Bikaner - A Tale of Two Temples

On our way back to Delhi we stopped at the town of Bikaner, famous for it's 'rat temple'. This bizarre Hindu temple is filled with thousands of rats who are fed by worshipers and temple attendants. There are various stories about why the rats are fed and all are excellent. My favorite is that the rats are the souls of storytellers, kept alive by the worshipers of Karni Mater to deny them to another god. Inter-deity spite again!

Mary wasn't keen on the idea of entering the temple, particularly as you must first remove your shoes. She decided to replace her flip-flops with a pair of my thick hiking socks. I suggested this might attract the rats by making her feet resemble two large cuddly rodents, with beige Smartwool coats. She couldn't be dissuaded however and so we padded around the filthy temple in our socks, rats scampering hither and thither.

We were fortunate to see a white rat, which is considered very lucky. Mary was doubly blessed when a rat scampered across her foot - most auspicious - although neither Mary nor the rat thought so at the time.

We stopped at another astonishing temple which we spotted as we left Bikaner. This was more Disney than Hammer Horror. Enormous colourful statues of various Hindu gods guarded a replica of a famous temple elsewhere in India. The replica included a concrete copy of the hillside the original stands on. It's a bit like Epcot Park for Hindus.

Hinduism seems amazingly flexible in the way people can worship. Perhaps because it's such an integral part of everyday life, there is no preciousness about how people practice their faith. This kind of imagination, flexibility and participation seems to be something western Christianity craves, but is culturally unable to achieve. Not the rat part specifically, of course.

Mary and our excellent driver Mr Singh. Oh, and a whole bunch of rats.

It's good to be a rat at the rat temple. A statue of the goddess Karni Mater is in the alcove behind.

Is Ganesh related to Mickey Mouse? Is Walt really Mickey's father, or might it be Shiva?

Mary, Ganesh and big 'ol tiger.

Jodhpur, The Blue City

After the slight disappointment of the Pink City that was orange, we were pleased to find that Jodhpur, or at least the old town, was in indeed blue. A great town, our favorite in Rajasthan, Johdpur is overlooked and dominated by the massive fort Mehrangarh. The fort is a monster, built to follow the line of cliffs around a huge rocky hill that overlooks the city. The walls follow the cliff contours so perfectly that it seems to grow upwards from the rock itself, of which it is built. This was the way that the Rajputs built their formidable forts and to good effect - Mehrangarh was never successfully stormed.

The Blue City beneath Mehrangarh's walls.

The royal palaces of Mehrangarh were the residence of the Maharaja of Marwar (Land of Death) as the area was known in Mughal times.

The hand prints on the wall were made by women of the royal household passing through the fort gates for the last time after a battle. They were on their way to perform Sati, by sitting silent and motionless on their husband's funeral pyre.

Pushkar, Rajasthan

Pushkar is a refreshingly small, sleepy little town in the middle of the Rajasthan desert, built around a pretty lake and surrounded by mountains. It was good to get away from the hassle and traffic of the big cities so we decided to stay for a couple of days.

The coming hot season meant there were few tourists. The only westerners were the garrison of neo-hippies who had found their way to Pushkar and never left. In a perfect encapsulation of the NH scene, we saw one dread locked individual cycle past us (it looked like a girl, but it's hard to tell from the back with NHs) with a teeshirt so torn that it was more holes than fabric. And she/he was cycling, you guessed it, a unicycle! Perfect.

Inevitably this means that Pushkar is replete with Reiki massage and Ayurvedic medicine shops. After three weeks in India, I'm left wondering how such rarefied disciplines as these can have evolved in the absence of much more basic concerns. Like fiber in the Indian diet for instance. How can you discover how to massage someones aura before you figure out that there is a healthy alternative to white rice and white bread? In *my* hierarchy of physical needs, dietary fiber comes way before my aura.

As you might have guessed, fiber is a big concern for us at the moment. We hope for an improvement very soon.

Hindu guru or accomplished neo-hippy? In this case a Hindu guru at the Brahma temple in Pushkar.

Offerings to Brahma, and a statue of the god in the alcove behind. Brahma temples are rare in India, despite him being the root of all other Hindu gods (at least in my basic understanding). This has something to do with his first wife restricting his worshipers to Pushkar Lake after he married a second time here. Hinduism seems full of tales of gods spiting each other. I guess it's inevitable when there's more than one boss. Monotheism seems very dull by comparison.

Pushkar's population is swelled considerably by our close cousins, who seem to inhabit all the best lakeside accommodation.

Jaipur, the Pink City

Jaipur is the capital of Rahasthan, the famous desert state which is home to Maharajas, princesses and Rajputs. The Rajputs were a feared warrior caste who would fight to the death rather than surrender. If they knew the battle meant certain death in advance, they would take the considerate step of burning their women before the battle, so that they didn't have to perform 'Sati' - self immolation by jumping on their husbands funeral pyre.

