Indian Independence Day

 *posted by Jeet

On August 15, 1947 India gained independence from Britain. Sadly, the reverberations of the partition of the subcontinent into India and Pakistan are all too familiar today - what was once one nation became two, and eventually became further partitioned when East Pakistan split off from West Pakistan and became Bangladesh in 1971. During partition, millions of people were displaced from their respective regions, and millions were also killed in sectarian and religious violence.

Everybody we've met in India is extremely proud of their country, but agree that partition was a disaster. If the nation had remained united and free of religious division, as it had been for so many thousands of years, perhaps we wouldn't be dealing with the fundamentalism and terrorism which plagues the subcontinent (and the rest of the world) today.

Regardless, August 15 is a day of celebration, and despite the tragic events of the past week we decided to have a small hookah session on the rooftop of our residency. We relaxed and reflected on everything that had happened thus far on the trip, and broke in one of the beautiful Kashmiri hookahs my Rono Mamu had bought for me in Dilli Haat. Katie and I even danced on the roof, although I wouldn't call my pathetic performance dancing. We'll be heading to Mumbai tomorrow to spend a few days with my Didun and mom's side of the family, so we'll fill you all in once we get there.

Jana Gana Mana.

Death in India

*posted by Jeet

"He whose mind is not agitated in misfortune, whose desire for pleasures has disappeared, whose passion, fear, and anger have departed, and whose meditation is steady, is said to be a sage." - The Bhagavad Gita

There are certain experiences that are so powerful, so raw, that they become impossible to describe in any meaningful way. Regardless, I'll try and give everybody a taste of what we saw and experienced on this, the day of my Pishimoni's cremation. Today's events changed my outlook on life and death forever, and made me realize the harsh realities of death in my home country. While the beginning of this journey dealt with life and new beginnings, it is clear that the end of this journey will deal with death and letting go.

My father arrived in Kolkata from the states this morning (Katie, Arny and I got here a few days ago in order to be with my Dadu, Thampu, and Kakima), and following his arrival was the final viewing of my Pishimoni's body. In Hindu tradition, the body is often brought back to the deceased individual's residence for one last time, and friends and family are able to view the body for one last time before it is cremated. It is essentially like a wake, but much more free form. Everything happened so suddenly, one minute we were picking up my dad from the airport, and the next minute we were dressed in all white kurtas, getting ready to face the death which had shattered our family's very being.

A sort of funeral car/truck held my Pishi in the back in a clear glass compartment, and stopped in our residence's parking lot for the final viewing. It was a lot to take in for all of us, and the reality of the situation finally hit me - I couldn't believe this had happened. We cried. Friends and family gathered around the funeral car to pay their respects as they looked upon my Pishi's face one last time. She was elegantly dressed in a beautiful sari and had been adorned with many flowers. Finally, it was time for the cremation, and my brother, father, and I got into the front of the funeral car to be driven to the cremation grounds.

As we drove to the Kalighat area (where we had payed our respects to Ma Kali on the first day out in Kolkata) we passed many Hindus on the road who offered pronam to our Pishi as her body passed by on the street. This was a truly amazing site to see - a simple and silent way for strangers to offer their condolences to the deceased and her family.

Arny and I could have never imagined what we would witness at the crematorium. First we helped to carry my Pishi's body out of the funeral car and into the crematorium, where we were the third in line for a cremation. There was no nice funeral home here, only a dirty, pan covered building where dead bodies were in queue to be cremated. The smell of death and ash lingered. It was pretty surreal - we watched as two other families went through the final prayers and sent their loved ones into The Fire.

At last it was our turn - again my brother, father, and I helped carry my Pishi's body onto the wooden stretcher which would be put into the cremation pit (this was an electrical crematorium, many Hindus still utilize the ancient wooden pyre for the cremation). We were helped by Pishimoni's driver Mahadev, the groundskeeper of our property Paal, and the husbands of Pishimoni's two maids, who had traveled very long ways to attend the cremation. As Pishimoni considered Arny and I her sons, we went through the final rites prayers as the crematorium brahmin walked us through a series of ancient rituals. Following these rituals it was time for the final goodbye. We all lifted her scaffold and placed Pishimoni in front of the cremation pit, each offered a final pronam to the body, and stepped back.

