The Devbhoomi Diaries - Day 1
Unlike the marketing minds who were behind Kerala being called God's Own Country, Uttarakhand, which became the 27th state of India in 2000, was always known Devbhoomi - the land of the Gods. Some of the holiest places associated with Hinduism are located here. Badrinath and Kedarnath - places so ancient that even at the time of Adi Sankara they were well established as holy spots, the origins of the Ganga and Yamuna - which have economic and spiritual significance to the entire civilization that developed along its banks, Haridwar - famous for it's Kumbh Mela and Rishikesh which became a cultural tourist's hotspot after the Beatles visited and the caves where many of the scriptures of Hinduism originated - all all in Uttarakhand.
Many of these temples are inaccessible for almost half the year because of their altitude and weather conditions. The roads, which are maintained by the Border Roads Organization, under the Ministry of Defence, needs constant care due to the frequent landslides which block or even destroy the roads that wind across mountains. In May when there is a short window between when the temples open after winter and before the monsoons start a large number of pilgrims and tourists trying to make sense of the culture of India make their way on these winding roads to these sites.
I started from Bangalore on a Sunday, taking the morning flight to New Delhi. Even at 6 AM it was a full flight. With customary efficiency, Indigo loads us onto plane 45 minutes before departure, aiming for an on-time arrival for the 2 hour and 45 min flight. There's an all-women crew - both pilots and the cabin-crew.
The lady across the aisle is reading a book of Sanskrit hymns as plane takes off. Most people doze off, trying to regain some of the sleep they have lost in reaching the airport by 4:30 AM, waking up only when the captain announces that we are commencing descent into the Indira Gandhi international airport. Infants cry as their ears pop due to the change in the cabin pressure.
The landing corridors are jammed with air traffic and we are circling over the capital for half an hour, waiting for a landing slot. As seen from the air, Delhi is a sprawling metropolis and in many parts trees have become extinct as concrete bursts from the seams of the earth, ripping out the trees, as people try new ways of making money from the oldest asset - land.
We have a bumpy landing into the capital, tires whining, landing gear screeching. Cell phones commence their incessant notifications - piled up messages being disgorged as soon as passengers turn on their mobiles.
Our plan was to drove through Haridwar, Rishikesh, Rudraprayag and Joshimath to reach Badrinath, one of the holiest shrines to Vishnu. This is by no means a pilgrimage meant for people seeking the solitude of the mountains and seeking the company of nature - in 2018 almost one million people visited Badrinath, rebounding after the disastrous floods of 2013 which killed almost 10,000 people and left 300,000 visitors trapped in the valleys.
The Journey to Haridwar
On Monday we leave on the first leg of our journey at 6 AM. The plan is to reach Haridwar, where the Ganga leaves the mountains and enters the plains, no longer a playful frolicking river, but a mighty and wide river channeled through the heartland of India and feeding millions of people who depend on it for a livelihood.
By 7:30 AM we have left the wide roads of Delhi and are in the small towns of Uttar Pradesh, a state so large that every country in Africa, Europe, and South America has fewer people than Uttar Pradesh - if it were a nation. it would be the fifth most populous.
Given the inertia of the state, there has not been much improvement in the seven decades following independence. The roads are lined with decrepit retail enterprises which have ugly metal shutters, plastic waste is strewn in an unending line along the road. Kids in starched white uniforms walk between the cattle and the scooters and the shared auto-rickshaws carrying people to office on a Monday morning. There are hoardings for coaching centers promising success in the entrance exams to India's leading engineering colleges and a path out of the middle class towns.
Every few kilometers we cross a cluster of Dhabas promising "pure vegetarian food" and Shikanji stalls. According to Wikipedia, Shikanji is made with lemons, ginger, sugar, salt and pepper. One then has to pour cold drinking water in a glass, add the ingredients and shake it vigorously.
At 8:15 AM we are crossing the historic town of Meerut, which we all read about in our history books as being the starting point of the 1857 revolt against the British East India Company. The highway cuts through fields and ugly concrete buildings, interspersed with wedding halls and there is little sign of any of the history behind this ancient city.
Once we cross Meerut, it's agricultural land all the way. At Khatauli, maize fields stretch away from the highway all the way to the horizon. Occasionally food courts appear which sprout McDonald's and Subway signs which seem anachronistic in this land. Walls of small sheds are lined with cowdung patties which will be used as fuel. In the distance we see kilns spewing out smoke as they manufacture bricks for cities which have a never-ending hunger for them. Poplar trees which provide plywood line the maize farms - no land goes unused in this densely populated state.
It is close to noon when we enter Haridwar and get our first sight of the Ganga.
The ghats are lined with messages exhorting the public to recognize the sanctity of the river and not pollute it.
We check into our hotel and after lunch head out to the Mansa Devi temple on the Bilwa Parvat of the Himalayan Shivalik Range.