Jaipur is know as the Pink City, since the buildings of the old town are all painted pink. This was a tradition begun to welcome the Prince of Wales (or rather *a* Prince of Wales) in the 19th century and continued ever since. Mary are I thought the old city was decidedly orange rather than pink. Perhaps they ran out of the requisite colour of emulsion, or perhaps the Rajputs decided that pink wasn't in keeping with their death-before-dishonour image? After all, there's very little pink in heraldry. Whoever heard of the Pink Knight or the Dread Pirate Pinkbeard?

A model poses for a photo shoot at the magnificant Amber Fort.

Bloke on an elephant (I think the technical term is mahoot - for the bloke I mean).

Don't get out your old school recorder, linen basket, King Cobra and try this at home.

Agra and Fatehpur Sikri

We're back in the plains of Northern India. The pleasant cool weather of the mountains has been replaced by the advancing hot season and temperatures are pushing 40C in the middle of the day. In a few weeks they will be around 50C, but thankfully we'll be gone by then.

Agra was once the capital of the Mughal empire. The Great Mughals ruled northern India for around 200 years until the British arrived. They were a flamboyant bunch and are responsible for many, if not most, of India's most notable and beautiful buildings. Agra is home to several, including the Taj Mahal, widely claimed as one of the Seven Wonders of the World. We hope to see another 3 before this trip is done, depending on how you define the seven.

The Taj is the work of our ubiquitous friend Shah Jahan, the fifth of the six Great Mughal emperors. SJ was a prodigious builder, even by Mughal standards. His body lies in the Taj beside his wife Mumtaz and his tomb is the only part of the Taj which is not symmetrical - rumored to be because he planned his own mausoleum as a black marble replica of the Taj on the other side of the river. But it's probably a myth. He died imprisoned by his son, his quarters overlooking his monument to Mumtaz.

Fatehpur Sikri is even more impressive in many ways. It is the remains of a new Mughal capital built by SJ's grandfather Akbar, but abandoned after only a short time. All that remains of this "ghost city" are the palace and mosque, but both are stunning. The structures are constructed and carved as if made of wood, but are chiseled from local sandstone. The weight of the beams is all that keeps them in place.

The Mughals were a particularly artistic bunch and a very tolerant Islamic empire, which actively supported and encouraged other religions. Their example has been much studied in India, given the current tensions here between different religious groups.

Sunrise at the Taj. The angled minarettes are not a trick of the photograph. Shah Jahan built them leaning slightly outwards so that if they collapsed in an earthquake they would fall away from the Taj.

And again at sunset. The white marble changes colour throughout the day and if you look closely, so does Mary.

The palace at Fatehpur Sikri. The stone looks like carved wood and the beams, lintels and constructions are essentially the same as those made by English Tudor carpenters.

Indians are generally very happy to be photographed! Particularly when you can instantly show them the digital results.

Shalimar Express

The overnight Shalimar Express took us from the cool and breezy mountains back to the sultry plains and Dehli. We travelled in "2 AC" - second class air conditioned - which wasn't luxurious but allowed a good nights sleep and the chance to chat with our fellow Indian passengers.

The train was 90 minutes late arriving and I filled the time at Pathankot station expanding my collection of photographs of Indian signage. How sad am I! Indian Railways is the heavyweight champ of signage in a country which produces so many corkers. It's also the world's largest employer, with over 1.5 million people in it's service. We chatted to a doctor employed in the medical division, which seems to form an entirely parallel national heath care system, just for railway employees. From the evidence of this sign, Indian Railways also ranks as the world's most bureaucratic organisation.

This is my reigning champion of Indian signage. The small print is well worth a read, if you can bear it.

Pathankot station cafe didn't get high ratings for ambiance or service. Note the coveted position given to the complaints book, the sign for which has been painstakingly, nay lovingly, etched into the marble.

McLeod Ganj, Himayal Pradesh

McLeod Ganj is a strange mix of people. The refuge of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan Government in exile, there is a split in population between Indians and Tibetan refugees. There are also a lot of westerners which we were not used to after Kashmir. The westerners seemed to be roughly split too, between dreadlocked neo-hippies and middle aged travellers (I fear we are closer to the later than the former, but perhaps not that fearful). Presumably both groups are seeking spiritual enlightenment here.

A cookery course with our terrific instructor Tashi. We cooked Tibetan soups and practiced our Momos. Tashi fled Tibet over 10 years ago, fleeing though the Himalaya into Nepal on foot, trekking for a month in the Everest region. He did this in winter, when the Chinese border guards are reduced, un unbelivable feat. He is a wonderfully upbeat guy considering all he has had to endure. His family are still in Tibet.

A Tibetan monk practices rhetoric (I think). Each point is made with a forceful, martial arts like gesture.

Gulmarg, Kashmir

A day trip to Gulmarg in the Pir Panjal mountain range turned into a real highlight. Gulmarg boasts the world's highest gondola, rising to 13,500 feet (4400m). Although it was late in the season, there were still a few days skiing left and I managed to sneak in a couple of runs. Just when I thought I'd skied the last run of the season! The skiing was way better than I imagined - a decent of 1100m into 2 open bowls above the timberline. The snow at the top was surprisingly good, preserved by the altitude.

