"And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.” Haruki Murakami.
Suddenly it dawned on me, I am turning sixty and there is nothing I can do to set the clock back. Some say reaching a milestone, others opening a new chapter. Wisdom? Reflection? I am not sure. All I know is that I've been circulating the sun a few times or as the saying goes: "I've been around the block". I realize that as long as I can still detect a glimpse of that rebel little girl I used to be in the old me - I should make a move before it will all disappears. All I know is that I have this absolute yearning desire to explore, to do something wild - a change - a journey. And so, India - here I come.
India is unlike any other place in the world. A country full of contradictions, chaotic, rich in history, sensual and a feast for the senses. It is the largest country by population and the seventh largest country by land area. The largest religion in India, Hinduism is the oldest in the world. The mother of many inventions like algebra, the number zero, shampoo, chess and the value of pi. Oh, and not all Indians are vegetarians…
Delhi
It is exciting and nerve wracking in equal measurers - Delhi - I have arrived. A huge metropolitan which consists of two components: Old Delhi, the historical city, with narrow streets and historical monuments dating back to the 1600's. Hectic. Colorful. Cacophonous. It is where people, cows and rickshaws all share the road. And, then there is New Delhi - India's capital, which was designed by the British during colonial times. It is modern and orderly with wide avenues. I am completely overwhelmed by the massive crowds, the noise, the smell and the constant invasions of our personal space. To go with the flow and to be at peace with things happening on ‘Indian time’ would be our personal challenge. First day in Delhi, first lesson learned. In order to drive in India our driver/guide Mr Singh tells us "You need to maintain three things: good brakes, a good phone and good luck! As soon as he finishes his sentence, several cows take their afternoon nap in the middle of the freeway while drivers zooming from all directions try to maneuver their cars to not hit us. As I close my eyes in anticipation of the big boom of my death - my way of dealing with danger. I realize that while it is bad karma to hit a cow in India, human life seems much cheaper. When I finally open my eyes again I find myself in Delhi congested traffic with Mr Singh in total control of the car. Hallelujah!
Zipping through traffic on our rickshaw to Chandni Chowk (Moonlight Square), the air is thick, polluted and dense. The three century old historic bazaar is filled with steel pots and pans, fabrics, saris, silver jewelry, perfume shops and the largest whole sale spice market I've ever seen. It is massively crowded by people looking for a bargain, a non stop hustle - I can barely find my way around. Here, I am introduced to the smells of India - the spices with the distinct flavors of cardamon, clove, coriander, turmeric and cumin sneak into my clothes, rub against my hot skin and accompany me back to the hotel and into my dreams.
Taj Mahal
I stand here at the crack of dawn, waiting for the first light to emerge over one of the seven wonders of the world - the Taj Mahal. But instead, it is overcast and no spectacular sunrise as I have imagined it to be. Bit by bit the first rays penetrate through the clouds to illuminate this inspiring tale of love and human ingenuity. I slowly - take it - all - in. This magnificent mausoleum was built in 1632 by the grieving Emperor Shah Jahan in Agra, to immortalize his beloved wife Mumtaz Mahal. The poets at Agra’s Mughal court said her beauty was such that the moon hid its face in shame before her. The ivory-white marble mausoleum looks weightless, as if it is floating above the ground. Shah Jahan himself gazed upon that beautiful image until the end of his days—but as a prisoner, not a ruler. His son Aurangzeb seized the Mughal throne and imprisoned his father in Agra’s Red Fort (a World Heritage site). Whether as consolation or torture, Shah Jahan commanded a view of the Taj Mahal from his window.
Throughout our journey, I notice some people staring at me and wanting to take photos with me. I look around to see if it is really me they are pointing to. To my surprise they tell me they come from the countryside and I am the first white person they ever seen.
Rajasthan.
Rajasthan in the northwestern parts of India is the land of Maharajas and Moguls, of majestic forts and ancient palaces. It is said that there is more history in Rajasthan than all of India combined. Steeped in tales of chivalry and romance, full of music, color and camels I imagine myself being a royal in Maharaja-land and I pretend to behave like one - if only for a brief period of time.
