My 25-day trip to India in early 2010 was the biggest adventure of my life thus far. I took hundreds of pictures; the best ones are here. I’m still amazed by how many things I didn’t get any shots of, but you can’t spend your whole time snapping photos, can you?
This chalkboard hangs in my apartment’s kitchen, and when karass-sister Kayan drew a map of India on it, telling me to add the cities I wanted to visit, suddenly the trip I’d wanted to take for years became real. Everything crystalized in that moment, and then there was no escaping it: I was headed to India. Soon. It happened like the chalk shows: I started in Mumbai, and then arced north and eastward across the country until I got to Kolkata. Then a flight back to Mumbai, and then, home. Total time in-country: 25 days.
This is my surrogate family in India, the folks who housed and fed me in Mumbai and were my go-to resource as I wended my way across the subcontinent. From left to right, that’s Tanay, Nipun, yrstruly, Urvashi, and little Ruhan. Urvashi and I met in San Diego when we were in junior high school. We’ve kept in touch all these years, and at long last, I saw her part of the world.
I did not get a shot of the high-rise my friends live in [it is astounding how many things I failed to photograph on this journey], but Urvashi’s folks live in this tower just a block away. The building was being repainted, so scaffolding had been set up all around it. Bamboo scaffolding. This blew my mind.
Bamboo seems to be used for scaffolding all over India. It’s lashed together with rope, just like we used to do in the Scouts.
See? Even when they’re building something brand new, it’s got bamboo around it.
But enough of scaffolding; you didn’t come to see pictures of scaffolding. This is a look down a street in Urvashi’s suburban-Mumbai neighborhood.
Wandering around part of Kandivali, a suburb north of Mumbai proper.
My first Sunday in India brought the annual Holi festival. Part of the tradition is “playing Holi” in the late morning by smearing everyone around you with colorful powder. (Elsewhere in India they toss colored liquids at you; Mumbai is suffering from drought conditions, so it was a “dry Holi” this year.) I was advised not to bring my camera for the Holi festivities, and that was good advice. But I got this pic taken of me when we got back.
This is the Gateway of India, completed by the Brits in 1924. It stands along the harbor in Mumbai. We weren’t allowed to walk through the gateway this day; there was restoration work of some sort going on.
Now, right outside of Mumbai there’s a national park where you find Kanheri Caves. This was one of the highlights of my trip. Come. Let’s go back in time.
Buddhist monks started carving the caves at Kanheri in the first century B.C…
… and they decorated their carved-out caves with more carvings.
The carving continued at Kanheri until the ninth century A.D.
The entrance to the tallest cave at Kanheri, just outside Mumbai.
Looking back toward Mumbai from Kanheri Caves. Looks a lot like parts of Southern California, really. (But SoCal was never this humid.)
Exploring Kanheri Caves, February 2010.
The guidebook sez this carving depicts wealthy donors to the monastic community at Kanheri. “This vihara has been brought to you by … “
Inside the tallest cave at Kanheri.
Me and one of the giant Buddhas at Kanheri.
Me with the other giant Buddha at Kanheri.
Inscriptions at Kanheri Caves.
Exporing Kanheri Caves, February 2010.
Again, looking back toward the city of Mumbai — you can just make out some of Kandivali’s residential towers on the horizon.
Inside a monk’s sleeping chamber at Kanheri Caves.
Tanay and I take a break in the afternoon heat at Kanheri Caves.
The monks carved out elaborate cisterns under their caves, and channels in the rock that carried (and still carry) rainwater into these underground vaults. There is a massive amount of very dark, very cold, very still water down this hole.
Nipun and Tanay with the suburbs of Mumbai on the horizon, Kanheri Caves, February 2010.
Exporing Kanheri Caves, February 2010.
Exporing Kanheri Caves, February 2010.
Exporing Kanheri Caves, February 2010.
Exporing Kanheri Caves, February 2010.
Exporing Kanheri Caves, February 2010.
Exporing Kanheri Caves, February 2010.
Exporing Kanheri Caves, February 2010.
Exporing Kanheri Caves, February 2010.
Exporing Kanheri Caves, February 2010.
Exporing Kanheri Caves, February 2010.
Tanay at Kanheri Caves, February 2010.
Exporing Kanheri Caves, February 2010.
Exporing Kanheri Caves, February 2010.
Exporing Kanheri Caves, February 2010.
Exporing Kanheri Caves, February 2010.
Okay, now we’re at the Borivali train station, in suburban Mumbai. This is the only time I took pictures of an Indian train station, which is a bummer.
On a platform at Borivali station, outside Mumbai.
That train pulling in is a commuter train. But trains to far-off places leave from this station as well. Did I get any pics of the trains I took? No. Interiors of the trains, where I ate, slept, and got to know some extremely friendly Indians? Nope. Didn’t even occur to me. Was living in the moment. Ahh.