My guide Tahir and I were the only ones on the mountain! Indian's don't ski much it seems, instead amusing themselves by taking sleigh rides around the Gondola mid station. There were some skis and poles available, but these were used only as props in photographs. People would stand in their Wellington boots above a pair of angled skis for that perfect holiday snap. In reminded me of those painted scenes you see at English seaside resorts, with holes cut out to stick your face through.

3500 feet of India vertical await! said the actress to the Maharaja. I hope the day-glo boots distract you from the mincing pose.

You don't see one of these at every ski resort! The Indian Army is everywhere in Kashmir, every village, every road and even every ski slope. The Pakistan border is not far from Gulmarg.

Hiking Kashmir

After 2 days on our houseboat we headed up into the Himalaya to the east of Srinagar to do some hiking. We stayed with a family in a small gypsy village close to Sonamarg. These people describe themselves as 'gypsy people' or 'pony people' and I suspect belong to the 'scheduled castes' as they are now described in India - what used to be called 'untouchables'.

The gypsy people lack almost all basic infrastructure. There is no sewage system, no garbage collection and no running water apart from the local river. They have electricity but with several long outages each day and then only for lighting - they have no refrigeration. Most importantly they don't have easy access to health care which is expensive and many miles away in Srinagar. We patched up a procession of family members with cuts, scrapes and grazes using our little medical kit. We were the first western visitors of the season as the snow has cleared in only the last few weeks.

The family were wonderfully welcoming and we left after 3 days feeling almost a part of it. They took us hiking each day, sometimes with their ponies, and once above the timberline at 11k feet as we scrambled up a local mountain with amazing views - all the way to K2 on a clear day. Hopefully this will help with our acclimatisation for Nepal. We'd love to come back in the summertime when the snows have cleared for a longer trek.

Our cook and guide was Shafi, who travelled with us from Srinagar. Shafi is an interesting character who can speak at least 6 different languages (we were still counting when we left) and sings each language too. Nights were filled with playing cards and listening to songs in Fârsi and Kashmiri. Each song told a story, typically a cautionary Muslim fable which he would tell us we would do well to heed.

Shafi also claimed to have seen several Jinn, and also to know some personally. I had read an article about Jinn last year, but it is a very different experience to be told about them first hand, by candlelight in a remote Kashmiri village.

Our Mum for 2 days and the lady of our gypsy house.

Little Rhuma charmed "bishkits", hairclips and various girly products from Mary every day

Mary, Shafi, Rhuma and determined little chap with stick.

Srinagar, Kashmir

A change of plans has brought us to Kashmir and the town of Srinagar on Dal lake. We're staying on one of 1000 houseboats, built by the Brits because the local Maharaja wouldn't sell them any land. An ingenious and bloody-minded solution, as one might expect.

Srinagar is a pretty amazing place. Dal lake is full of floating houses, gardens and people going about their daily lives. The lake is surrounded by enormous mountains and our first encounter with the Himalaya to the east. The architecture, people and culture are very different from the Hindu plains. Here Islam is the majority and the buildings look almost Swiss-like - built to withstand winters snows.

We have arrived in the middle of celebrations for Mohammad's birthday. Many thousands of people from all over Kashmir are here to pray at a mosque which contains a hair from the Prophet. Five times every day the amplified sounds of Imams from all over the lake drift across the water to our houseboat.

Local kids always want to practice their amazingly good English

The school run, Kashmiri style

Delhi at Night

Delhi calms down a little at night. The traffic is less - enough for the ceaseless daytime honking of horns to stop. Stray dogs now take up the baton, waking up from shady street corners where they sleep during the day. Their chorus of barking is reassuring for the insomniac backpacker who might otherwise worry that some kind of calamity had silenced the city streets. Such calamities might include: rampaging gangs of canine control officers; a pandemic of traffic discipline that didn't rely on the horn as the primary safety strategy; or the sudden and dastardly introduction of double glazing to our hotel.

Nighttime traffic still requires your wits about you.

Nighttime maintenance is performed on the mens restroom outside our hotel. Looks like it doubles as some kind of electric utility cabinet! Are these men from the power company? Who knows.

Wheels down - in Delhi

We've arrived in Dehli and are aclimatising to the crazyness that is India. 3 days in and it almost seems like normality! Our hotel is in a very convenient part of town called Connaught Place. It's handy for excellent restaurants, shops and many men's lavatories - grey cabinets clearly marked with a skull and cross bone and "Danger 440V".

We spent yesterday taking in the architectural masterpieces of Shah Jahan - the Red Fort and Jama Masjid Mosque. We'll see his most famous handiwork - the Taj Mahal - on Sunday we hope. Equally interesting will the train ride there, our first in India. Wish us luck!

Mary is a big hit with Sikhs!

Japatis dry on a roof in the spice bazaar

Ablutions Indian style

Even the 101 has nothing on Dehli traffic