Sunset on the way to Jharkhand

Jharkhand

Our journey onwards from Varanasi began in confusion. Finding the correct platform and then making sure that the train would take us to Daltonganj was no mean feat! Eventually we were underway, across the Ganga, and able to enjoy once more the spectacular views of the Indian countryside. Travelling in Second Sleeper Class needs patience, tolerance and a liking for dust. Virtually no foreigners ever travel to Jharkhand, and so we felt very out-of-place on this crowded train. Our destination is one of the poorest and most lawless parts of India: this was clearly reflected by our fellow-passengers. As darkness fell, the stations became gradually more intimidating. The atmosphere at Garwha Junction was typical: crowds of people milling around but moving slowly, clad in dirty and basic garments both western and Indian-style; the vendors selling simple vegetables with their portable stalls lit by basic candles; a feeling somewhere in the pit of our stomachs that we shouldn’t really be here. As we approached Daltonganj, the feeling of apprehension grew. Once off the train and onto the platform we found ourselves in a sea of sleeping families, camped out on the tiles of the station floor. The railway police tried to get us back into the safety of a station waiting room. Was this REALLY so threatening? All these people, with their slow, zombie-like manner, were far more helpless than threatening. It was then that we met the Kumar brothers with their smiles, good-natured wit and healthy curiosity. We managed to pass about half and hour with nods, jokes and simple sentences based around ‘What country are you?’ and other usual Indian ice-breakers. The Kumars’ friend asked us one astonishing question: “What caste are you?” This alone demonstrates how the majority of Hindus see the rest of the world, and how they relate to it! We tried to explain our “castelessness”, but he then asked about our religion. “What is your god then?” Simon risked the answer: ‘Jesus’. After a few minutes, Jon had gone off to find our lift to the wildlife sanctuary. Simon was musing on the fact that we must be the ONLY foreigners in the entire state. The Jharkhani guy then said something rather unexpected: “So you are Pentecostal then? We are!” And as Simon spun around, he saw Jon talking to a tall Australian gentleman. Simon’s understanding of protestant missionaries was suddenly enhanced. Here was a single, ageing bourgeois westerner (even if only antipodean…) taking it upon himself to tell the members of one of the most ancient, complicated and richly diverse world-religions that they had been doing it ALL WRONG. Way to go, progressive west! As our jeep pulled out of Daltonganj, the smell of open cooking fires and the rancid garbage by the food vendors filled the air. We sped towards Betla and the Palamau National Park scanning the darkness for bandits!

Varanasi

The night on the train was hell. We decided to try and get some sleep at about midnight, after checking that our luggage was safe under the seats on the train. At just before 3:00am we were woken up by police carrying large guns because they wanted to check which luggage was which. “How many peaces you have?!”, they shouted. “How many pieces?!”
We then pointed to our bags and they passed them up to our bunks on the train. The big question running through our minds though was how would it be possible to sleep with the huge backpacks taking up all the space in each of our beds? Well, try we did! Jon curled into a ball taking up about two thirds of his bed, leaving the other third for his luggage; and Simon laid on his side using up that tiny strip of remaining room where his luggage wasn’t. But then things seemed to go from bad to worse. We found out that the train had been diverted onto a rural line, and wouldn’t be arriving in Varanasi until 1.00pm. But wait, the countryside on this diversion was absolutely magical. We rolled at a stately pace through the most picturesque and agricultural part of Uttar Pradesh, past fields of wheat, villages and homesteads keeping goats and cattle, women working in the fields, peacocks pecking at the ground, and trees offering shade for the occasional man on a bicycle. Kipling would have been proud. We eventually made it as far as Faizabad. It was there we encountered our first monkey colony of the day. There they were, scampering along walls, sliding up and down vertical girders, and I am sure there was a game of “tag” happening somewhere there.
On arrival in Varanasi, we were immediately pounced upon by another rickshaw driver wanting our business. We reckon that the rickshaw drivers know exactly where to find the foreigners on the train because our names are written on a large board, usually displayed on the platform. All Indian names are written in Hindi and then translated to English on these notices, unlike our names, which have no Hindi transliteration. We let him play the “hotel scam” on us because he took us to a nicer one, which was cheaper and in a safer looking area than the one we originally selected. After settling in, it was time to take a walk along the ghats. On the way, we felt privileged to enter the small gateway into an ancient Sanskrit College to chat with a local guy feeding another large colony of monkeys.
This city is the most holy site for Hindus and is one of the world’s great spiritual centres. The ghats, which line the River Ganges, are used for ritual bathing, prayer, and cremation. It was incredible to see how the ghats were sectioned. The first section we walked onto was a cremation ghat, which had piles of chopped wood ready for the funeral fires. It is at this first ghat where anybody could be cremated, but further along the Ganga at Manikarnika Ghat, only Hindu people can be cremated. On approach to this ghat, we noticed four fires in progress, with a fifth about to be lit. We saw large sets of weighing scales used for weighing the wood used to burn the dead bodies. Depending on the wealth of the family of the deceased relative, they could afford different types of wood, some more valuable than others. The “dons”, who deal with the bodies, know exactly how much wood to use during the cremation of each body. We were intrigued by the vast amounts of remaining ash on the ghats from previous cremations.
We decided to take a boat ride on the river as the sun went down. The boat was made of wood, and we felt dubious about whether or not to get in because of a few holes we saw in parts. We decided to go for it, but just before we got in, we bought small candles that were in bowls made from dried leaves, which held rose petals. These are prayer candles that are lit and released into the Ganges as a prayer is made.
We timed this boat ride more or less perfectly as we managed to catch part of the evening ceremony of Hindus coming together on the sides of the ghats. There were seven Hindu Brahmin priests dressed in orange, gently waving fire around, as others rang small, high-pitched bells. The ghats were illuminated by the glowing lights of the ceremony. Now, as we reflect upon another amazing day of new experiences, we are writing this on the rooftop of the Sai Kripa Guest House, watching a firework display and eating the HOTTEST curry so far...
Tomorrow we head for Jharkhand and elephants (hopefully)!