I have arrived in Jodhpur. Here I’m looking “up” the “main drag” headed toward the town’s central marketplace and clocktower.
Near the marketplace, Jodhpur.
The clocktower at the marketplace, Jodhpur.
That three-wheeled vehicle — what I’m told is called a tuk-tuk in Thailand — is called an autorickshaw in India. You find them everywhere. In the bigger cities, autorickshaw drivers have been forced to convert to Compressed Natural Gas. Here in Jodhpur, the autorickshaws still pollute like hell.
The entrance to the main marketplace, Jodhpur.
At the main marketplace, Jodhpur.
High above the city looms Mehrangarh Fort. We’ll be visiting there next. This look at the fort is from the main marketplace in town.
Horses have it pretty rough in India, as far as I can tell.
The streets of Jodhpur are crammed with cars, small trucks, autorickshaws, horse-drawn carts, and at least one elephant. I came across the elephant on one of the smaller streets of the old part of the city. Its owner was tying a load to it, and gave me a look that I interpreted as “don’t you even think of taking a picture of my elephant,” but I may have been wrong.
Somebody had painted this puppy for Holi but neglected to wash him off.
I saw long-unfinished buildings (at least, that’s what I think they are) all across India. Something you don’t often see here in the States, I guess. Anyhow, the phenomenon struck me as strange.
Now we are headed to Mehrangarh Fort via autorickshaw.
On the road to Mehrangarh Fort, Jodhpur, March 2010.
On the road to Mehrangarh Fort, Jodhpur, March 2010.
On the road to Mehrangarh Fort, Jodhpur, March 2010.
Looking back down at the city of Jodhpur from the parking lot at Mehrangarh Fort, you start to see why it’s called the Blue City.
Jodhpur, as seen from a courtyard at Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
The construction of Mehrangarh Fort began in 1459. The rulers of Rajasthan lived here for centuries.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
This is one of the doors at the main gate of Mehrangarh Fort. The spikes built high into the door are designed to dissuade the elephants of invading armies from bashing the door down!
In 1843, Maharaja Man Singh died. Fifteen of his wives left their handprints on this wall of the fort before joining the Maharaja in death by adding themselves to his funeral pyre — a practice called sati.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
To the right of this shot is the Maharaja’s coronoation throne.
The coronation throne, Mehrangarh Fort.
The Maharaja’s seat for riding on an elephant!
A princely smoking chamber, Mehrangarh Fort.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Well, the Maharaja rode inside this, and four attendants carried it, and there’s a word for this sort of “vehicle,” but at the moment I can’t remember it at all. I want to say “samovar” but I know that’s wrong. First person to e-mail me the right word gets a free beer.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Jodhpur, as seen from Mehrangarh Fort.
Jodhpur, as seen from Mehrangarh Fort.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
A telephoto shot of the marketplace and clocktower, from Mehrangarh Fort.
Umaid Bhawan palace, as seen from Mehrangarh Fort. (We’re headed to Umaid Bhawan next.)
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
It’s a l-o-n-g way down from the top of Mehrangarh Fort!
Jodhpur, the amazing Blue City, as seen from Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
This is the Maharaja’s bedchamber.
Those spheres on the ceiling that look like Christmas tree ornaments? We were told the Maharaja visited the West during Christmastime, and fell in love with Christmas tree ornaments. So he had similar items hung from the ceiling of his bedchamber.
Again: Jodhpur, the amazing Blue City, as seen from Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
A cradle! Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Another cradle! Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Yet another view of Jodhpur, the Blue City, as seen from Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Exploring Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Leaving Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
A tiny altar to Ganesh, Mehrangarh Fort, March 2010.
Okay, here we are at the aforementioned Umaid Bhawan Palace, home of the current Maharaja of Rajasthan. Part of the palace is also a luxury hotel (which you can only visit if you have booked a stay there), and then there is this tiny little part of the palace that tourists can visit.
Construction of Umaid Bhawan started in 1929 and was completed in 1943.
Umaid Bhawan Palace, March 2010.
Umaid Bhawan Palace, March 2010.
Umaid Bhawan Palace, March 2010.
Jodhpur (not so blue from here!) as seen from Umaid Bhawan Palace.
Switching gears, we are now in Delhi. I took a daylong bus tour that visited the city’s main historical sites, and this was stop number one: the Red Fort, built by Emperor Shah Jahan in the 17th century. Shah Jahan established the old city of Delhi (calling it Shahjahanabad) and also built the Taj Mahal, but we’re getting way ahead of ourselves.
The moat at the Red Fort, Delhi.
Inside the grounds of the Red Fort, Delhi.
Inside the grounds of the Red Fort, Delhi.
