This is a continuation of the previous post on our short trip to Ladakh.

After seeing the Indus river on that evening, we left to see another Buddhist monument – The Shanti Stupa. The Shanti Stupa stands majestically amidst a backdrop of high peaks and the sun shone down on the monastery, giving it all a divine feel.

The Stupa has beautiful drawings and paintings of the Buddha and other deities.

Treks are usually not my cup of tea (or kahwa, for that matter), but this place is too appealing to be missing out on long walks. We set out to go to the Gyamska valley (at least that’s how our driver pronounced the name) and were greeted by this structure at the entrance:

After what seemed like thousands of kilometers of walking along the foot of a mountain, we finally reached the much promised valley!

To make it even better, there was a glacial stream flowing right through this valley. The water was ice cold and crystal clear. And, of course, it was wonderful to drink it right off the stream as it gurgled downhill.

While I was busy during the days attending a meeting, the Mrs. got a chance to visit some Ladakhi homes. Here are some great looking pictures she took:

Our next stop was the famous Khardung La pass, the world’s highest motorable road, located at a height of 18380 feet above sea level. The road to get there was very scenic and I got to see some of the most breathtaking views I have ever seen in my life:

After almost an hour of driving up into the mountains, we finally reached Khardung La.

What greeted us was expanses of white snow on the sides of the mountains and a sudden chill in the air. The snow was not as clean as I had anticipated, but I managed to dig some out from below the top layers:

Here at Khardung La there is a small restaurant that serves tea and the best Maggi I have ever eaten. Seriously, there was something different about the Maggi cooked here. Or probably it was just that the cold was too much and the hot Maggi in simmering water made it feel heavenly.

Another place we visited on our way was the Magnetic Hill. Local knowledge states that when a car is placed on a particular location on the road, in neutral, it moves uphill towards a mountain which is nicknamed the Magnetic Hill. We did see the thing in front of our eyes, but one of our guides spoiled it for us by saying that some sceptics consider this to be an optical illusion. It was too cold for me to argue my thoughts on the concept of optical illusions, so I let it be.

Our organizers had arranged for a camp outing along with lunch on the banks of the Indus. This was a beautiful moment and we got to spend hours sitting alongside the river, with our legs dangling into the cold water while the mountains watched patiently.
This, the photo on the right, was the loo of our camp. It was a hole in the ground, covered with a colourful looking tent, zip et al.

We then left to visit the point where the Indus meets the Zanskar river. The two join here and the resulting river continues to be called Indus.

After visiting the various market places, and checking out a cool restaurant called the Wonderland (cheesy name yeah, but a great roof-top seating makes up for the name), we finally had to bid farewell to this paradise of this part of the world.

Previous post on Ladakh: Ladakh Photo Diary – 1

This is a first in a series of posts depicting our Ladakh trip in pictures.

First some background. Ladakh is a province in the state of Jammu and Kashmir in India. It has two main towns – Leh, considered the capital of Ladakh and Kargil. Situated at a height of over 11,000 feet above sea level, the oxygen levels here are lower compared to the cities we live in. It is close to the China and PoK borders and the famous Siachen Glacier.

In case you are planning a trip to Leh, be advised that your first day in Leh should comprise of, and only of, complete rest in your hotel room. Doctors suggest a resting period of at least 36 hours. Otherwise, you tend to suffer from altitude sickness. During summers, Leh is considerably warm and dry. There is not much of humidity so the sun can be harsh. Now, sit back and enjoy the view.

The Himalayas from the plane’s window as we flew through the mountain range on our way to Leh. Majestic and awe inspiring:

An aerial snapshot of the airport of Leh:

As we got off the plane on to the rudimentary looking tarmac, there was a slight chill in the air. Looking around, we were surrounded by mountains and the presence of the Indian armed forces was easily felt. There are various mountains which have some inspiring texts written by the various regiments. One of the mountains had the following written in white and visible from air:

Touch the sky with glory

Once at the hotel, we were asked to take complete rest to acclimatize ourselves with the low levels of oxygen. In the evening, we visited a Buddhist monastery nearby.

The person who used to run this monastery, Mr. Kushak Bakula, had initiated a lot of social and development work for the town of Leh. Owing to his great work, he had been awarded India’s Padma Bhushan title. For the first time ever, I got to see how the certificate of a Padma Bhushan award looks like:

After having spent time at the monastery, we went to a river nearby. And well, this wasn’t just a river nearby. It was the Indus river. The Indus river – the mother of civilizations in this part of the world!

It was a strange feeling to be able to dip your fingers into a river of such historical significance.

More on this trip shall continue later. Watch this space, ladies and gentlemen.

Update: Read part 2 of this trip here.

The Divine Trip – 2

Starting off from Mathura, we went through Delhi on to the road which had a huge green banner saying Hardwar with an arrow pointing upwards. Suddenly the upward arrow had an altogether different meaning.

As we continued to travel through the various towns and villages, I suddenly realized that India is a lot more than coffee shops and cubicle-savvy companies. There are people who tow tons of cargo on handcarts, there are people who earn their living by selling tea in 2 feet by 2 feet shacks. There are people who drive trucks from one end of the country to another just to make sure you get your fresh stock of fruits. There are people who actually wait for those packed buses. There are people.

We approach Hardwar and I was very eager to catch a glimpse of the mighty Ganga. The river that is the backbone of most Indian epics and is known to be the river of the Gods. We drive down the road leading to Hardwar, take a turn around a slope and there it was. The Ganga in full flow. The river that I had heard so much about and the river that carried divinity in every one of its drops.

We got off at the bank and were told that we were in time for the Ganga aarti. The aarti is a daily tradition where thousands of devotees and pilgrims gather on either sides of the river and chant a prayer to the mighty river.