Agra and the Taj Mahal

After broken sleep we awoke half an hour before the train arrived at our stop to find that the countryside was no longer the sand, nor the sorry looking trees that stretched out in the never-ending landscape of Rajasthan, but the more lush vegetation and arable land of Uttar Pradesh.
As our train made its approach to Agra Fort station, the railway tracks were lined
with hundreds of people squatting, doing daily routines that we would only consider doing behind our locked bathroom doors. They were mostly in small groups of friends or family members during this ritual, and we have learned that going to the toilet in public is no big deal in India, unlike at home. Leaving the station, for once we weren’t thronged with dozens of rickshaw drivers hassling us, just one young man who looked like he needed the business. An older man then came over and tried to undercut him heartlessly, so we decided to go with the first guy. All ok so far? Well, not quite… Simon said ‘Shanti Lodge, please!’ and the young man them fumbled for a small card in his wallet. ‘No, no, no’ he said; ‘the Sai Palace is much much better’. Oh dear, what to do? Well, we decided to go with the flow, for after all, our time in Agra was to be short: just one day. Enough time to relax, have breakfast, do the Taj justice, try a few curries and then take the train onwards for our next experience. Off we trundled, and it was THEN that it finally happened. After all the dreaming and mental images, there it was, appearing out of the morning mist in a glow that was illuminated by the rising sun. We took a quick snap from across the River Yamuna before checking in at the hotel to get some shut-eye, after a sleepless night on the train.
We woke up later in the morning and had a quick look around Taj Ganj, a suburb of Agra, which had a bazaar of small winding roads bustling with life, and we stopped by at Sheela’s Bar for a naan and a lassi (you should know us by now…). Simon tried a chocolate flavoured lassi and Jon had a papaya lassi. We never knew that there we so many more flavours so we had to try something new.
At about 4:00pm we went to the Taj Mahal. We went late to avoid the majority of the tourists, though there were still too many. Neither of us could believe it when we saw it. From a distance it is very beautiful and almost white. But seeing it close up and in more detail really changed our ideas. One of the most amazing aspects was noticing that the words of the Koran had been inscribed on all arches of the Taj Mahal, and it is from this ancient scripture that the Arabic language is derived. This wonder is made of marble and, when close, it is possible to see little detailed carvings and inlaid decoration. If you are really nosey, you can look through decorative carved holes in the marble walls to some rooms inside, though all we could see was a few logs of wood.
We walked up some more steps and approached the entrance to the building itself where the apparent tombs of the creator of the Taj Mahal, Shah Jahan, and his second wife, Mumtaz Mahal, lie together. However, word has it that the real tombs are beneath the ground on which we were standing. The Taj took about 23 years to build with 20,000 labourers.
In addition to the building, the gardens were very well kept and home to wildlife including green parrots, and we even saw a monkey on one of the walls.
We watched the sun go down at a rooftop restaurant with loads of other people from all parts of the globe, over the best vegetable passanda known to man! On the roofs of houses nearby were children flying kites and one boy lost control of his, resulting in it almost ending up in some guy’s dinner! As the Taj Mahal became shrouded in darkness, the glowing lights of the suburb came on as the muezzins chanted their exotic call to evening prayers from the surrounding mosques. Also the moon, though not full, was giving off a brilliant glow.
To end another great day, we had to go to the station to catch the train to our next stop in Varanasi. Since we only booked the train a few days ago, our names had been put on a reserve list so the thoughts of not being able to get on the train were unwelcome. But luckily, there were seats for us and here we are writing this blog. Tomorrow is to be yet another thrilling and exciting day, for we will wake up in the ancient city of Kashi, the city of light known as Benares, the holiest site in Hinduism, and known to us as Varanasi.