Inside the grounds of the Red Fort, Delhi.
Inside the grounds of the Red Fort, Delhi. When you tour Indian historical sites, you notice that what western landscape architect types call “water features” are pretty much always dry.
Inside the grounds of the Red Fort, Delhi.
Inside the grounds of the Red Fort, Delhi.
Inside the grounds of the Red Fort. The city of Delhi bustles away outside.
Inside the grounds of the Red Fort, Delhi.
Some restoration work going on inside the grounds of the Red Fort, Delhi.
Inside the grounds of the Red Fort, Delhi. What looks like tilework here is actually inlaid semiprecious stones, like nearly all the decorative work at the Taj Mahal. But again, I’m getting ahead of myself.
Inside the grounds of the Red Fort, Delhi.
Wheelchair ramp, ahoy! (Perhaps the only one I saw in all of India.)
Inside the grounds of the Red Fort, Delhi.
Inside the grounds of the Red Fort, Delhi.
Inside the grounds of the Red Fort, Delhi.
Inside the grounds of the Red Fort, Delhi. Again with the empty fountains. Sigh.
Inside the grounds of the Red Fort, Delhi.
There’s a freakin’ water tower on the grounds, but no water in the fountains! Gah.
Inside the grounds of the Red Fort, Delhi.
Inside the grounds of the Red Fort, Delhi.
Inside the grounds of the Red Fort, Delhi.
Just across the street from the Red Fort in Delhi: in the foreground, a Muslim temple; behind, with the gold spire, a Jain temple.
Also just outside the Red Fort, Delhi: This is a sidewalk. There were sidewalks this bad all over Delhi, mainly due to the immense amount of construction going on in preparation for the 2010 Commonwealth Games, which arrive next October. But I saw sidewalks this bad in every Indian city I visited.
Raj Ghat is where they cremated Gandhi. Our tour guide told us in advance that the grounds are very beautiful and “very well-maintained.” Let’s see.
Approaching the sacred site at Raj Ghat, Delhi, March 2010.
This is where Gandi’s cremation took place. Raj Ghat, Delhi, March 2010.
At Raj Ghat, Delhi, March 2010.
Schoolchildren lined up at Raj Ghat, Delhi, March 2010.
“The Gandhi Talisman,” Raj Ghat, Delhi, March 2010.
At Raj Ghat, Delhi, March 2010.
At Raj Ghat, Delhi, March 2010. “Very well-maintained”?
A shot out my Delhi tour bus window of India Gate, completed by the Brits as a war memorial in 1931.
The next stop on bus tour of Delhi was Shri Lakshmi Narain Temple, built in 1938.
This was the only Hindu temple I visited during my time in India. Many (most?) are open only to Hindus, though as my friend Adam has blogged, there’s always some wiggle room (as with most things in India).
So I got to go inside this beautiful building, but I wasn’t allowed to take pictures. :(
What Shri Lakshmi Narain looks like from across the busy road. Pity I can’t take you inside with me.
The interior of the temple had numerous passages from the Bhagavad Gita inscribed (painted? now I cannot recall; maddening anti-photography rules!) on the walls in both Hindi and English. The ideas expressed were mostly about the nature of peace, and were extremely beautiful and comforting.
Next stop: Qutb Minar. This was the highlight of the Delhi tour.
There used to be an enormous mosque complex here. Construction began in 1193. The fifth and final level of the minaret was constructed in 1386. An even larger minaret was planned (right side of map shown here) but construction was abandoned very early on (as we will see shortly).
As we approached Qutb Minar, it was backlit by the sun, so many of my early shots didn’t come out right. Even with my hyperintelligent camera I can’t nail shots like these.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
The minaret at Qutb Minar, March 2010.
Minaret closeup, Qutb Minar, March 2010.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010. (This shot’s for you, Dan.)
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
Pieces/parts scattered in a corner of the grounds at Qutb Minar, March 2010.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
The unfinished (well, hardly-started) second minaret at Qutb Minar, March 2010.
Closeup of the unfinished second minaret at Qutb Minar.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
On the grounds of Qutb Minar, March 2010.
Qutb Minar eclipses the sun, March 6, 2010.
Right outside the gate at Qutb Minar, there was a mound of trash on fire. I had not yet been in India long enough to be completely unfazed by this. (In another couple of weeks, I’d be walking by trash fires without a second thought.) We don’t see trash on fire very often here in the States, do we?
The next Important Thing To See in Delhi: The Lotus Temple.
The Lotus Temple belongs to the Bahá’í. It is one of eight Houses of Worship they’ve built around the world so far. (We’ve got one in Wilmette, Illinois: You should visit if you ever get a chance. It’s splendid.)
The Lotus Temple is extremely sparse inside (where I was not allowed to take pictures, gah). It is also very cool, largely due to a natural air conditioning system. Aside from just being lovely to look at, these pools of water are a part of that a/c system.
