Ancient caves, dried-up lakes and a Golden Temple

On the night of my third day in Mumbai, I had a train to Aurangabad, a city in the same state of Maharastra. I was on my way to Delhi, and wanted to get there as soon as possible to go further north. The initial, crazy plan was this: night train to Aurangabad, one day there, night bus to Ahmedabad, one day there, night train to Udaipur, two days and one night there, night bus to Ajmer, one day there, night train to Delhi. That's three nights in public transport, one night in a hotel, two nights in public transport. A couple of facts altered my initial plan. One: it was darn crazy. Also, the bus between Aurangabad and Ahmedabad turned out to take 15 hours; night buses are so horrible that I preferred to take two night trains, going back to Mumbai first. And last but not least, I had gotten pretty ill in Mumbai. I spent the night in the train to Aurangabad shivering like hell first, despite being in my sleeping bag with all my clothes on, and glowing with heat after, even though I had taken off my sleeping bag and almost all my clothes.

The purpose of my visit to Aurangabad was the Ajanta caves. These Buddhist and Hindu sanctuaries, carved out of the rocks in the 2nd-1st century BC and 5th century AD, are one of the absolute artistic highlights in India. Since I was ill, I decided I would also visit the nearer by Ellora cave, staying one night in Aurangabad. Since I had come all the way to see the caves, I was determined to do so, despite my condition. I had met an Australian guy on the trains who had the same plans, so I would have some company, which is always more enjoyable. Helped by the necessary medication, I visited the Ellora and Ajanta caves on two consecutive days. The Ellora caves were beautiful and impressive - especially the Kailasanatha temple, which is said to be the largest monolithic structure in Asia - but I was much more impressed by Ajanta. The location is amazing: the caves were carved out of the outer side of a horseshoe-shaped valley. They were forgotten for many centuries, until a British hunting party stumbled upon the site in 1819. But the location is far from being the only fascinating aspect of the Ajanta caves. Where at the Ellora caves it's all about the carvings, the walls of the Ajanta caves are decorated with extraordinarily fine paintings, made with a unique technique involving clay and dung, as well as minerals and plants. Walking around there in the dark cavesm exploring the murals with a flashlight, gives a taste of how it must have been for the discoverers to unveil all those forgotten treasures. Thanks to the medication, I was able to enjoy the caves, but both times, by the times I got back to Aurangabad my fever rose again.

A night train took me back to Mumbai, where I spent another day. Since I felt good that day, and it didn't rain, for once, I visited Elephanta island. This island, a couple of km off the coast, houses yet another collection of caves; I had seen enough of those, but the view on the harbor of Mumbai was magnificent. That night, on the train to Ahmedabad, I noticed I started to get a fierce cough, and the fever once again came back in force. A bit worried about my health, I went to the hospital the next day. Diagnosis: a pretty heavy lung infection. The doctor prescribed me antibiotics and three days of bed rest - just when I was in Ahmedabad, that hot and crowded city where I was only passing through. Since I had no more fever after my visit to the hospital, I left Ahmedabad the next night taking the train to Udaipur. [by the way, as I'm writing this, I'm being bugged by a huge flying cockroach. Flying cockroaches? Evolution, you've gone too far!].

When I arrived in Udaipur, I realized I was pretty glad to be back in Rajasthan, that big and rugged state with colorful people I had visited a couple of times when I was in Delhi. Udaipur is supposed to be a fairy-tale city, with a beautiful palace on a lake. Unfortunately, because of poor monsoons, the lake is almost completely dried out. In fact, the locals had put a couple of hundreds of earthen water jugs there, begging the gods for some rain. Even without water, Udaipur was pretty charming, with people walking around calmly and children playing cricket in the dried-out lake. The next day I went to Ajmer. Once again, the bus drive was great, with the rough Rajasthani landscape populated by people gathered around water pumps, men carrying wood and women bearing several big water pots on their heads, as well as the usual cows, dogs and donkeys. I went to Ajmer mainly to visit nearby Pushkar, a Hindu pilgrimage town, where hundreds of temples are arranged around a lake.A lake that was, surprise surprise, dried out. This time, though, instead of children playing cricket, the lake was replaced by ugly concrete water tanks and bulldozers. I could see that Pushkar must be a really nice place when the water is there, and I enjoyed seeing the people performing their religious rituals (in the water tanks instead of in the lake), but I didn't stay long. I went back to Ajmer, and tired of sight-seeing, I went to a park. To my surprise, I found aesthetic marble pavilions at the side of a beautiful lake...with water! I got into a conversation with some Indian tourists, who were recognizably Sufi's (a type of Muslims). I remembered there was a famous Sufi temple in Ajmer, so a asked them to take me there. I found the same special atmosphere as in the Sufi temple in Delhi; this time without feeling too uncomfortable, thanks to the good company. (Strange coincidence: that same night, there was a big blast at an important Sufi temple in Pakistan)

And then I was on a night train to Delhi! My stay was bound to be different than before, because this time I was going to stay in the backpackers' area. Delhi was hot, rainy, muddy, and as congested as always, but after all these weeks of discovering new places and adjusting to new situations almost daily, it was kind of nice to go back to a vaguely familiar place. The first day was a typical Delhi-day: I had to important things on my to-do list, and I ended stressed out and angry because I managed to do only one. But at night I met up with some old friends, with whom I watched football (the World Cup was on) and went out, which made me forget the bad day. The next day I met my Indian friend Arnav. We went to Gurudwara Bangla Sahib, the Sikh temple I had somehow overlooked before - an excellent preparation for the Golden Temple I would see the next day.

