar and market. There’s supposed to be a “secret” temple which is virtually unfindable, and it is one of Neem Karoli Baba’s temples. I figured I’d give it a shot.
Out of the station, and using my compass, I got my bearings. Walked a few hundred yards, grabbed an auto for 10rs (he wanted 20) up the street, and there I was. I found the market, and for some reason, I walked right on past it. It felt like some kind of homing beacon. I kept walking and then I looked to the right. I knew I going to find it. Just had this feeling. And sure enough, there is a little sign, and it says something about 1965 which is the year it was built. I walk under the freeway overpass and there was the temple. Totally hidden away, you’d never know it was here.
Out comes a man who gets the keys to the temple (it’s not usually open), and has me take off my shoes. I go inside and go to the front. I am given a bit of the holy water in my hands (and make the proper gesture in my hands thanks to my conversation with Maruti in Varanasi). In the front of the temple are pictures of Maharajji and Hanuman. There is a necklace made from marigold heads. The man removes it from the picture of Maharajji and puts it over my head. He gives me prasad (which is food that has been blessed and is given out to the people), in this case it tasted like dried fruits of some sort. He then takes something from the original Hanuman murti, and puts it on my forehead. This is the “dot” that goes between the eyes. On women, it is apparently not the same as for men, and is applied daily. For men, it has more religious significance and is applied by a pujari or someone similar. Think of it like Ash Wednesday with Catholics.
I ask if I can sit for a bit and he brings a mat and lays it on the floor in the front of the temple. I sit in the quiet - and it is peacefully quiet in here, listening to the birds and the cows outside. Just sitting contentedly, peacefully, thankfully. I had been to Kainchi Dham in Nainital and I wrote about the experience in one of the Nainital blog posts. I guess I was expecting to feel something there and didn’t. And I didn’t even really expect to find this place, let alone have an expectation about what it would be like.
It was just very peaceful.
A couple of boys who take care of the temple and live in a house on the grounds, came up to me as I walk out of the temple. They asked me if I wanted to see the Yamuna. The Yamuna River is another holy river in India. The Yamuna and the Saraswati (an invisible river) join with the Ganges in Allahabad at the Sangum. I said yes, and they led me down to the banks and I took some pics.
We walked around for a bit, looked at the Buddhist Vihar temple just south of there, and headed back after getting some water.
When I got back, the pujari (the actual “priest”) was there, and had me come into his house. He is the grandfather/father to the an and boys I had met earlier. The pujari is almost 100 and knew Maharajji personally. He offered me bhandara food (special prasad) and had some brought to me when I agreed. They cooked dal, potato parantha, and several kinds of vegetables for me, along with some fresh yogurt from the cows outside. We talked (via the boy who acted as translator) for a couple of hours, and it was a very nice experience.
He tells me to bring my wife and child back next time, and we can stay for free and eat for free for as long as we want.
The pujari blesses me several times with his hands on my head, which he says is a direct blessing from Maharajji for health. We go out and walk around the outside of the temple clockwise (circumambulation) and he asks me to take some pictures of the temple. We finish and sit for a bit longer before it’s time for me to go. They ask me where and I say to the Chandni Chowk station eventually, as that’s the one closest to the Old Delhi railway station. We hop in a car (I don’t pay a dime), and they take me to the nearest station. The purjari gets out and I go to shake his hand, but he motions me down the stairs of the metro station. I think wow. He’s going to lead me to the ticket counter.
The pujari is a fast for being almost 100 years old. He’s clicking away at a good pace and I’m keeping up with him. He goes up to the ticket counter and buys me a ticket, which I don’t need, but he doesn’t realize, and then proceeds to get on the metro with me and motions for me to sit next to him (the pujari doesn’t speak English at all). I do and we ride to my stop where he blesses me with the hands on the head in the crowded metro coach, and off I go.
That was crazy!
One the way, he had been blessing all kinds of things and giving them to me, a calendar, a booklet in Hindi, another marigold necklace, they just kept coming. He gave me water from the Yamuna, and then another smaller bottle of water.
It was a really cool experience. One that I will not likely ever forget.
Back into Old Delhi station, wait a couple hours, pick up my bag, and reflect on the two previous days. I get on the train, despite the placard being wrong and the board notice, and I end up in a side berth of the 3AC, which is (thankfully) the tiniest bit longer than the side upper berth in the Sleeper class. The air-conditioning is struggling with as many people as are in 3AC class, but it is cooler than it is outside, so it’s progress.
I sleep relatively well, except when a group of 6 additional people showed up in the berth for 5 hours in the middle of the night with children who were apparently deaf because they shouted everything at full volume. The rest of the Indian people didn’t seem to mind, and I put in my earplugs and went back to sleep eventually. I’m not sure on how that stuff happens, as now there were 11 people in one section, but it did.
I woke to find them and the others gone, and replaced by 3 army guys going to Jaisalmer. Jaisalmer is a big military place because Pakistan is only about 60 miles away. They drove tanks, and were fun to talk with. They gave me some food, and I split my last Kind bar (a type of fruit-granola bar) with them, and showed them pictures of my life in the States. They wanted to know everything about America.
I arrived in Jaisalmer (after 18 hours), and negotiated a tuk-tuk down by 50% for the ride to Khuri. And hour an a half later, and with a sore bum and head (the bars are too close for a taller person), I found Badal Singh’s place in Khuri, and that’s where I write this from now.
It is very peaceful here too, and I could stay here for a while, though I only have two days on my revised Rajasthan itinerary. It doesn’t have AC and I miss it, but it’s a worthy trade-off. Tomorrow is the overnight camel safari in the Thar desert, and I’m getting tired of writing.
I’ll share more about Badalji and Khuri, and the safari in the next several days, so stay tuned!
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