The Lotus Temple, Delhi, March 2010.
Looking away from the Lotus Temple, Delhi, March 2010.
This is our last stop on our tour of Delhi’s historical sites. This is part of the complex known as Humayun’s Tomb. We’ll get to the tomb itself very shortly.
These two ladies scammed me in a way that happens all over the third world (I am told) and which will never happen to me again, because now I know how it works. One rushed over to me, and with pantomime and a bunch of very excited talk I couldn’t fathom, she made it clear that she wanted me to take a picture of herself and her companion. Like, right now. I could not figure out what the hell this was all about, but hey, I’m game, right? So I took this shot. And that’s when they made it clear that since I’d taken their picture, they were entitled to payment. Oh. Okay. I get it. Like I said, won’t happen again.
On the grounds of Humayun’s Tomb, March 2010.
On the grounds of Humayun’s Tomb, March 2010.
On the grounds of Humayun’s Tomb, March 2010.
On the grounds of Humayun’s Tomb, March 2010. The actual tomb is right through the gateway ahead; its stop is poking out right in the center of the shot.
This is Humayun’s Tomb. It served as an inspiration for the Taj Mahal, which is larger, grander, and much, much better-preserved (largely because the Taj is white marble, but I’m getting way ahead of myself).
Me at Humayun’s Tomb. This is one of those hold-the-camera-at-arm’s-length self-portraits; my new hyperintelligent camera has a special mode for this (which apparently does something a little oddball with the depth of field – doesn’t it look almost like I photoshopped myself in here?).
The graffiti at Humayun’s Tomb was heartbreaking.
Inside Humayun’s Tomb. There laith Humayun!
On the grounds of Humayun’s Tomb, March 2010.
On the grounds of Humayun’s Tomb, March 2010.
Okay, now a quick little diversion. This is what it looks like when you’re sitting in the back of an autorickshaw, speeding along toward your temporary home.
In Delhi, the autorickshaws all had digital meters and ran on CNG. Quite nice. (Everything’s relative.)
Other autorickshaws come very, very close to you as you whiz through traffic!
Okay, now I am traveling to Agra (home of the Taj) by car. I snapped this shot as we zoomed by.
On the road to Agra. Look at all that garbage back there! You see this sort of thing everywhere you go in India.
In Agra, I stayed at the Clarks Shiraz Hotel, and this was the view from my room. Taj ahoy!
Okay folks, time to visit the Taj Mahal. This is one of the entrance gates to the complex.
The pink structure behind me provided guest rooms for visitors to the Taj way back in the day …
… this is what the guest rooms look like. Hundreds of years back, curtains hung between the rooms.
Let’s get through that gate and see the damn thing, shall we?
The top of one of the entrance gates at the Taj.
Oh come on, Newton! Get your butt in there!
This, my friends, was my first view of the Taj in all its glory. Words cannot describe how emotional I felt at this moment. The Taj is bigger than you expect, whiter than you expect, and far, far more pristine-looking than you expect — as if they just finished the thing yesterday. It commands your attention and stirs your soul. I’ve never seen a human edifice to match it. I honestly believe that if you have the means, you owe it to yourself to go see this thing before you die. Seriously.
I was there on a weekend, so the crowds were pretty crazy. No matter. The majesty of this place was just overwhelming and un-ruinable.
My tour guide demanded that I play along here. I’m glad he was so insistent.
Me @ the Taj Mahal, March 7, 2010.
On the grounds of the Taj Mahal, March 2010. The building you see here is a mosque.
On the grounds of the Taj Mahal, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Taj Mahal, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Taj Mahal, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Taj Mahal, March 2010.
We are now up on the main platform around the tomb, and I have walked around to the back side, which faces the Yamuna river, a tributary of the Ganges.
On the grounds of the Taj Mahal, March 2010. (Yes, I like “eclipse” shots and should learn how to do better ones.)
Here’s what you’re walking on: 600+ year-old white marble. Yes, they make you wear plastic booties over your shoes.
On the grounds of the Taj Mahal, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Taj Mahal, March 2010.
This is the line waiting to get inside the tomb itself (where pictures are not allowed). It stretches all the way around the building.
On the grounds of the Taj Mahal, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Taj Mahal, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Taj Mahal, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Taj Mahal, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Taj Mahal, March 2010.
You can just see my booties here. See how the marble has been carved? And those decorations that look like they might be paint? No: Semi-precious stones, carved super-thin and glued into place. Stunning.
Closeup of carved white marble at the Taj Mahal.
On the grounds of the Taj Mahal, March 2010.
Dude was doing yoga on this tiny little islet in the middle of the Yamuna. Nice!
