Delhi, and Finding Myself in Rishikesh

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Rishikesh is the India people come to when they want to find themselves. Naturally, having at last found myself (lost in an ashram), it didn’t take long to locate a cool hotel and a couple new friends. Here in Rishikesh, you have a better chance of finding yourself, than say, finding a beer. This is a holy city, cradling the Ganges on both sides connected by two bridges, Ram Jhula and Luxman Jhula. Holy men and babas beg on the streets, so blissfully enlightened within themselves to be beyond reality’s crushing demands of pleasure, success or community. Every restaurant is vegetarian, alcohol is nowhere to be found, and temples and ashrams line the banks of the Ganges. Unlike Varanasi, where the water pollutants are apparently 150 times more than the most dangerous allowable level, the Ganges flows thick and fast from its source in the nearby Himalayas. There is even a popular river rafting industry, for those who want a holy dip combined with adventure. Wild monkeys sit stoically alongside the leathered, skinny holy men, and those irrepressible cows are everywhere. Hebrew is also in abundance - the Jewish New Year celebrations brought together about 400 Israeli travellers just from Rishikesh alone. Every night alongside the banks of the Ganges, a Puja ceremony takes place in which orange-robed boys sing chants, accompanied by sitar and tabla drumming. Prayers are deposited into the river in the form of delicate flower tributes, which quickly dissolve in the force of the currents. As the sun sets over the Ganges, casting a purple glow on the colourful Hindu temples, the scene is beautiful, humbling, and quintessential India.

Since the young Australian girl drowned a few days ago, there’s no way I’m going for a casual dip in the Ganges. The current took her quickly, and nobody on the beach could do a thing. More signs warning tourists not to swim have been put up, but the river rafting companies seem pretty busy. Instead I decided to hike into the jungle to find a waterfall. Joined by Martin from Austria and Gili and Daniel from Israel, we trekked along the Ganges in the sticky heat for hours, eventually finding a non-marked path that switchbacked into the dense jungle. The sun was already low, and we’d been on our feet for hours before we came across the waterfall, a masterpiece of nature’s magic. Large, neon-coloured bugs cackled away as I had an ice-cold shower with water that has flowed from the world’s biggest mountains towards the world’s holiest river. It was one of the most sensational moments of my trip. During the journey, random Indian tourists insisted on taking their picture with me, and a strange holy man in red paint blessed me while he barked like a dog. I barked back. Back in Ram Jhula, I went to an Iyengar yoga class, in which an elderly German instructor asked everyone in the class to feel my ass muscles while I incorrectly scrunched myself up in a corner trying to stand on my head. Never a camera when you need one.

The Delhi experience, I have learned, is best enjoyed from the luxury comfort of a long-lost friend’s hotel room. Up north amongst the garden-green ashrams and exotic temples of Rishikesh, forget about coming to find yourself; this is the perfect place to get lost for a while.

Shiva Resort
Ram Jhula, Rishikesh

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