Rishikesh Adventure - February 17

I have been so sick the last 2 days with very stuffed sinuses – and the pressure that goes with them - that all I did was sleep AND use up all my toilet paper on blowing my nose. Now, this was tragic. I brought one roll with me (thank you, Lee and Celeste – I had forgotten to pack it and they gave me one of their rolls the evening I flew out of San Francisco) and was using the drip-dry method for most bathroom calls, saving the TP for those special moments – and then VERY carefully counting squares when using it. I had used less than half and was quite proud that I was going to make it – until the sneezing and runny nose hit. By this morning I was down to about 20 squares and was a little panicky. What do I use next? I wasn’t worried about a bathroom call – just the more immediate - my dripping nose. When the sneeze comes, you have to grab something. What???? There were napkins at each meal in the dining room – but they are only put out at meals and there are just enough for the group. My towel? Gross. My clean underwear? Oh, please. I mean, put yourself in my position – your nose is running, you have no toilet paper – and certainly no Kleenex – what would you use? In the US I would jump in the car and go buy some– not so easy here.

The only good news was that, by this morning, I felt like I was going to live. The sinus pressure had diminished. I called a cab for 11 with plans to go into Haridwar, take the remaining bit of TP with me and show people the roll so they could tell me which stall sold it. No shame here – just GET SOME TOILET PAPER (or anything that will work). I was waiting outside and out came Kavita looking for me. Earlier this week we had discussed going to Rishikesh today but when I saw her I told her I didn’t feel 100% yet, didn’t want to infect her, and could we take a rain check? She, being the politest person on earth, said, “Of course, but you could buy toilet paper in Rishikesh as well. And you have the cab ordered – let’s just go there instead. We will stroll around and then have tea at my house.” I thought about it, ran up and grabbed my camera and some money, and 10 minutes later we left.

I am getting so used to Indian driving that I barely flinch when we careen around cars, trucks, cows, and motorcycles. I don’t even blink when my driver (and everyone else) passes on curves, on hills, on curves ON hills. But when Kavita gasped – and I looked up - and saw 4 lanes of traffic completing covering the 2 lanes of the road – all coming toward us with a huge truck bearing down– I did catch my breath. Why was I worried? Our driver went into the left shoulder – almost into some stalls selling veggies and fruits – and we were on our way.

We came to one section of the road where there was a big trench dug in the middle – no idea why but can assure you it was NOT for underground cable. What would our driver do – actually stay in a lane? No, he put one wheel in the trench and kept going. Keeping options open is the Indian mantra while driving.

I have never described an Indian cab for you. They are the old Ambassadors – an Indian-made car from probably the 70s or 80s. The ones that are left on the road are taxis. They are white, have rounded edges, and the back seat springs are not always the greatest – but you aren’t breathing fumes as you do in a Vikkram (the little jitneys). When I get the photos downloaded I’ll include a picture of one.

As I had mentioned in an earlier posting, Rishikesh is where the Beatles visited in India. We went right by the Maharishi’s ashram and I waved. The town is divided into 4 different sections – each a few kilometers from the last. The first was the usual chaos of little stalls, lots of monkeys, a horse running loose down the middle of the road, etc. This is the section where Kavita’s house is – but a few kilometers away from this center – out in the midst of fields. The next section is where the taxi parked the car – he could go no further. This part, and the section across the river, are the main shopping areas of Rishikesh – along with many Ashrams. I told Kavita that I loved to walk but had to admit my energy level was still really low from being sick. We decided to take it slow. We meandered through lots of shops – almost like a bazaar– weaving this way and that – to the stall that sold toilet paper. Kavita had told me in the car that “In India we don’t use toilet paper for that purpose, we use hankies” and she showed me a little package of kleenix-type paper. I said THAT is what I want and that is what we also use. The man at the stall opened up a large bag of the little individual bags. Kavita asked how many I wanted, I said, “All of them!” He raised an eyebrow, probably thought, “Crazy Tourists” and gave me all of them – for 75 cents.

We walked on to the first of 2 bridges over the Ganges. When we entered the bridge, I thought, foolishly, “Oh, how nice, it’s so narrow that motorcycles won’t be allowed.” With that, honk, honk, and the first motorcycle scooted by. You could feel the bridge sway a little as you walked. Beautiful views of the Ganges and the town – but I quickly figured out you do NOT take out your camera – a beacon call for beggars. The many monkeys on the bridge looked like they were ready to pounce to get any food you might be carrying – and Kavita warned me they will do exactly that.

When we crossed over we meandered through another street of small shops. Many of these shops are about 10 feet wide and 10 feet deep – piled high with products. Some are much smaller. I had great fun – and to have an Indian woman along was wonderful. I know I got good prices – although many were fixed (and actually printed on the product) – unlike Haridwar. What I couldn’t believe were the bookstores. They had all sorts of books – but the prices were so low I KNOW that authors are not getting copyrights on these sales. I bought 3 books by my “swami” – lectures he gave while he was alive. I will read them and see if India is trying to guide me in his direction. By the way, Ravishankar got quite excited when I told him that Yogananda keeps coming into my life. He said I was very fortunate. I’m not sure about that, but do intend to read a little more.

Kavita had lunch while I tried to download photos at an Internet cafe – completely unsuccessful as is obvious – no new photos on the blog. When she came back she took me to a little tearoom. Oh dear, that will give you the wrong image. Melinda and I went to “little tea rooms” in the Cotswold’s in England – charming stone shops with cozy curtains, leaded windows, etc. This was 2 small cement steps up to an open 8-feet wide by 15-feet deep room with wooden tables set at the back. We kept going and there were some outside tables on a balcony overlooking the Ganges. There was a washbasin next to our table where a boy was cleaning dishes and men kept coming from a back area adjusting their belts. Kavita asked about a bathroom and they said they had none, so I don’t even want to know what the men were doing!

We walked back to the bridge, carefully holding my bag to my chest so the monkeys could not smell some cookies Kavita had purchased and then to the cab. He then drove us to Kavita’s house. She uses it rarely, visits it maybe every 2 months to air it out. It is a big house by Indian standards, cement with a flat roof where they often ate dinner in the summer when they lived there. It is bigger than Arpi’s house in Rajasthan and the screened windows look out at the countryside. It was a most relaxing hour or so. Some neighbor children come by who appear whenever Kavita does – they work for her because she gives them money and cookies. She had them sweep it out. They were from a poor family who lived down at the end of the road.

On our way out we stopped at the big house where friends of Kavita live - right next to the hovel where these children were. The friends invited us in; we had chai while we sat in their beautiful garden under a mango tree. The sun was setting while we chatted – another big, fat, orangish-red Indian sun that set into the Himalayan foothills that surround Rishikesh. On the way to the cab I glanced into the hovel – made of branches, covered with a tarp-like fabric. There was a fire on the dirt floor and at least 8 people were inside this tiny house. The contrast of the haves and have-nots is so great in India. They were living immediately next store to Kavita’s friends – one wall was shared. Kavita’s friends owned the land. They certainly could have kicked them off – but they hadn’t. There are many examples of kindness in this country – as there are in the US. I just don’t know how many wealthy persons in the US would tolerate the existence of terribly poor squatters next door. On our way back, we passed the children using the money from Kavita to buy candy at a local small store – is that not like children everywhere?

Got back to the Ashram – absolutely exhausted because of my lack of energy – but what a great day it was AND I have something for my nose! Will worry about toilet paper later.