Jaipur, the “Pink City, the capital of Rajasthan is a flamboyant city that never thinks twice before showing off its ancient attire and beautiful culture. We go sky high on an elephant ride to Jaipur's Amber fort. The grandiose fortress is perched on a hill near the Maota Lake. It consists of four courtyards, palaces, halls, and gardens made out of sandstone and marble. As we go up the stair-case to the second courtyard, I marvel over the fort's most exquisite part, the Diwan-e-Khas (Hall of Private Audiences) where the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan received courtiers and state guests. Its walls are covered in intricate mirror work, using glass imported from Belgium. Hence, it was also called Sheesh Mahal (the Palace of Mirrors). Although Jaipur is nicknamed the pink city, it isn’t really pink. The buildings are more of a peach/ orange color - beautiful nevertheless. Onward to The Hawa Mahal, famously known as the Palace of Winds. It resembles the honeycomb of a beehive with numerous windows. It was constructed primarily for the royal ladies to witness the daily scenes of the Johari Bazaar without being seen... To end the day we visit Jantar Mantar, a fascinating open-air astronomical observatory that helped people of the ancient era estimate the time and learn about celestial events. Built in the early 18th century, this UNESCO World Heritage Site is an expression of the astronomical skills and cosmological concepts of the court of a scholarly prince at the end of the Mughal period.
Rajasthan is home to some of the best- ranked wildlife sanctuaries in India. Our destination is Sawai Madhopur lodge. With over twelve acres of forest, the former hunting palace of the Maharaja of Rajasthan has a distinct feeling of an old British lodge and is an excellent starting point for our tiger safari adventure. It is freezing cold in the early morning hours of my sixtieth birthday. We are treated to a hot tea and a supply of heavy blankets to cover ourselves against the wind and cold. As our jeep heads deep into tiger country, the scenery is rocky and green. Tigers are bonus, our naturalist warns us - don't have high expectations - you might be lucky or you might not. The last few days have been a no show. I have a tingling sensation that we might be lucky - after all it is my birthday today. At first we see many types of deer, wild boar, monkeys and a myriad of birdlife - but no tigers. Then our driver takes off in another direction and all of a sudden we hear a tiger roaring in the distance. Immediately, we come around a bend and boom! A big male is walking across the dry river bed. How exciting! We watch him for about 30 seconds to a minute before he walks away into the underbrush and disappears. Tigers are solitary animals with the exception of mother and cubs. This is exactly what we experience a couple of hours later when we spot a mom and her three young cubs. A total of four tigers in our morning outing - not too shabby! For our afternoon safari, I am relaxed and without any more expectations, I had my trophies ALREADY. So it is even a bigger surprise to spot five more tigers. One of the tigers just lays there on the road ahead of us, completely ignoring us and minding its own business. Upon arrival back in the lodge, we are treated as royalty. It is not everyday that people spot nine tigers in one day. What a birthday present!
Mr Narayan Singh, or as he insists we call him Mr Singh, as a detachment from him and a sign of respect as he is being from a different caste than us, tries to explain to us the caste system. A phenomena that we are being exposed to throughout our journey and I still don't completely comprehend. Society is functioning by the old system of being born to a social caste. From the top, the Brahmins to the lower caste the Dalit (untouchables). Although technically abolished, in practical terms it still plays an important role in modern India society. You marry within your own caste, you don't cross from one caste to another and you accept your destiny and obey it.
Chatra Sagar
Chatra Sagar is a truly magical place with delightful luxurious state of the art tents. The road to get here is bumpy and it takes forever. It doesn't help much that I desperately need to go to the bathroom. Yes, you need to carry toilet paper in India.... and no, you don't want to use the public bathroom unless you really, really need to. Then... you must be willing to squat - which is something I find hard to adjust to. When we finally arrive, I run to the bathroom in our tent and I am taken back by the tent's stunning luxury. It is built for a maharaja stay with such details and perfection - I don't know how I deserve such an indulgence. Outside is the famous dam and the entire place is a lush green oasis. The dam was built by a powerful noble of the desert kingdom of Marwar. His vision was to create a large water reservoir to harvest the monsoon rains. Later in the day, we take a bird watching tour around the dam with the owner of the place, the grandson of the Maharaja who built this dam. I feel like I am going back in time to the British colonialism....oh and the food! Throughout our days in India we've been eating quite well but I have been waiting for this fantastic Indian cuisine I heard so much about. Well, here we get it. The rich flavor of the dishes, the display, the creativity - well done!
Happy Diwali from Udaipur, the White City. We arrive as the sun sets on Lake Pichola. While our boat glides through the calm waters, we witness the entire city illuminated in festive lights. The reflection of the City Palace, this monumental white marble complex of eleven palaces, courtyard and gardens and Jag Mandir palace on the lake are unforgettable. As soon as it gets dark and the stars slowly emerge, the celebration continues with grandeur and enthusiasm. Thousands of oil lamps are lit and the fireworks go KABOOM. This is a city of kings and it celebrates like royalty. We sip our glass of wine at the restaurant on the banks of the lake and watch the spectacular fireworks display.