As with many temples outside Kerala, there is a distinct customer segmentation - pay less and wait longer or pay more and wait less. We choose the latter option and get on the Udankhatola (cable car) to the peak. Half way through, there are a series of jerks and the cable car comes to a complete stop. An announcement follows that due to technical difficulties the ride is stopped and that they deeply regret the inconvenience caused. Given that we are a few hundred meters or so above the ground, getting off the cable car is not an option. Luckily we resume a short while later.
The walls of the shrine on the hilltop are inscribed with verses praising the Goddess
देवि प्रपन्नार्तिहरे प्रसीद
प्रसीद मातर्जगतोऽखिलस्य ।
प्रसीद विश्वेश्वरि पाहि विश्वं
त्वमीश्वरी देवि चराचरस्य
O Devi, You Remove the Distress of those who Approach You and take Refuge in You;
Please be Gracious, O Mother of the Entire Universe,
Please be Gracious, O Goddess of the World, and Protect the World,
O Devi, You are the Goddess of all the Moving and Non-Moving Beings.
After visiting all the shrines in the temple, we take the cable car back downhill.
We've been advised to get to Hari ki Pauri and grab vantage points for the Ganga Arathi - the worship of the Goddess Ganga - by 5 PM since the crowd starts building up.
The path to the river is lined with ancient buildings - some of them locked in a confrontation with nature.
The narrow roads are crammed with vendors, shops overflowing on to the pavement and cattle.
And on some building, wires spout like ancient tentacles
We reach Hari Ki Pauri and visit a few shrines on the ghat.
By 5 PM people have started taking their seats on the ghat, awaiting the beginning of the worship, and as always, wherever there are pilgrims, there are people walking around selling hot tea, soliciting donations and trying to jump the queue.
Vendors on the side of the river have little leaf baskets filled with flowers, camphor and a wick for offering to the river.
People get their photos taken for posterity - or atleast till they show their friends and family and social network - before placing the offering in the waters where the little flame sparkles in the water until the little leaf basket hits a patch of turbulence it cannot navigate and the petals are scattered in the waters.
People toss coins into the waters, as offerings, and a young boy stands in the piers with a string attached to a magnet to fish the coins out - thus completing the economic cycle.
At 6:30 PM both sides of the river are packed. The young man sitting next to me, a resident of Mumbai, has just reached Haridwar after completing his visits to Kedarnath and Badrinath which have just opened a few days ago after being closed for the winter. He says it was bitterly cold and crowded at Kedarnath. It's his fourth trip to the shrines of the Himalayas.
The worship begins with hymns.
Water is worshiped with fire and the crowd is absolutely silent, taking in the magnificent spectacle.
At the end of the worship, a priest leads the crowd in taking a vow not to pollute or allow the Ganga to be polluted.
It's dark by now and the crowds disperse, united by reverence for the river.
__________
Click here for the pictures of the day
Many of these temples are inaccessible for almost half the year because of their altitude and weather conditions. The roads, which are maintained by the Border Roads Organization, under the Ministry of Defence, needs constant care due to the frequent landslides which block or even destroy the roads that wind across mountains. In May when there is a short window between when the temples open after winter and before the monsoons start a large number of pilgrims and tourists trying to make sense of the culture of India make their way on these winding roads to these sites.
I started from Bangalore on a Sunday, taking the morning flight to New Delhi. Even at 6 AM it was a full flight. With customary efficiency, Indigo loads us onto plane 45 minutes before departure, aiming for an on-time arrival for the 2 hour and 45 min flight. There's an all-women crew - both pilots and the cabin-crew.
The lady across the aisle is reading a book of Sanskrit hymns as plane takes off. Most people doze off, trying to regain some of the sleep they have lost in reaching the airport by 4:30 AM, waking up only when the captain announces that we are commencing descent into the Indira Gandhi international airport. Infants cry as their ears pop due to the change in the cabin pressure.
The landing corridors are jammed with air traffic and we are circling over the capital for half an hour, waiting for a landing slot. As seen from the air, Delhi is a sprawling metropolis and in many parts trees have become extinct as concrete bursts from the seams of the earth, ripping out the trees, as people try new ways of making money from the oldest asset - land.
We have a bumpy landing into the capital, tires whining, landing gear screeching. Cell phones commence their incessant notifications - piled up messages being disgorged as soon as passengers turn on their mobiles.
Our plan was to drove through Haridwar, Rishikesh, Rudraprayag and Joshimath to reach Badrinath, one of the holiest shrines to Vishnu. This is by no means a pilgrimage meant for people seeking the solitude of the mountains and seeking the company of nature - in 2018 almost one million people visited Badrinath, rebounding after the disastrous floods of 2013 which killed almost 10,000 people and left 300,000 visitors trapped in the valleys.
The Journey to Haridwar
On Monday we leave on the first leg of our journey at 6 AM. The plan is to reach Haridwar, where the Ganga leaves the mountains and enters the plains, no longer a playful frolicking river, but a mighty and wide river channeled through the heartland of India and feeding millions of people who depend on it for a livelihood.