Indeed, my next destination was Amritsar, home to Sikhism's holiest shrine. Sikhism, founded in the 15th century, began as a reaction against the caste system. Sikhs, who live mainly in North India, specifically in the state of Punjab, are very recognizable by some attributes, like their turband, beard and steel bangle. In their religion, there is a lot of emphasis on the equality of all beings. This is very much reflected in the atmosphere at the Golden Temple. Everybody is welcome, and can stay for free in one of the dormitories inside the complex. As is that wasn't enough, they provide free food for everyone. Eating at the Golden Temple is quite an experience. After getting a tin plate and cup, you stand in line before entering a gigantic dining hall. People sit on the floor in long rows, waiting for volunteers to provide them with food and water. After eating, your plate is washed by one of the dozens of volunteers; anyone can join the mass of people who do the dishes under loud clattering of the plates. The kitchen, serving up to 40,000 pilgrims a day, is equally impressive; the pots are taller than the cooks, who stir them with giant spoons. With all this, I haven't even talked about the shrine itself yet. The Golden Temple stands in the middle of a pond, which is surrounded by a walkway and galleries, all in marble. The atmosphere is pretty relaxed, with people walking around, prostrating themselves in front of the temple, or bathing in the holy pool. After crossing a small bridge, you queue up to get inside the shrine. That's when you notice that while the gold-plated upper part was drawing all your attention at first, the marble lower part is beautifully decorated with fine colored inlays, representing flowers and animals. While beautiful changing is resonating in the whole complex, you procede to the inside of the temple, the very heart of Sikhism. People are praying and bowing, the musicians are playing in the center, the atmosphere is amazing. The interior design is what I would usually call kitsch: golden decoration on a background of green, red and blue - but somehow, it works. You can get up to the roof, where you get a nice view of the people strolling on the walkway.
After my first visit inside the Golden temple, I went to Attari, 30km west of Amritsar, to watch the border closing ceremony at the only crossing between India and Pakistan. Stands are installed on either side of the border, where people from both countries ather every afternoon. An hour before the ceremony, while the Pakistani side is still empty, the Indian stands are filled with colorfully dressed people who start shouting slogans (helped by an animator), giving the whole thing a bit of a football match atmosphere.Yhen at some point women from the crowd are invited to carry an Indian flag, running to the border and back - young and old, slim and fat, and all that under a scorching sun. Then the same women start dancing together to some typical Indian music. In the meantime, people are appearing on the Pakistani side. The constrast between the soberly dressed, quiet Pakistani and the colorful, dancing, cheering Indians is big. While the two sides start shouting slogans at each other, the official part starts. The ceremony, where Indian and Pakistani soldiers walk up to each other and lower their flags before closing the gates, has often quite accurately been described as being similar to Monthy Python's "Ministry of Silly Walks" sketch.
That night, as I was strolling around the Golden Temple before going to sleep, I noticed that many people were sleeping right there, on the marble floor. I thought it would be a special experience to go to sleep and wake up in that holy place, between the pilgrims and the chanting, so I took the pillow out of my dormitory bed and lay down under the stars, right next to the pool. Marble doesn't make the most comfortable bed, and I got woken up, quite hard-handedly, twice - once because they were cleaning the floor, and the second time, around 4.30, because for some reason everybody had to wake up - but it was definitely worth it. The chanting goes on all night, and there are people paying a visit to the temple even in the earliest hours. After being woken up the second time, I walked around, watching the new day awakening, accompanied by morning prayers - and it's true what they say: the temple looks the most beautiful in the gentle light of the rising sun.

I would have stayed longer in Amritsar, if I had not come to know just the day before that the Dalai Lama was celebrating his 75th birthday in Dharamsala that same day. Dharamsala, location of His Holiness' residency as well as the Tibetan government in exile, happened to be my next destination. I couldn't believe my luck: I was going to see the Dalai Lama in person, on his own birthday party! Alas, since I lingered a bit too long in Amritsar that morning, and later my bus broke down (of course!), I missed the ceremony by just one hour. Dharamsala is a very nice place with stunning views and charming people - especially the Tibetans - but I stayed there for only one night. Apart from the fact that Dharamsala was very rainy, the main reason for my hurry was that there was one place left in India I didn't want to miss: Leh, in the state of Ladakh. Leh is situated high up in the mountains. One of the ways to get there is by taking a bus from another big tourist destination called Manali. The road from Manali to Leh includes some of the highest motorable passes in the worlds and offers magnificent views of the surrounding mountains and valleys. The Road is open about three months a year, in the summer, but I new that bad weather conditions could close it down any time. So going to Leh can be quite a waiting game, and the sooner I got to Manali, I thought, the sooner I could start waiting, the sooner I would get to Leh. I could always go back to Dharamsala afterward if I wanted. This idea changed slightly when the ten-hour bus drive between Dharamsala and Manali turned out to be a hell. The winding road and aggressive driver caused my stomach to protest; let's just say I was happy to have a window seat. When I got to Manali, I found out the Road was closed, heavy rainfall having caused a big landslide. The waiting game had begun...