On the grounds of the Taj Mahal, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Taj Mahal, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Taj Mahal, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Taj Mahal, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Taj Mahal, March 2010.
Leaving the Taj Mahal, March 2010.
On the way out, my tour guide took me to see artisans who do the exact sort of semi-precious stonework that is in evidence all over the Taj …
… you get a nice demo here, and then you’re ferried inside a shop where you are more or less threatened with never seeing your homeland again if you don’t at least buy a USD$10 trinket with inlaid stonework. More or less.
And now we have arrived in Varanasi, the Hindu holy city along the Ganges. When T.S. Eliot wrote of an “unreal city” (one of my favorite phrases), I think this is the sort of place he had in mind. As you, the naive westerner, wander around, you just cannot believe this place is real — it is just too unlike any other place you’ve ever been.
Varanasi is a beautiful place, but like any beautiful place I discovered in India, you don’t have to look hard to find filth and squalor. There were some absolutely wretched slums just outside the gates of my guest house, and about two blocks away was this vacant lot filled with trash and this muddy puddle (cesspool? perhaps) that two cows were using to beat the heat. We are definitely not in Kansas anymore.
Let’s take a walk along the Ganges, shall we?
The river is lined with ghats — stairways down to the water. You can walk along the ghats for the entire length of the city (roughly seven kilometers, I was told; I didn’t walk quite that far).
The Jain Ghat includes a Jain Temple, complete with its customary gold top.
Walking along the Ganges, Varanasi, March 2010.
I did not take NEARLY enough pictures of Indian signage, which is almost always fascinating (and a bit funny).
There was a lot of very interesting, artful graffiti in Varanasi. I never did find out what any of it was for.
Walking along the Ganges, Varanasi, March 2010.
A makeshift religious class of some sort. (The guru was speaking in another language, probably Hindi.)
Lots of laundry gets done along the riverside. Lots of bathing, too. And of course, there are sewers emptying into the river, too. The river is part of everything in Varanasi. Life revolves around the river.
And here we have one of the three burning ghats, where dead bodies are burned and their ashes are pushed into the river. They burn bodies all day long, as far as I could tell.
Walking along the Ganges, Varanasi, March 2010.
Walking along the Ganges, Varanasi, March 2010.
Sometimes buildings fall down. Fallen buildings beget hyper-local garbage dumps.
Walking along the Ganges, Varanasi, March 2010.
Walking along the Ganges, Varanasi, March 2010.
Firewood stacked up high at another of the burning ghats, Varanasi, March 2010.
Walking along the Ganges, Varanasi, March 2010.
Walking along the Ganges, Varanasi, March 2010.
Walking along the Ganges, Varanasi, March 2010.
Walking along the Ganges, Varanasi, March 2010.
Back near my guest house, some goats have found a roadside lunch.
In the Muslim part of town, there’s a room like this in most of the houses, and more than 20,000 people spend their days crafting the most beautiful fabrics (mostly silk) you’ve ever seen on looms just like this one.
The only shot I got of the Muslim part of town, up away from the river.
So the university student who was showing me around Varanasi after dark brought me here, saying, “Look! Very famous sitar maker! This room is his shop and factory!” So I poked my head in here, and sure enough, dude’s crafting a sitar. I asked if I could take his picture. He gave me a very stern look. “You take my picture once, it costs 200 rupees!” Then he broke into a grin. “You take my picture twice, it costs you nothing at all!” So this is picture number one …
… and this is picture number two. Cuz two pictures, that’s free!
Wandering down an alley in Varanasi after dark.
This was some sort of bizarre after-dark parade. These guys were making an enormous racket with drums, and they had these extremely bright, tall lights-on-sticks. I never did figure out who they were or what they were celebrating.
Being a traffic cop in Varanasi has got to be one of the world’s most thankless, ineffective jobs.
You get used to seeing people draw water from roadside hand-pump wells as you make your way across India.
You also become oddly inured to the trash after a while.
This, believe it or not, is a traffic jam in Varanasi. See where the autorickshaw is headed? And the guy in the blue shirt? That’s a street through there. This shot is taken from another autorickshaw; we’re basically trying to follow the blue shirt. Nobody is going anywhere, really. It’s just unreal.
Wandering around Varanasi, away from the river.
Looking down a Varanasi back alley.
The Ganges, or, as the locals call it, Mama Ganga.
These dogs had found a place to snag some shade.
This is the view from the porch outside my room in Varanasi.
Another view from my guest house’s porch in Varanasi.
Looking down into the courtyard behind my guest house in Varanasi.
Sunset in Varanasi. Very very orange-red, due to the pollution.
The next day, I took a ride on the Ganges at sundown. That’s the boat, our guide, and a lovely Norwegian girl who was along for the ride.
