NEMY, RISHIKISH, INDIA

RISHIKISH, UTTAR PRADESH, INDIA

MAY 15 , 2011

(There have been times that the four of us can’t agree on the current day, let lone the date, so I think I’m at least close) 

We have come to Rishikish.  Like so many places we have visited it has more than one story to tell but for me it is the River Ganges.  The Beatles came here to try to exorcise some drug demons and maybe for George, Paul and Ringo, Yko Ono.  

KATE NEMY

No visit to India would be complete without experiencing the Mother Ganga.  To over a billion people it is life itself.  It nourishes the soul and sustains the body. Here and just down river, Haridwar, are sacred pilmegrage sites that draw millions at a time. 

A couple of the photos show Mother Ganga taking back hers.  In respect I quietly sat and a goat happened by. (I feel stupid and people look at me rather strangely when I take pictures of goats. Sorry JoAnne for this might be it, as I don’t want to become a closet goat photographer)

The girls took a class on meditating. I think they were half way through one particular chant when they were asked to leave because their time was up.

I am far from bored of our trip but to see the sights that we have so far has kept us pretty much city bound.  After all the garbage, beggars, hucksters, alleys, it’s all starting to look pretty much the same. Having trouble distinguishing one Maharishi from the other.

I don’t drink enough water at home and when I do it always seems because TV doctor says I should.  Here I feed my body and soul with the gift of life. Here I know without someone telling me it is drink or die. At this time of the year here it is a passion of all. Locals and tourists alike. Most water is sold in your various PET size bottles and is carried by many. I find myself at times realizing that I am thirsty, if not parched. It is now that a cool, few things are cold here; drink is one of great pleasure. Here I do not sip. Chugging goes unnoticed. 

This quest to quench one’s thirst is adding dramatically to this garbage-strewn country. Recycling seems as rare as a toilet when you need it.

It seems most everywhere is filled, piled, layered…. with garbage. Day old, week old month old, (keep on going) garbage. At home I find things dirty. Car dirty. Car wash. Dishes dirty.  Dishwasher. Clothes dirty, washing machine. Here nothing is dirty. Here everything seems filthy and grimy. Never washed, never will be. Grime on top of filth. Filth on top of grime. We are aware that we are travelling in a very small window of a whole year. We at home, and many of you have first hand testimonial that we have ample rain and whatnot to wash some if not all of our indiscretions away. Soon the Monsoon will come. Perhaps some freshining will happen. Maybe some will be lucky to have their garbage move, slide next door but what goes around ….

I must write somewhere that when we take a map, pin the places that we have been, it ends up being a very small and selective part of India. Reading and listening, I know that there is probably a lot worse still out there but also a lot better. They say that India is an emerging Super Power and with that it has already brought prosperity to millions. It has ben written that today, 300 million Indians live as we do. Nice homes, schools, malls, SUVs, BlackBerrys and more. If you think that Mumbai has over, in that city alone, 20 million residents, the whole of, and maybe more, the GTA population live at our standard of living if not better. There are more Billionaires in just Bangalore than all of Canada.  The troubling statistic is what about the other 800 million plus?

NICOLA NEMY

Not much comes of good with tons of refuse lying about. It is not uncommon to see cows wandering and eating most anywhere. City centers and like are not known for prime grazing territory. With cows eating most anything they find, we watched a documentary once were a vetenary opened a cow’s stomach(s) and proceeded for ten minute to pull out approx. 15 kgs of various plastics and items generally not common to any living thing.

I had my most “It’s a small World after all”
moment here in Rishikish. I was standing in a small back room of a little sub postal station waiting to have a parcel processed to send home. The posties seemed all polite and so, but we will be with you in fifteen minutes is now closing in on an hour and I am trying to keep myself amused.  The room is pretty much empty but two small parcels ready to ship. One to Amsterdam, one to 1234567. (Took photo of address and now scheming some plan of randomly and anomously sending some transcendental e-mails trying to infer they are from his previous life.