We watched as the crematorium workers hoisted the body up as the door to the fire pit opened up. There was a bright red and white heat emanating from the pit's coals, and our Pishimoni's body was slid inside. The door shut and we waited. We waited for over an hour as the fire consumed the body, watching as more families entered the crematorium with more deceased individuals. I thought about all the Indian mythologies and philosophies I had read and learned about and how they all place such a massive emphasis on death. This was the reality - death is a part of life.

As The Buddha said, all life is suffering, and the ultimate goal is to end that suffering by escaping the endless cycle of deaths and rebirths, to realize one's own self through detachment and spiritual devotion.

After the body had been taken by the fire, we asked for a small amount of Pishimoni's ashes to be kept in an urn, which we wanted to personally place in the Ganges with the rest of our family present (Dadu and Katie had remained home for the cremation, even Thampu wasn't traditionally supposed to attend the cremation - but our family has never been too keen on superstitions).

Before returning home with Pishimoni's urn, Mahadev drove Arny, Baba, and I to Babughat, a holy site on the banks of the river Ganga in the middle of Kolkata. It was dirty, to say the least. Mahadev led Arny and I down to the water, where we were to throw in a second urn which was said to contain the navel of the deceased. After a short prayer, we threw this second urn in the river, and returned home with the urn containing the ashes.

Durga, Durga, Jai Baba, Vigneshwar.

"Truly there was never a time when I was not, nor you, nor these lords of men; and neither will there be a time when we shall cease to be, from this time onward." - The Bhagavad Gita

My Pishimoni

 *posted by Jeet

When we first started this trip to India, we could never have imagined the things we would experience. My Pishimoni (dad's older sister) had greeted us upon our arrival to Kolkata and arranged much of this epic journey around India for us. We had been staying at her flat in Kolkata, a place that she said belonged to Arny and I, who she considered her only sons. Pishimoni's husband (our Pishemoshai) passed away many years ago and she never had any children of her own.

Regardless, Pishimoni was a beacon of love and joy in our family - easily the kindest and most eloquent person I have ever met. My brother and I were extremely close to her, as she had stayed with us in Minnesota many times before, and we had helped her get through some very taxing medical emergencies. Pishimoni had also known Katie since we first started dating, and would always get a smile on her face every time she saw her. She loved planning out which gifts she would give to Katie when we were to get married, and always rejoiced in complimenting Katie for her kindness and beauty. Our Pishimoni had so many plans for us during this India trip, but sadly we've learned that in life it often becomes difficult to truly plan for anything.

Today, on August 11, 2010, my Pishimoni passed away. Near the beginning of the trip (prior to our journey to Puri and the engagement) she fell very ill and eventually had to be hospitalized. Everything happened completely out of the blue, just as it always does with things like this. Of course, we were all trying to be optimistic about her condition, and as a result refrained from including details about her illness in our posts. The entire ordeal was already extremely exhausting and difficult for our family to deal with amongst ourselves - again, we never thought it would happen like this. Pishimoni has been in our minds and hearts throughout our travels - like I said before, she is the one who made this all possible.

It had been seven years since we had been in India, seven years since my uncle's death, and seven years since we placed my uncle's and my mother's ashes in the Ganges. Who knew we would once again be faced with a family death upon our seemingly auspicious return to the homeland. Pishimoni's spirit will be with us forever, but it will take time for our family to heal. 

Katie, Arny and I will be returning to Kolkata tomorrow by plane and my father will be coming to India by the end of the week. We are not sure how our travel plans will change for the remainder of the trip, but we appreciate everybody's love and support for our family during this extremely difficult time.