Some folks were finishing up a day’s fishing as we set out on the Ganges, headed for the main ghat, where there is a sacred Hindu ceremony performed each night after sundown.
Varanasi, as seen from the Ganges, March 2010.
Varanasi, as seen from the Ganges, March 2010.
Varanasi, as seen from the Ganges, March 2010.
Varanasi, as seen from the Ganges, March 2010.
That tower is part of the waterworks that the Brits built here. It’s still in use, pulling water up out of the river and sending it out into the city.
Me on the Ganges, March 2010.
The waterworks at Varanasi, March 2010.
Varanasi, as seen from the Ganges, March 2010.
The Jain Ghat, as seen from the Ganges. The swastika is a sacred symbol to the Jains (and others). (The Nazi swastika, by the way, points the other way.)
Varanasi, as seen from the Ganges, March 2010.
The sun’s going down; the lights of the city are coming on.
Part of the scene as we are rowed down the Ganges at sundown.
Varanasi, as seen from the Ganges, March 2010.
Varanasi, as seen from the Ganges, March 2010.
Varanasi, as seen from the Ganges, March 2010.
What are those bright things floating in the water?
They’re little candle-like things on big leaves. You light ‘em on fire and set ‘em afloat with a wish. Or at least that’s what tourists are told to do.
This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.
Fiery wishes floating down Mama Ganga, Varanasi, March 2010.
More candles being set afloat.
Varanasi as the sun sets.
It’s growing quite dark; time to get to the main ghat!
Approaching the main ghat at Varanasi after sundown.
Approaching the main ghat at Varanasi after sundown.
Approaching the main ghat at Varanasi after sundown.
Approaching the main ghat at Varanasi after sundown.
Approaching the main ghat at Varanasi after sundown.
Approaching the main ghat at Varanasi after sundown.
Approaching the main ghat at Varanasi after sundown.
Approaching the main ghat at Varanasi after sundown.
Approaching the main ghat at Varanasi after sundown.
Approaching the main ghat at Varanasi after sundown.
Approaching the main ghat at Varanasi after sundown.
Approaching the main ghat at Varanasi after sundown.
Approaching the main ghat at Varanasi after sundown.
Approaching the main ghat at Varanasi after sundown.
Approaching the main ghat at Varanasi after sundown.
We’ve arrived at the main ghat. There are dozens of boats all tied together here, and our boat becomes part of a sort of floating grandstand. Small kids leap from boat to boat, selling incense, flowers, and the like.
Up on the “stage,” five brahmins begin the ceremony.
The sound is cacophonous: a mix of drums, cymbals, gongs, chanting, and goodness knows what all else.
This little guy was selling more of those floating candles.
All us visitors want a good shot of what’s going on. This despite the fact that none of us understand anything about what’s going on.
Here’s a better shot of the guys running the show. See those guys with orange shirts and raised arms? They’re the ones doing fancy stuff with drums, incense, and so forth.
Looking straight downriver at the rest of the assembled crowd.
Now they’re playing with fire!
We stayed for roughly half the ceremony, by which time everyone in the boat (including our guides) was good and bored. So our man here rowed us back to our guest house. He told us he was a twelfth-generation Varanasi boatman. Twelfth generation!
About a half hour away from Varanasi by autorickshaw is one of four places on the planet that are holy to Buddhists. This is Sarnath. Here lie the ruins of several monasteries built at this spot over the centuries. Built at this spot because this, folks, was where the Buddha himself gave his first dharma talk. In a very real way, you can say that Buddhism started here.
The ruins at Sarnath, March 2010.
The ruins at Sarnath, March 2010.
Monks at the ruins at Sarnath, March 2010.
Monks at the ruins at Sarnath, March 2010.
The Dhamek Stupa is the big deal here at Sarnath. In the Buddha’s time there was only a deer park here, but by 500 C.E., the stupa already stood tall to mark this sacred spot.
The Dhamek Stupa, Sarnath, March 2010.
The Dhamek Stupa, Sarnath, March 2010.
The Dhamek Stupa, Sarnath, March 2010.
The Dhamek Stupa, Sarnath, March 2010.
Dried wax from countless candles at the Dhamek Stupa.
The Dhamek Stupa, close up.
The Dhamek Stupa, a bit less close up.
The Dhamek Stupa, still pretty close up.
The Dhamek Stupa, Sarnath, March 2010.
Pilgrims at the Dhamek Stupa, Sarnath, March 2010.
The Dhamek Stupa, Sarnath, March 2010.
The Dhamek Stupa, Sarnath, March 2010.
The Dhamek Stupa, Sarnath, March 2010.
The Dhamek Stupa, Sarnath, March 2010.
The Dhamek Stupa, Sarnath, March 2010.
Exploring the ruins at Sarnath, March 2010.
