By the Ganga:

We had found our perfect spot.

A silent and hidden man-made outcrop covered by a young Peepal tree under which somebody had placed a stone ‘Shiva-linga’ and a Nandi close by. The grey Ganga flowed quietly in front spreading herself out on the other bank, which was empty of humans and human activities. The monsoon clouds flitted in and out across the distant hills.

The stones of the outcrop were cool and inviting. I lay down and was soon lost in the movement of the leaves as they danced about to their own mad tune. The sound of the wind amongst the leaves was lulling, captivating, broken only by the mild screeches of the grey hornbills. My friend was lost in her own world. I was lost in mine. And Ganga was lost in her own wanderings. Along with us was silence. The silence of nature and the silence of our minds.

By the Ganga - image: Bipasha M

I had never thought Haridwar could be so comforting. During my earlier travels, I had almost always bypassed the city, as I could not stand the chaos and confusion that I had always associated with the place. This is a place where religion is business, and it’s everywhere. On-the-face everywhere – something which I abhorred earlier.

This time also, I was more keen to go to Rishikesh and spend a day sitting on the white sand banks of the Ganga, surrounded by green hills. I have fond memories of Rishikesh – my first rafting trip way back in the late 90s when Ganga was free, wild, and ferocious; my first jumps from a cliff into her cold cold water - despite my fear of water; my first ‘weed’ high – a beautiful high, you can only get while sitting by the Ganga at dusk.     

This time, traffic jams on the highway to Rishikesh due to the upcoming ‘Kawariyas’ mela led us to this perfect spot instead of Rishikesh. We explored the city later in the evening – lanes and bylanes of the market filled with stuff related to religion and catering to the needs of the pilgrims. We visited temples, something which I would never have done earlier.

The day ended with a brilliant full moon shining over the distant hills and washing everything clean. The city had gone silent at night. From the top of the terrace of my friend’s ashram, I thought I could hear a faint murmuring – of Ganga still lost in her wanderings.