9th August
We awoke early and left the guesthouse by 5.30 am to catch our Dehradun Janshatabdi train from NDLS station. We didn’t know which side the train would arrive and due to a traffic jam [yes, at 5.45 am!], we were driven by the taxi-chappie to the Ajmeri side of the station. If we were at the wrong end, there were 12 platforms to cross over since the train arrived at either platform no. 1 or 12 [an estimated extra 15 mins]. Sure, we were travelling light. Further, our luggage was negligibly lightened when we shed off our
Amidst the AC environs, the food laden trays that came at regular hours and intermittent snoozing and yapping, the journey was comfortable. [Loo verdict: bad and shame too since this was the much-hyped Shatabdi train]. We were excited and had begun the first phase of our trip. We reached
On the train, a friendly uncle told us that the cab ride to Rishikesh where we were to spend the night, would cost us Rs 400. Some sort of agent floating around the prepaid booth quoted us a figure of Rs 760. Fifteen minutes later, the sweltering heat swathing us, each struggling to our two pieces of luggage around to find an alternative cab stand - we were none the better. That was the only taxi-stand, a so-called Government owned one, not a cop in sight. The only alternative was a stuffy bus ride that would cost us Rs 15 each and in this heat and strain, seemed painful, not to say self inflicting. We tried our bargaining hand with the booth fellas and couldn’t get to the magical figure of Rs 400 but instead to Rs 560. We agreed and set out to Rishikesh.
I wanted the cab guy to drive by the town to have a dekho of the famed town beyond its filth lined station road but apparently taxis weren’t allowed into the city [or so the cab chap claimed]. Anyway, the fare was to the Great Ganga [a hotel that my friend, Gits fondly mentioned when I spoke to her before leaving
We reached Rishikesh at 12.30 pm. The Great Ganga was situated atop a huge slope, at Muni-ki-reti, just outside the town and just before the famous Ram and Lakshman Jhulas, the ropeway bridges across the
After freshening up and a chai break, we set out to explore the jhulas, where reportedly the Bollywood flick, Bunty and Babli was shot. While we came prepared for the cold of the
At LJ, we figured that Chotawala [CW] was at Ram Jhula, incidentally very close to our hotel, so it was a tuk-tuk back again, this time shared with some college students. Vash also managed to keep the tuk-tuk man in giggles whenever she mentioned ‘chotawala’ and only when we crossed to the hotel, we realized that it was ‘chotiwali’, as it someone with a choti [or a pony/ pig-tail]. The two words have very different meanings. In Hindi, the ‘cho’ of both words is also pronounced differently and interchanging one for the other guaranteed the laughs of the tuk-tuk circle of that town for atleast a week.
Descending down to the Ram jhula from the road on the high slope and crossing the bridge to get to CW an experience. There wasn’t any jute ropeway or precarious structure but a robust ensemble of steel in a faux ropeway style, about 5 ft in width, enough for people and the frequent motorcycle to come through in a two-way single file, the jhula constantly shifting as people moved on it and the mighty Ganges flowing undulating beneath it, without a hurry in the world. Lunch at CW was every bit as promised, rich, sumptuous and finger-licking good in true Indian style. Completely veg, but we knew that this side of the world, we could kiss non-veg goodbye. We met the chotiwali man, pancaked in make-up with his choti in clear display, infact there’s a snap of us with him somewhere.
Fuelled by good food, chilled water, bandanas and glares, we decided to check out LJ. But first, we needed to climb up the stairs to get back to the road from the bridge. In the hot sun, the ascent seemed like a trek itself and we were tired. Bowing to the sun’s relentless fury, Vash who had visited Rishikesh [on a rafting expedition] earlier, decided to skip LJ and the walk in the sun, and instead wait for us in the cool of a roadside shop. Vidya and I carried on, following the long, long winding path down to the river to cross the LJ. Vehicles kept passing by, hardly anyone else seemed to be walking. A long time later, with a new sun cap in my possession, when we hadn’t yet reached the river bank, we called Vash and asked her to return to the hotel since we were going to take much longer than expected.
Finally, when we got there, LJ was such a disappointment. Much narrower than Ram Jhula and with twice the number of people, we hurried amidst the crowd to get to the other bank and get it over with. Vidya made a quick 2 minute visit to a 13-storeyed temple while I guarded her shoes outside from the prowling swell of people. We zipped back across the LJ and this time around, we found a short-cut, much steeper but definitely quicker, almost like an urban ‘pagdandi’ track, curving around shops that were situated on the slope between the river and the road. And fairly crowded. No wonder, on our descent earlier, Vidya and I seemed like the only jokers walking - most folks would have used this path.
As we were leaving the banks, we were surprised to see a German bakery, packed with foreigners and offering some delicious baked goodies. No doubt a Lonely Planet recommendation. We decided to forego the goodies, more attractive to us, now that we were so far away from home, and get on with our ascent. En route, we stopped at a hotel, Lakshman JD delux that was somewhere just after LJ and with a view to die for. An entire long shot of the
We sat on their terrace, just alongside the river bank, took our shoes off, ordered a limesoda each and just watched the river flow by. Rishikesh is pure white water rafting country and though the season was well over, we tried spotting rapids in the panoramic landscape of the river that the hotel offered. The sun was beginning to ease off and the view just lulled everything to a peaceful tranquillity, while we both sat quietly, in idyllic ease. Several blissful minutes later, when the hotel guys, in all probability forgot about our order, we left [after informing them]. A tuk-tuk and ten minutes later, we were back, appreciating the cool AC blast in our room.
During our jaunt in the blazing sun, Vash had done some homework and visited the GMVN office to figure out our accommodation in Joshimath, our next stop. Apparently, the guesthouses are booked to the T and only the local manager’s intervention could help, so appeals were to be made to him.
Our more immediate problem was to get to the bus station the next morning at 4 am. The distance wasn’t much, 15 minutes at max but the lack of a reliable means of transport at that hour was worrying. The taxis through the hotel were atrociously expensive at Rs 500, hardly any tuk-tuks would ply and walking down was not an option. After literally arm twisting the hotel desk manager with various pleas to the tune of us being students on a shoe-string budget, he spoke of a ‘unreliable’ tuk-tuk chap that he knew of. He made a big show of calling him, and “for us, negotiated a low amount of Rs 200”, while clearly absolving himself of any responsibility incase the tuk-tuk failed to appear in the morning. In the lack of any other viable option, we took him up on it.
The same evening, after relaxing baths, we had tea on the yoga room balcony. Though sunset wasn’t visible on the western bank that our hotel was located on, we were treated to a vivid display of oranges, peaches and pinks that the sunset evoked. That accompanied by the satsang like soothing singing, low in volume, that emitted from an ashram on the opposite bank of the river, most likely an Iskcon temple, produced positive vibes around and created a relaxing ambience. It soon turned into a disturbing cacophony of religious songs/ chants, each trying to outdo the other in terms of volume. Though the tranquillity was short-lived, it was a memorable evening at dusk and the image of the river, gradually disappearing into darkness as nightfall arrived, only to be a little illuminated by a sole diya, let afloat on the water, will stay with me.
Dinner at Rishikesh was peaceful, we walked down to ‘Madras Café’, which seemed decent and served good simple food, thankfully with nothing Madrasi about it. A tuk-tuk back and a bout of packing later, it was again past 11 pm when we fell asleep.
