Rishikesh

Trip Start Dec 12, 2004

Trip End Dec 19, 2004

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Flag of India Rishikesh, India
Tuesday, December 21, 2004

Rishikesh was about 24 km north of Haridwar, upstream ganga. Rishikesh was named after the view of her hills that looked like the flowing manes of the many mendicants who lived and meditated in the caves in the Himalayan ridges and in the many ashrams that dotted the hills and valleys. The ganga here curved her way to the plains through the rising hills on either of her banks. Rishikesh is growing, and we could feel and almost see the effects of rising air pollution from vehicular traffic -- a haze above the town obscured views of the far hills. We took a three wheeler from Haridwar to go to Rishikesh. The vehicle packed its passengers like sardines in a can. Oh well, perhaps sardines had a little more room to play with in the cans. In Rishikesh, we crossed the hanging bridge Lakshmanjhula, and as we crossed, we marveled at its beauty and strength. It ferried, among other things, people and bicycles, scooters and mules. It was a long, heavy suspension, over the mighty and slow flowing Ganga. As we crossed the bridge, we could feel it sway, and see the schools of fishes in the water beneath that would lap up the small balls of wheat doughs we bought from a streetside shop. The banks were generally clean and dry. We sat in one of the huge steps by the river and helped ourselves to a frugal breakfast of tomato and cucumber sandwiches and nuts. Then we walked along the bank of the mighty Ganga. In the afternoon, we returned to Haridwar and took ropeways to visit the temples of Mansa and Chandi Devi. The ropeway was stylishly named Udaan Khatola (literally meaning flying carriage) after the mythical carriage that Kubera, the mythical god of wealth used to visit heavens. These ones of course did not fly, but the experience nevertheless was as close as it would get to low flying over the green plains and the mountain slopes. The azure skies hung above us, the timeless tales of Ganga river flowing beneath into the plains were told since ancient times, the mountains beckoned as they have charmed the pilgrims and nonbelievers alike, forever. We had to start somewhere to go to the mysterious hills for our personal nirvana.

Which is why we found ourselves sitting in the office of this taxi owner, Mr Garg. The owner, Mr. Garg couldn't come, so he sent his son instead to meet us at his office. We sat there, patiently, as we bargained to hire a taxi to take us to the far hills. We feigned disinterestedness, looked the other way, and eventually closed our deal for a taxi that would take us to the hills, and we could keep it for the next three days. We would start at Haridwar early in the morning, spend the first night at Rudraprayag. Here the restless emerald waters of Alakandanda met the river Mandakini at its confluence. We wanted to watch the sun rise on the hills above the confluence and the play of dawn-lights on the hills beyond and its valley. In the morning, we would start from Rudraprayag and leave for Khirsu, a quiet hill station far in the mountains, described as a hidden jewel in the hills. We planned to spend two days there, resting and relaxing, and then come back to Haridwar again.

The taxi was supposed to pick us at around eight in the morning, which is when most of Haridwar wakes up anyway. It arrived at nine, an hour later, in perfect harmony with timelessness in general in Haridwar at her stretchable time zone. The driver's said something like he was washing the car and got delayed in the process, and that he came in very late the night before. The car was a white ambassador, the once trusted vehicle that ruled the roads of India in the sixties and seventies when Indians had two brands of cars to choose from, and Ambassador ruled the markets. It had seen better days, although the one we hired looked like new. We started from Haridwar, used a bypass highway to avoid the town rush of Rishikesh and entered the hills. We told our driver that we were not in a hurry, and that we wouldn't mind breaking at places that he found interesting in his driving ventures in these routes. He said he was driving for the last twenty years or better of it, and he knew every stone around these areas. Some confidence we thought! As we passed the Rajaji national park, the wildlife sanctuary in the Himalayas in Rishikesh, we wondered if we could do it in this trip, and he suggested he could help us do it. If we were interested, that would mean coming back to Haridwar a day earlier and then he would arrange a visit to the parks. We didn't want to lose a day out, so he came out with another idea - a different one.

Rishikesh hotels

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