Religion has always been a powerful force in India.
The two major religions, Hinduism and Islam have a long history of conflict, but except for the odd flare up of “communal violence,” they mostly get along.
Add to the mix other religions – Sikhs, Jains, Buddhists, Christians and the odd Zoroastrian – and you have an eclectic religious mix.
In the past few days I’ve had a chance to explore some of the sites most important to both Hindus and Muslims.
First, on my second day in Delhi, I took the Metro to Old Delhi, which is where a large number of Muslims live and it is home to the Jama Masjid, India’s largest mosque.
Old Delhi isn’t really the oldest part of the city – I visited some of those areas the previous day – but it is a fascinating and congested area of markets, shops and constant activity especially along its main street, Chandni Chowk.
It’s by no means exclusively Muslim. I also passed a major Sikh gurdwara, Hindu temples and even a Jain temple that also takes in and treats injured animals and birds, consistent with the Jain belief in the sanctity of all life. Meat-eating birds, apparently, can’t stay but are only treated as out patients.
I was approached by a cycle rickshaw driver who offered me a tour of Old Delhi, listing the places where he would take me. Although we agreed on a price, he insisted on taking me to a couple shops where he would get a commission. I took a perfunctory look at silks, teas and spices, but didn’t buy anything because I don’t wish to add to the load I’m carrying, and didn’t want to pay the jacked up prices.
Because I didn’t buy anything, the rickshaw wallah got no commission, so he raised the agreed price at the end of the trip by more that five fold. Against my better judgment, I paid him, justifying it by the fact that cycle rickshaw drivers are among Delhi’s poorest residents.
I then went back on foot over some of the areas we covered, photographing the activity.
My last stop was the Jama Masjid, a beautiful mosque with Mughal architecture.
Access to the main interior was restricted for non-Muslims that day because it was Friday, the Muslim holy day. Nonetheless, I was free to explore the main courtyard and other parts of the building and I had been inside in 1977.
Although my train to Haridwar left that evening from Old Delhi, I had to return to New Delhi for my bags, which I’d left with the hotel.
The trip back by motor rickshaw in the rush hour is one that most North Americans would not believe. Cars, bullock carts, bicycles, rickshaws, trucks, buses, motor rickshaws and everything you can imagine all compete for the same space, ignoring all normal traffic rules, in one big honking frenzy. There is method to the madness though – the horns signal the presence of each vehicle, which may or may not have lights on, as vehicles whip around without any regard for painted lanes.
All you can do is have faith in the driver and know that your fate is in other hands.
After getting my bags and eating dinner, I got a taxi all the way back to Old Delhi railway station. The taxi was a nicer vehicle, a Tata Indigo, and my driver, arranged by the hotel, was more professional. As we chose an alternate route to avoid the worst traffic, we still ran into congestion.
My driver blamed the government for allowing shops to set up on the roadway, push carts, and other obstructions. When I pointed out that on my previous visit there were cows on the road and there weren’t any now, he conceded that this was the only small bit of progress in many years.
The train to Haridwar left after 10 p.m. and got in around 6 a.m. I had a bunk to sleep on in a reserved spot and as this was an air conditioned class, the railway provided clean bedding. With my senior’s discount – yes, in India I’m a senior – my ticket got me to my next destination and saved me on a hotel, all for only $9.
I did, however, opt to pay an extra half day at my hotel to check in early, get organized and walk into town.
Haridwar is one of India’s major Hindu holy cities. The centre of the action is at Har-ki-Pairi ghat on the banks of a channel in the holy Mother Ganges river. Here the devout come from all over India to bathe in the Ganges and perform various religious rituals.
Those making pilgrimages to Haridwar range from sadhus or holy men who have taken a vow of poverty and wander through India with next to nothing on a spiritual quest to middle class Indians, who hire local photographers to photograph them bathing in the chilly river waters or celebrating aarti by pouring cows milk into the Ganges or setting afloat little boats made from a broad leaf and containing flowers and a burning flame.
Before sunset, I returned to watch the activities as priests and others chanted, poured milk into the Ganges, and ultimately carried flaming torches to the river. It was an amazing scene as night fell.
Throughout the ceremony and afterward, little boys with powerful magnets on poles or long nylon ropes searched the water for coins thrown into the river by the devout. Religion is a major industry for Haridwar and people of all social classes live profit from it.
On Sunday, I went to the railway station to be there when Taktal tickets went on sale. These are railway tickets held back until the day before the journey and then released at a premium. I had booked a bunk in air conditioned class for the next leg of my journey to Lucknow, but was seventh on a waiting list and this hasn’t changed since I booked it. All the trains to Lucknow had been completely full. I managed to get a Taktal ticket for a second class sleeper, which is in a crowded car and has no bedding, but at least I should be able to spread out and hopefully get some sleep.
Next I got a bus to Rishikesh, another holy city a little further up the Ganges, for a day trip. Rishikesh was made famous when the Beatles hung out there with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. It’s changed a lot since then and since I visited it in 1977.
Today Rishikesh is a kind of new age Disneyland aimed at both westerners and Indians who come to seek enlightenment. There are massive ashrams specializing in all kinds of yogi training. Shops offer everything from astrology to reflexology. Young westerners don robes and various spiritual trappings.
I took a walk over a suspension bridge in the heart of the action to get a closer look at some of the spiritual complexes and the mix of people. The bridge was covered in monkeys that leaped between cables, sometimes attacking tourists and stealing their food.
I watched as one large male monkey suddenly lunged at a woman nearby and in a split second it snatched a plastic bag from her, and climbed onto a perch high over the water with it and began to inspect it with his teeth. Out tumbled a large Canon zoom lens, which fortunately landed on the bridge and appeared not to have received major damage.
It was worth it to see a little of Rishikesh, but I’m not into the new age scene and frankly the busy and touristy atmosphere did not lend itself to peaceful meditation. I returned to Haridwar on a motor rickshaw shared with an Indian family.
Today, I’ve checked into a cheap hotel near the railway station just to use it during the day as my train to Lucknow leaves at 10:45 p.m.
I’ve had difficulty getting my photos off the memory cards as my aging netbook unfortunately can’t read them. I’ve had to go to internet cafes to copy the files off my cards, something I had hoped to avoid. And with the poor quality internet in Haridwar, I haven’t been able to upload photos to my blog.
I’m working on it and will post some when I’m able.