The aarti is a sight that cannot be described in words. The feeling that one gets cannot be described by the threads of thoughts of the mortal mind. I shall attempt to write about it, but it would not cover even a smidgeon of the actual visual vividness.

A crowd begins to form on both sides of the river. The crowd keeps getting bigger and bigger as the time of the aarti comes closer. Thousands of devotees – some sitting, some standing, some with their hands together and eyes closed as if in a trance, some carrying flowers and some just in awe of the whole scene.

The aarti is led by the main priest who holds the flames of the aarti to the Ganga. The prayer is broadcasted on the loud speakers and everyone joins in. It is a beautiful prayer with the drums and the cymbals adding to the transcendental experience.

Hundreds of diyas are lit in earthern lamps on large leaves. These are then gently set afloat on the river. Within minutes, one sees these hundred odd lamps lighting the entire river. The river takes these offerings in a hurried manner and pulls them away towards the horizon. A hundred lights bobbing up and down in the river ensuring you that your faith remains alive as long as you are willing to continue looking at it.

Water and fire blended together under a calm saffron sky and everything was a part of everything else.
The drums and cymbals kept the symphony going and it is then you realize that this place is just not an ordinary pilgrimage site. It has more to it than just the temples. It has the divine river that seems to remind you of the fact that there is something beyond what you see in your daily lives.

Then it was time to have tea at one of the roadside tea stalls, sipping on sweet milky tea in sticky cups, letting that wonderful phantasmagoria sink in to the recesses of your soul. After a dinner comprising of a motley mix of various roadside eatables, we head off to the foothills of the Himalayas – to the town of Hrishikesh.

Coming up next: Hrishikesh.
Read part 1 here.

The Divine Trip – Part 1

Last night, over a conversation with a friend, I started talking about my last year’s trip to Hrishikesh and Haridwar. Not having much to say to the world these days, I bring to you a travelogue in parts. Evidently, this is part 1.

We started off from Bangalore on a Kingfisher flight to Delhi. A divine start, no doubt, with the air-hostesses assuring me that there is heaven indeed up there in the skies.

We reach Delhi and our host drives us down to the United Coffee House at Connaught Place. A nice little quaint looking place in the middle of a busy street of Delhi, this place is anything but a small little coffee house. It is filled with Delhi’s apparently-snooty crowd (I add apparently to absolve myself of all crimes). We eat some good north Indian food, something which comes at a fair premium down south.

Then the night drive all the way to Mathura. In the meanwhile, I tend to recall Lord Krishna’s appealing antics in the gardens of Brindavan. Brushing all that aside quickly, I resolve to be my religious self for the next few hours atleast.

The first thing that strikes you about Mathura is its drainage system. All you see is drains. In front of shops, in front of hotels, across roads, underneath the parked vehicles – wherever you go, there are open drains. The place reeks of dirt and filth.
I see that I forgot the main point here – Mathura is Lord Krishna’s birth place.

As you walk along the streets of Mathura, the smell of the drains is replaced by the smells of incense, smells of vermillion powder and the smells of huge stocks of dairy products. To negotiate through the crowded streets, one would be advised to hire one of those cycle rickshaws. A little bit of haggling is always due in India before buying any service. So is the case with these rickshaws. After settling down for a price of Rs. 100, you get rickshawed for about half a kilometer to the banks of the Yamuna. (Damn, I used “India” in the last but one sentence as though I don’t belong here. Damn, I have begun to sound like those Lonely Planet travellers. Damn.)

The Yamuna seems to have taken upon itself the task of looking as messed up as Matura. To put things in perspective – the river is dirty.

We hire a small boat to go till the middle of the river and the priest assures us that there is some kind of ceremony that we should perform. So, as part of this, we drop two coconuts and some cloth along with vermillion and turmeric into the already full river. I cringe as I see all that colour disturbing the sanctity of the once-mighty river. But I immediately look at the people all around me, with their eyes closed and hands together in fervent prayer. God probably wants it this way, I tell myself, and close my eyes and bring my hands together.

In the distance, you see old temples jutting out from the banks of the river. A beautiful sight.
Getting back to the streets of Mathura, the one thing you will find here is the abundance of priests. Everyone of them comes running to you asking you to perform some seva or the other. They will also offer to be your guide during your stay in the town. They are, what a companion crudely called, fleecing experts. They can make your wallet lighter without you even knowing it.

Our first stop was at the home where Krishna had swallowed sand and upon being asked to open his mouth, had revealed the entire universe to his mother. What was of interest to me was that the area surrounding this home still has very fine sand. No other area in and around Mathura has this sand. The sand is so fine that it almost feels like a carpet under your feet when you walk on it.

There is free lunch served here and so there is always a sizeable crowd visiting this place every day from the nearby villages.

Our next stop was at the prison where Krishna was born. The jail is a small one and the altar where he was born is still preserved. This is the main and the biggest Krishna temple in that area.

On our way back, we were shown the ISKCON temple. The locals refer to it as the “Angrezo ka Mandir” and it has a large chunk of foriegn devotees.

We then went to the Govardhan hill. Mythology states that this hill was lifted by Krishna with one finger. The devotees walk around the base of the hill many number of times as part of a ritual.

Returning back to the central area of Mathura, we settle down for some puri-sabji, samosa, kachori and a earthern-jar-full of lassi. All this in front of an open drain. Surprisingly, I had never tasted such good food earlier. The lassi was divine. I think the enigma of Mathura reflected on its food as well.

After spending two days in Mathura, we set off to the much-awaited entrance to the Lord’s abode – Haridwar. More on that, in the second part.