Pushkar Camel fair. We decide to stop for chai, on a rooftop cafe, in this vegetarian Hindu, holy city overlooking the lake. Pushkar is surrounded by fifty two ghats where pilgrims descend to bathe in the sacred water. The place feels almost deserted and has a boho meets spiritual vibe. As Pushkar is known for it's famous Camel fair, we feel obliged to go on a camel safari to experience Rajasthan's desert culture and to step into the shoes of traders and nomads who once crossed these land. Alas, what was supposed to be a half hour slow ride ended up being an hour and a half of a semi sprint. Our fifteen year old guide, wanted to impress us and so, off we gallop into the desert with much bravura - Oyyy! He tells us, he has to work to take care of his mom and four sisters. Somehow, everybody we meet here has a similar story... Is this a bak-shish tactic or a real life story? I still can't sit on my butt from the bruises I got on this ride. I don't think I'll ever ride camels again,
Throughout our journey we encountered striking landscapes and fabulous palaces, side by side with a history of chauvinism from both Muslims and Hindus. I find myself moving from being enchanted by the beauty and creativity of the Mughals and the rage that seeps through me of how it feels to be a female in this society. I am happy I am not a part of this culture. It is true that women who come from affluent families can get education nowadays but most women in India have arranged marriages within their caste. Our driver, Mr Singh has three kids, two boys and one girl. According to him, his daughter is the smartest of the three. But when I ask him if she will achieve higher education, his response is "if her husband to be will approve".
The golden desert sun bounces off the blue washed houses in Jodhpur when we arrive in midday. There is dry warm air blowing mixed with dust and a sharp tang of cumin and spice. Dominating the skyline of Jodhpur is the majestic Mehrangarh Fort, an imposing citadel perched atop a rocky hilltop like a silent guardian. Built in the 15th century by Rao Jodha, the fort boasts impressive ramparts, intricately carved balconies and palatial courtyards. It offers a panoramic view of the city below where many buildings are painted the city’s iconic shade of blue. Standing on the rooftop of the Mehrangarh fort, I can see the desert stretch endlessly on one side and a sea of indigo houses the other side - its surreal.
From the window of our hotel, the houses spills outward like little dominos painted in so many shades of blue. I walk through the narrow alleys- cows amble past, people peek from their blue doors. At the heart of the old city stands the clock tower - sandstone relic from the 19th century - timeworn but still ticking. At the base of the tower is the Sardar market. Vendors call out, women haggle over spices and fabrics, cows standing idly by. Time feels both ancient and very alive at the same time. It is a chaotic motion mixed with the joy of color and rhythm.
Varanasi.
We are in Varanasi, the oldest inhabited place on the planet. Nighttime - Misty - Monkeys outside. Someone grabs our bags - we are rushed down on numerous steps to the Ganges river, placed in a boat and go upstream fifteen minutes to our hotel. There are lots of holy places called ghats with steps descending to the holy water. In this place where eighty million Gods live, there is smoke, heat and a strong smell of burned bodies. Spiritualism - mysticism - Sanskrit - yoga. Along the riverbank, terraces with burning ghats are famous for their cremation rituals. The Ganges runs 2,525 km from the northern Himalayas all the way to the Bay of Bengal. We are going up river to the heart of this wild and surreal place.
As dawn breaks over the Ganges, we sit down for breakfast on the rooftop of our hotel surrounded by columns and jumping monkeys eyeing our food. Looking down, I notice a body floating by right below us. Shaken, I pinch myself to see if I am still asleep. Those floating bodies of the poor, the untouchables, are sneaked into the Ganga in the cover of night by the families who can’t afford to pay for firewood for them to be cremated. Here, amidst the ancient ghats and timeless rituals, Hindus bring their deceased relatives from all over India, believing that if your body goes into the sacred Ganges, it will cleanse itself of sin and free itself from the cycle of reincarnation.
In the late afternoon, going towards the riverbank in our boat, we encounter huge crowds of women's bathing, celebrating and offering arghya (water) to the setting sun. An extravaganza of colorful costumes, music and singing is performed - it is so wild!. This is Chhath Puja the highly elaborate festival devoted to the Sun God Surya and his sister Chhathi Maiya who are believed to be the source of life, energy and healing on earth. Food wrapped in banana leaves or in bamboo baskets are brought to the water and loud fire crackers add to the symphony of sounds and colors as the last sun rays converge on the horizon.
When traveling the world, a few places sneak under your skin, grab ahold of your heart and take your breath away. India is one of those places. A country full of contradictions, chaotic, rich in history, sensual and a feast to the senses. It caught me by surprise and took me an an unexpected journey that changes something fundamental in my being. I say good bye to the colorful saris, the continuous ceremonies, the beautiful people. the holy cows and the holy poop. I part from the millions of gods, the parallel realities and the sight of endless stars in this overwhelming, surreal, exhilarating and unforgettable place called India.
Photography by Jason McBride and Irit Raz-McBride