Exploring the ruins at Sarnath, March 2010.
Exploring the ruins at Sarnath, March 2010.
Exploring the ruins at Sarnath, March 2010.
Exploring the ruins at Sarnath, March 2010.
Exploring the ruins at Sarnath, March 2010.
Also at the ruins at Sarnath: This is all that remains of the Dharmarajika Stupa. It was even older than the Dhamek Stupa, and survived until the 18th century, when – are you ready for this? – it was taken apart so its bricks could be taken to Varanasi and used as building materials. (Imagine me sighing deeply.)
Just next door to the ruins at Sarnath was a tiny pay-to-get-in deer park. I did not visit but I did say hello to the deer through the chain-link fence.
On my way out of Sarnath, we came upon a crew repaving the road. This was the only time I saw a road being paved or repaved while I was in India. I was kind of blown away by this sight, so I took a picture. And then, my autorickshaw driver gunned the engine and tore us right through this fresh pavement, ruining it. He laughed devilishly as the road workers shouted and waved their fists. We made our way back to Varanasi.
This is the main drag through Bodh Gaya, the smallest town I visited, and the home of another Buddhist holy site. We’ll get to that in a moment. For now, just know that this is a tiny little town, full of pilgrims (mostly from Southeast Asia – at least while I was in town), dotted with temples.
At one edge of town is the Great Buddha Statue. This is a modern wonder, more than 80 feet high, completed in 1989 and consecrated by His Holiness the Dalai Lama.
The Great Buddha Statue, Bodh Gaya, March 2010. (It’s a real pity, those high tension power lines.)
The Great Buddha Statue, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
Various Buddhist (or Buddhist-leaning) countries have established temples in Bodh Gaya. And of course the Tibetans have a temple; this is it. Visitors are allowed to visit the various temples you find around town, but for the most part you’re not allowed to enter. You’re allowed to peek inside and that’s about it.
A look inside the Tibetan temple. (Again: We could look inside but not go inside.)
A statue of the Buddha near the Thai temple in Bodh Gaya.
The Thai temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
Looking inside the Thai temple.
As good a shot as I could get of the Buddha statue in the Thai temple.
On the main road through Bodh Gaya, this barber cut hair and provided shaves all day long under the shade of a tree. I saw this setup repeated everywhere I went in India – both in big cities and small towns. All you need to be a barber in India, apparently, is a pair of scissors, a chair, and a mirror!
This Buddha statue belongs to the Bangladeshi temple in Bodh Gaya, and was more or less across the street from my “hotel.” I liked the way they lit him up at night.
Now this, this, folks, is why we go to Bodh Gaya. This is the Mahabodhi Temple. This is another of the four sites that are sacred to Buddhists. It was here that the Buddha became englightened while meditating under the Bodhi Tree. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
On the grounds of the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
The Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
This, my friends, is Sri Maha Bodhi, the Bodhi Tree (literally the “Tree of Awakening”). This is the tree that the Buddha sat under until he became englightened.
Well, okay, it’s not the exact tree the Buddha sat under. Or is it? Even during the Buddha’s life, this became a sacred place, and the tree became an object of veneration. King Ashoka, who ruled the area in the third century B.C., provided for the tree’s good care, and held a yearly festival here. But then …
… King Ashoka’s wife became jealous of the King’s devotion to the Bodhi Tree, and she poisoned it! Luckily, a cutting from the Bodhi Tree had already been taken by Buddhist monks to Sri Lanka, where it flourished. A cutting from this Son/Daughter-of-the-Bodhi-Tree was brought to Bodh Gaya and planted at the site of the original tree. It is this second tree, well over two thousand years old, that we visit. It is this second tree that kindly dropped one of its leaves for me on my third visit to the Mahabodhi Temple, giving me a keepsake I will always treasure.
I have no words to describe the emotions I felt as I sat and meditated just a couple dozen paces away from the Bodhi Tree. I cannot even describe what I feel when I look at this picture (but oh, what a wondrous feeling). All I can find words to express is my endless gratitude for having had the privilege of visiting this place. It was the most deeply spiritual experience of my life.
Meditators at the Bodhi Tree. You can tell it’s the 21st century – see the YouTube t-shirt?
See the green metal post that looks like a lamppost? It’s not, as you’ll see in a moment.
Looking skyward through the Bodhi Tree. Take deep, deliberate breaths. Feel the passing of the ages.
Numerous metal posts support the heaviest branches of the Bodhi Tree.
This grassy spot is where I sat and meditated each time I visited the Bodhi Tree.
Looking toward the Bodhi Tree from my meditation spot. This was what I saw as I sat zazen. Tibetans had strung prayer flags everywhere this day. They were gone the next day.
The Bodhi Tree and the Mahabodhi Temple as seen from my meditation spot, March 2010. I give the universe boundless thanks for helping me make my way here. May All Beings Be Happy.