By 7:30 AM we have left the wide roads of Delhi and are in the small towns of Uttar Pradesh, a state so large that every country in Africa, Europe, and South America has fewer people than Uttar Pradesh - if it were a nation. it would be the fifth most populous.
Given the inertia of the state, there has not been much improvement in the seven decades following independence. The roads are lined with decrepit retail enterprises which have ugly metal shutters, plastic waste is strewn in an unending line along the road. Kids in starched white uniforms walk between the cattle and the scooters and the shared auto-rickshaws carrying people to office on a Monday morning. There are hoardings for coaching centers promising success in the entrance exams to India's leading engineering colleges and a path out of the middle class towns.
Every few kilometers we cross a cluster of Dhabas promising "pure vegetarian food" and Shikanji stalls. According to Wikipedia, Shikanji is made with lemons, ginger, sugar, salt and pepper. One then has to pour cold drinking water in a glass, add the ingredients and shake it vigorously.
At 8:15 AM we are crossing the historic town of Meerut, which we all read about in our history books as being the starting point of the 1857 revolt against the British East India Company. The highway cuts through fields and ugly concrete buildings, interspersed with wedding halls and there is little sign of any of the history behind this ancient city.
Once we cross Meerut, it's agricultural land all the way. At Khatauli, maize fields stretch away from the highway all the way to the horizon. Occasionally food courts appear which sprout McDonald's and Subway signs which seem anachronistic in this land. Walls of small sheds are lined with cowdung patties which will be used as fuel. In the distance we see kilns spewing out smoke as they manufacture bricks for cities which have a never-ending hunger for them. Poplar trees which provide plywood line the maize farms - no land goes unused in this densely populated state.
It is close to noon when we enter Haridwar and get our first sight of the Ganga.
The ghats are lined with messages exhorting the public to recognize the sanctity of the river and not pollute it.
We check into our hotel and after lunch head out to the Mansa Devi temple on the Bilwa Parvat of the Himalayan Shivalik Range.
As with many temples outside Kerala, there is a distinct customer segmentation - pay less and wait longer or pay more and wait less. We choose the latter option and get on the Udankhatola (cable car) to the peak. Half way through, there are a series of jerks and the cable car comes to a complete stop. An announcement follows that due to technical difficulties the ride is stopped and that they deeply regret the inconvenience caused. Given that we are a few hundred meters or so above the ground, getting off the cable car is not an option. Luckily we resume a short while later.
The walls of the shrine on the hilltop are inscribed with verses praising the Goddess
देवि प्रपन्नार्तिहरे प्रसीद
प्रसीद मातर्जगतोऽखिलस्य ।
प्रसीद विश्वेश्वरि पाहि विश्वं
त्वमीश्वरी देवि चराचरस्य
O Devi, You Remove the Distress of those who Approach You and take Refuge in You;
Please be Gracious, O Mother of the Entire Universe,
Please be Gracious, O Goddess of the World, and Protect the World,
O Devi, You are the Goddess of all the Moving and Non-Moving Beings.
After visiting all the shrines in the temple, we take the cable car back downhill.
We've been advised to get to Hari ki Pauri and grab vantage points for the Ganga Arathi - the worship of the Goddess Ganga - by 5 PM since the crowd starts building up.
The path to the river is lined with ancient buildings - some of them locked in a confrontation with nature.
The narrow roads are crammed with vendors, shops overflowing on to the pavement and cattle.
And on some building, wires spout like ancient tentacles
By 5 PM people have started taking their seats on the ghat, awaiting the beginning of the worship, and as always, wherever there are pilgrims, there are people walking around selling hot tea, soliciting donations and trying to jump the queue.
Vendors on the side of the river have little leaf baskets filled with flowers, camphor and a wick for offering to the river.
People get their photos taken for posterity - or atleast till they show their friends and family and social network - before placing the offering in the waters where the little flame sparkles in the water until the little leaf basket hits a patch of turbulence it cannot navigate and the petals are scattered in the waters.
People toss coins into the waters, as offerings, and a young boy stands in the piers with a string attached to a magnet to fish the coins out - thus completing the economic cycle.
At 6:30 PM both sides of the river are packed. The young man sitting next to me, a resident of Mumbai, has just reached Haridwar after completing his visits to Kedarnath and Badrinath which have just opened a few days ago after being closed for the winter. He says it was bitterly cold and crowded at Kedarnath. It's his fourth trip to the shrines of the Himalayas.
The worship begins with hymns.
Water is worshiped with fire and the crowd is absolutely silent, taking in the magnificent spectacle.
At the end of the worship, a priest leads the crowd in taking a vow not to pollute or allow the Ganga to be polluted.
It's dark by now and the crowds disperse, united by reverence for the river.
__________
Click here for the pictures of the day
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