KRISHNA AND I ARE ONE

I miss India, and although weather reports are still bad, I leave McLeod for Rishikesh. It makes no sense, but it's easier for me to take the bus to Delhi, and then take an overnight train, than to go more directly to Rishikesh ... same amount of time, but more comfort to go further; go figure, it's India.

The platform at the Old Delhi Railway station is way more crowded than usual. I've taken this train before, and it was never like this. Men are squatting at the platforms edge, waiting for something, and the people keep coming. The platform is becoming packed, the air is becoming more frantic, and I'm getting pushed around. I'm also seeing these large makeshift tinseled ornamental structures being carried by lots of men. The trains pulls in, and people go nuts. The train has bunches of these assemblages hanging from the outside of the train. People are frantically shoving around and yelling to get on the train. What's the hurry, I wonder, we'll all get our seats. Anyway, after some one's trying to grab my backpack off my back, I shove back and hop on board. That burden of a bag I haul around has powerful wheels, and I don't care who's feet I roll over at this point. I've got a good seat on an overnight sleeper, so good that I have to ask a travel mate in my compartment if this is Car A1 ... He glares at me, "Yes, it is." We take an instant dislike to one another. Funny how that happens.

Well ... so much to learn and so little time. All those people did not have seats. This explains the frenzy at the station. They were fighting for standing space, and roof space. At one station the train was stopped for over two hours as police tried to get people off the roofs of the train cars. Sticks flying, head-bashing, and people climbing back on the train tops as quickly as they were thrown off ... so I was told, by my disagreeable compartment mate. I slept through it. It really was a good sleeper/seat. "Hah, I missed all that? I slept right through it." "Yes, you did," Did I hear a hiss? Must need his eight hours.

We get to Haridwar, where I get off for Rishikesh, as does my disagreeable train mate, and almost everyone else. It's BAM BAM BOLBAM; a local Shiva festival. Tinsel, men in orange, more men in orange, and they all yell BAM BAM BOLBAM.

Madness and masses; not enough buses, rickshaws are full, how to get out and on to Rishikesh? My disagreeable train mate asks if I want to share a taxi ... Uh, no. Nothing to do but join the party. BAM BAM BOLBAM! By the time I leave Haridwar, it's late, I've taken way more photos than I wanted, and I'm still not sure what the fuss is all about. It's lots of young men doing some kind of Shiva pilgrimage, but it has more the look of a frat party, in orange, by the river. Men who don't really swim dive off bridges and priests pray. I'm the only western woman I see, and they see me, too. They ask me to take their photos once they've spotted the camera, and it would be rude to say no ... so, snap, snap.

In my car on the way to Rishikesh, I repeat BAM BAM BOLBAM; uproarious laughter in the car. "Madam, you made a good joke." I thought I was merely repeating the slogan. BAM BAM BOLBAM, I repeat; more laughter and heads turning. Like a child with a new skill, I try once more. BAM BAM BOLBAM! Laughter, this time a little forced. I know when to stop.

Turns out this is the Shiva festival I was hoping to avoid by leaving Rishikesh for McLeod Ganj. Rishi was already crazy with people and heat, and I was told it would get worse with the Shiva festival. I was told it begins the 15th and ends after a week or so. When I asked what it was about, the holy man cryptically replied "If one is meant to be there, one will be there." I tried to miss it, but there I was, and here I am. BAM BAM BOLBAM (pronounced more like bomb-bomb, but with a little of the Flintstone's Bam-Bam).

Also going on that night in Rishikesh, and the next day, is Guru Purnima. Party time in Rishikesh. This party honors one's Guru, and their Guru, and their Guru's guru ... Exhausted, I skip the night's festivities and rest up for the "Bandera" of the next day. Food, singing, chanting, more food, Guru speak, and more food. The dogs and the cows love Bandera! Lot's of leftover food, if only they can get through the Temple Gates. This is Rishikesh, not McLeod.
The ashram I go to in the morning has two official ashram dogs "Boon", and "Holy", so named by the westerners who go there. Boon is for "Spiritual Boon" as she likes to spend a lot of time on a meditation veranda by the head maharahji. She's very sweet. "Holy", is more like "Holy Terror" if you ask me, but no one does.







There are three unofficial ashram bulls who come in during breakfast and lunch, and they have to time it just right so the gatekeeper doesn't shoo them away before the end of the meals, when all the left-overs are dumped in one corner for them.
The breakfast/lunch bells rings, and the bulls line up and face, but do not pass through the gate. They wait until the gatekeeper has stared them down, and then turns and leaves for his meal. Then, they walk right through. It's a ritual they go through every day, two times a day.

Also unofficial, but ever hopeful, is an adorable orange and white dog whom I've met in the springtime. He doesn't look that bad, and it turns out he is the dog of a sadhu. He just likes to come in, get some food, and lie down on the veranda. Well, for whatever reason, he is not well liked by the ashram regulars. He gets his butt kicked every time he 's found by one particular ashram regular, and he goes running out, yelping. He keeps trying. He's taken a special liking to me, although I don't feed him (he's always looked good, and doesn't need food from me).

But for whatever reason. when he sees me he comes running, tail wagging and smiling.

Turns out his name is Krishna.

This particular day of Guru Purnima, and extra food, I walk towards the ashram gate and Krishna has been waiting. He's no fool. He wastes no time with playful greetings this day but moves straight to my left side, with his head respectfully bowed down, and we walk, side by side, step for step, shoulder-to-knee, past the gate keepers. They have no reason to deny me entrance, and like this, Krishna and I move as One. He's in. He sticks to me for a few more feet, and I go towards the temple, and with a skip and a wag, he heads for the food. I don't know how long he was there as I didn't see him later that day, but when I saw him on the road the next day, he looked just a bit fatter than usual. The day of Shiva, and Guru Purnima were good to Krishna.