The Bodhi Tree and the Mahabodhi Temple as seen from my meditation spot, March 2010.
Pilgrims near the Bodhi Tree, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
Yrstruly, just after one hell of a good sit, feeling quite blissful, on the grounds of the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
Nearby, and still on the grounds of the temple, is Mucalinda Lake. The statue commemmorates a lovely event from Buddhist legend. Supposedly, the Buddha stuck around these parts after his enlightenment. One day as he meditated, the skies opened up and rain poured down in sheets. The Buddha continued sitting, and animals came to sit by him. A large cobra reared up to cover the Buddha and protect him from the rain. I love this story.
The sign at Mucalinda Lake. (Typical of signs at historic sites in India, with its poor English and generally decaying state.)
Mucalinda Lake, on the grounds of the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
The Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
Pilgrims at the Bodhi Tree, on the grounds of the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
What’s inside the Mahabodhi Temple? A tiny passageway, and at the end, a Buddha behind glass. Altogether unimpressive. The real show, it seems, is outside.
The Buddha inside the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, 2010.
On the grounds of the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
On the grounds of the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
A lone monk in deep meditation at the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
The scene outside the Mahabodhi Temple. It’s a bazaar of sorts. Many of the goods are touristy schlock. And then there are some real oddballs, like the cart selling radio-controlled toys. Really? Here? Strange.
Outside the Mahabodhi Temple, Bodh Gaya, March 2010.
Outside the Mahabodhi Temple. I love dude’s purplish, plaid pants. Totally want a pair.
It’s a shame this lovely sculpture outside the Mahabodhi Temple was plastered with flyers.
Last stop folks! We are now in Kolkata. That’s the modern name for this city, anyway – but most everyone there and throughout India still call it Calcutta. By the time I arrived here, I had been moving according to a pretty aggressive schedule for more than three weeks. I was exhausted and did not see nearly enough of this city. But one thing was obvious from the get-go: the Calcutta of 2010 is a very dirty, very crowded place, with a deeply Indian form of urban decay on display pretty much everywhere you look.
This is a random shot of a mostly-residential street about a mile from the heart of Calcutta. I was very, very lost this particular afternoon.
“Dranken Driving Is Crime” – spotted along the Maidan (that’s Calcutta’s version of Central Park).
Apparently if you explore this town properly (which I certainly did not have the time or energy to do, alas) you see a lot of buildings leftover from the years when Calcutta was the capital of the British Raj. I didn’t see too many of those, but this seemed like a contender. It’s on Park Street – the main drag for high-class shopping in Calcutta.
More Calcuttan urban decay. Ask me about the smell of this city sometime. Actually, wait. Don’t do that. I don’t want to remember.
Bollywood posters run amok, Calcutta, March 2010.
Oh, this was amazing. I was in India for nearly a month, and this is the ONLY time I saw something that we in the West would identify immediately as a street sign. It was about two blocks from my hotel, standing there on the street corner, like a good street sign should. I blinked in amazement. Indians just don’t do street signs, as far as I can tell. I’d learned how to navigate without them. And here, in yet another Indian city without street signs, here was this one lonely street sign. Baffling. Wonderful. Bizarre.
Blooming Dales! (Indians blatently copy western brand names but often don’t get it quite right.)
Here’s a part of the Maidan (pronounced “moy-dann”), the big park in the middle of town. It’s mostly gross, sadly.
Another part of the Maidan, Calcutta, March 2010.
The Maidan, Calcutta, March 2010. All over India, you see trees painted this way. I have no idea why, and not for lack of asking people. Several times, I was told, “Because it’s tradition!” Which of course just raises (not “begs”) the next question: “Yes, but why?” Never got an answer to that.
This is the Victoria Memorial. The Brits spend 15 years building it, finishing up in 1921. My Lonely Planet guide described it as one-half Taj Mahal, one-half Capitol Building in Washington, D.C. I think that’s a pretty apt description, actually.
The Victoria Memorial is a museum of Indian art and history these days, and you can’t take photos inside. But you can wander the grounds (mostly well-kept) and snap as many shots as you like.
The Victoria Memorial, Calcutta, March 2010.
There she is! Hi, Victoria.
Queen Victoria at her Memorial in Calcutta. She seems rather large and surly here. There’s a far more flattering statue of her inside the Memorial, but of course I wasn’t allowed to photograph it.
The Victoria Memorial, Calcutta, March 2010.
The Victoria Memorial, Calcutta, March 2010.
The Victoria Memorial, Calcutta, March 2010.
The Victoria Memorial, Calcutta, March 2010.
The Victoria Memorial, Calcutta, March 2010. (Last picture, folks! Wow, did you really stay for the whole show?)
