Rishikesh

Beautiful, beautiful Rishikesh... even the name is beautiful. The yoga capital of India and possibly the world; definitely the original world capital of yoga. Perhaps San Francisco has that title now, or somewhere else where health and Eastern philosophies are well revered and costly. It feels so good to be here, so right! Even if I can't do any of the yoga because of aforementioned newly sprained ankle. Oh well.

After a few days when I decide that walking short distances is acceptable, I take a morning stroll across the Laxman Jhula bridge, turn left and begin the short walk to the beach' I used to frequent five years ago, having fond memories of spending the hot afternoons there philosophising with my newfound friends and taking short dips in the freezing Ganga whenever the sun got too much to bear. Fully clothed, but more for self-protection than the fear of offending anyone. And I'm reminded of this after I've been sitting, quietly musing on life for five minutes. Your typical young Indian man saunters down and finds a spot near me in the rocks, bending down as if to have his own private moment with the water. For a fleeting moment I wonder if he's going to perform his own personal puja, but the thought is quashed from my mind as soon as he turns to me, and I think 'here we go again...' And the conversation goes like this:

Boy: "Hello"
Me (reluctantly) 'Hi"
...silence...
"Cigarette. Give me cigarette." No need for manners here obviously...
(Angrily, cause I've had enough of boys like him) "No! I don't smoke"
...silence...
"Fuck. Give me one fuck"
...disbelief...
"ARE YOU ******** SERIOUS?????"
to which I pick up my bag and make for the nearest exit while he runs away in the opposite direction. Fool!

Ahh, I never thought I'd hear myself saying this, but... I may well be over India this time. Over travelling alone anyway. I used to be able to brush situations like this off easily, but now I wonder why I should have to. I'm brimming with indignation and disgust, and unfortunately take it out on any man whose eyes linger on me longer than a few moments in the next few days. Cocky young turbanned Sikhs on the bridge who leer, I turn around and evil eye them back. Proud city-slickers with their designer jeans and childs' mentalities, I push past them and stomp awy from their stares. Skinny bookkeepers that try for generic and meaningless compliments, "Ohhh, so beautiful," get an earful too - "Keep it to yourself! You don't need to comment on my appearance!" Wow. I never knew I had it in me... But I've had enough... although by the next day when I meet some friends for lunch and tell them my riverbank seduction, I can't finish my sentences for laughing at the ridiculousness of it all... I mean, was asking for a smoke his version of foreplay? Did he really think that would work?? Maybe he thought that one day it might... and I find another reason not to love Hollywood and its mindless heroines, giving India this idea that white chicks will sleep with anyone...

God help any woman born into this culture that doesn't have an open minded family is all I can say... again, again, again, I count my blessings...

Rishikesh is hot, but not like Pushkar. In fact, sometimes at nights the clouds gather to listen to the thunder roll in from the distance, and eventually rain down over everything. It cools the atmosphere massively, and makes the recurring powercuts easier to handle. But the height of the day is best spent napping... that's what most of the shop keepers do anyway, and I don't blame 'em...

She's a holy holy place though, Rishikesh, despite the odd opportune horny young boy. Sadhus are everywhere, both real and fake, either asking you for money or leaving you alone completely - that's how you know who's real and who's not. A real baba would never hassle anyone for money or proclaim to perform miracles for a price - they might sit on the street with a begging bowl outstretched if things got too much, but they would never force themselves on anyone. And anyway, the babas get fed here in this holy holy city - I've seen them line up for alms around 6 pm... they have a pretty good life here, all things considered. Particularly given that they choose to leave their families and wander ascetically around the country from pilgrimage to pilgrimage. Yesterday I saw a serious looking dude completely covered in ash, which I can only guess is human ash - he looked like a tantric baba, who hang out in graveyards to break their ideas about life and death and to get over their idea about right and wrong, because in this universe, everything is sacred. Everything is sacred... He walked with his Shiva trident and golden begging bowl as if on a mission, his dreadlocks bouncing in a knot on his head, bare feet well used to pounding the hot pavement.

I find an ayurvedic restaurant that does the most dreamy papaya coconut drink ever - all kind of soft and calming and soothing... but can't finish my plate of mung bean kitchori because of the heat... I wander back, drink lemon soda with some new friends, talk about how India hasn't changed much in all the years we've been here...

And it hasn't, despite the influx of bikes and real coffee shops (No Starbucks here yet, but give them time...) and Western clothes, things have pretty much stayed the same. 90% of the country still have their own marriages arranged for them (in super traditional Rajasthan I met two lovely Brahmin boys who'd been married since they were five, to girls they hadn't even met yet...) and pray to multicoloured gods they'd never question. Places like Delhi and Mumbai are exceptions, and they interest me a lot - this modern India with young minds questioning norms that have stood for centuries. Why not, I say? It's exciting, this thought of change... although I love the antiquity of the place; the silent temples, the dirt roads... I'm torn between the way things are, and the way things could be. If young boys could learn to respect women more, if grown men could learn to be men, if animals weren't mistreated, if rubbish could go in the bin and not on the roadside... imagine how much more amazing this already magical country could be...