Rahul Jain’s Secret Recipe from the Kanchan-Shree Café

On our quest for the perfect lassi, we got chatting with Rahul, whose family have been running this great bar since 1984. When we get back, our mission is to get them into Lonely Planet or Rough Guides. So Fran, take note. Anyway, here is THEIR definitive way to make the PERFECT Makhania Lassi:
1 kg youghurt,
150-200g sugar (yes, it’s a sweet one),
10mg real saffron dissolved in 25ml rosewater,
15g cardamom,
Finally, mix all this together and leave it to infuse in the fridge for a few hours. This makes enough for 4 people unless your names are either Simon or Jon.

Rats, Temple and Cooking for rats - Deshnok

Deshnok and Bikaner

After managing just 3 hours sleep or so on the train from Jaisalmer to Bikaner, we succeeded in storing our bags in a cloakroom at the station so that we could explore. We arrived in time to buy tickets to travel from Bikaner to Deshnok, where the famous Karni Mata (Rat Temple) is situated. We arrived there at 5.30, before dawn, when it was still dark and it was great to see lights around the temple building and the glows from the surrounding market stalls. Before entering the Rat Temple we had to respect Hinduism and take off our shoes as well as going through a security check. Entering inside, we saw a huge bowl of milk left out for the rats and many were gathered around the edge of the bowl drinking. An extra special atmosphere was created by two people rhythmically banging drums, and by the fires lit for the busy morning puja (Hindu prayers), but being able to watch more people cooking things (presumably food for the rats) whilst the rats were scurrying around them was spectacular! The intense, hypnotic pounding of those three drums, together with the ritual fire, created a dramatic and fervently spiritual atmosphere. Take a look at www.karnimata.com if you would like to find out more about this unique temple.
We were starving when we left the temple so we went and ate a typical Indian snack made from chillies stuffed with spiced potato, all fried in batter. I could taste a lot of cumin seeds, and thinking about it, I haven’t had anything so spicy as that so early in the morning before. In Hindi, Mirchi means chilli.
We then hopped on a bus back to Bikaner, 31km away. When we arrived the first thing we did, as you have all probably guessed by now, was to track down a lassi. It was difficult to find a place that didn’t look infested with germs, but we found one! The lassi was good, but another lassi we had later was even better. However, none of the lassis matched the sheer quality of the Makhania lassis that we had in Jodhpur and Jaisalmer.
Bikaner as a place hasn’t been number one, actually, because the city doesn’t have anything to see besides a nice looking fort, unless you are into heavy traffic and shabby looking shops and markets. We had a look all around but we find ourselves back on Station Road having curry as we speak now. The curry here is amazing! Jon reckons it’s the best curry he has had in India so far or, at least, it’s close. But at least it’s a real and honest city: as we are typing, watching the street chef cook his papadums over an open flame on the pavement, camels glide majestically by, pulling carts driven by their owners. Suddenly our afternoon here in the dusty and windy town of Bikaner took an unexpected and tasty turn: we passed a massive sweets and dessert emporium, and no sooner than Simon had tried to make it past the beckoning open doorway, was Jon already inside, placing a hearty order for tempting sponge balls in syrup and sugary coatings. Luckily, should any dental mishap have presented itself at this particular juncture, we spied Dr. Sanchdev’s Dental Practice immediately opposite the Chapan Bhog sweet shop.
Although we’re tired, there is an amazing sense of expectation. Tomorrow we are to visit the Taj Mahal.