Mehendi

*posted by Kayd

I got mehendi done on my hands and arms today! (this is the original henna tattoo, but mehendi is a vegetable product and completely natural). Didun called a friend who highly recommended the artist who did my mehendi. I thought this would take like 20 minutes, maybe an hour max. Instead, I had to sit for a total of almost four hours while the fronts and backs of my arms and hands were done. The mehendi was placed on my arms and had to dry overnight before I scraped it off to reveal the final, polished design. Since I couldn't use my hands the first night, Didun had to feed me dinner and Arny had to take out my contacts so I could sleep. It was a long process but I keep getting complimented on the intricate detail of the work and how beautiful the designs are.

The saying goes: the more beautiful your mehendi is, the more your mother-in-law loves you, and the darker your palms get, the more your husband loves you. As you can see, my mehendi is gorgeous and my palms got really dark. Looks like Abhrajeet and his mom Kakoli love me a lot!

Hometown Antics

*posted by Jeet

Baroda (now known as Vadodara) is my hometown, the city where I was born. I've always loved Baroda - it's small for an Indian city, and has a much different feel than anywhere else I've been to in India. Quite frankly, things are pretty normal around these parts, but that doesn't mean Baroda doesn't have some awesome things to see.

Our first day here we visited Eme Mandir, which is a temple complex run by the local military school. Terrorism is a very real threat for everyday Indians, particularly in Western India, and the military presence in Baroda was very obvious. Regardless, my Didun told me that I used to love going to the Eme Mandir and playing there as a child. Katie, Arny and I checked it out, and it was a very peaceful place indeed - exactly what we needed at this point in the trip when we were utterly exhausted.The mandir complex itself was basically a small park with statues from all point of Indian-Hindu history, and the mandir had structural elements which represented five different religions in India: Hinduism, Islam, Jainism, Buddhism, and Christianity.

Our second day in Baroda was also pretty eventful. We checked out an old palace museum of Baroda which had artwork and statues from all over the world. It was small but sweet. After that we went and toured the Laxmi Vilas Palace, the epic dwelling of the old royal family of Baroda. The tour was complete with MP3 guides that were in English, just for us.

Finally we went to my favorite spot in Baroda: the zoo. I can still remember this zoo from my baby days - Didun tells me that I used to refuse to go to school unless she took me to see the birds in the morning. And for good reason - the bird collection at the Baroda zoo is massive, and there are many other animals at the zoo from all over India and the world. Clearly this is where my love for nature started, and it was awesome to be able to share the zoo experience with Katie and Arny.

Family In Baroda & BBQ Nation

If you like grilling out and kabobs then Barbeque Nation is for you. 

Tushar Uncle and Dipali Auntie took us out for dinner tonight and we are convinced this place would be quite popular in the US. We sat down in a booth that was extra comfy and had pillows to keep us propped up. There were two places for charcoal grills at our table and sauces/oils for flavoring. It works like this: the waiters brings out cooked meat and veggies on sticks and place them over the charcoal grills to keep them warm. Each person sitting down is welcome to take whatever they want - fish, chicken, shrimp, paneer, peppers... and however much of what they want because this is buffet style and never ending. During this grilling buffet, waiters also come around with more food that can't be cooked on a stick (clearly they've never been to the Minnesota State Fair).  It was so delicious!

But that wasn't the end. After we decided that we had had our fill of the grill portion we moved onto a traditional buffet filled with soup, rice, dahl, chicken, veg, noodles and dessert.

Can anyone say stuffed?

A huge thank you to everyone we met in Baroda! We'll be back sooner then later!
 

Didun

 

Friends and relatives welcome with joy a loved one,

Returning from abroad after a long absence.

In exactly the same way will the fruit of right action,

Welcome the doer as she travels from one life to the next.

- The Dhammapada

First Class

*posted by Kayd

This train ride was much different that our previous train rides to and from Puri.

For one thing, we were in first class. That means we have a little compartment to ourselves, complete with two bunk-beds. Another huge difference was: there was food! Apparently this train line offers food to all the passengers.

First we were greeted by the 'manager' and were each given a rose to welcome us.

Then we got cheese sandwichs, tea, samosas, and some desserts. We thought we were in heaven. Our bunk mate Priya told us this was just the snack, and that dinner would come in a few hours.

I don't know what it is about trains, or maybe it was the fact that I had only eaten brownies and ice cream on very little sleep, but I didn't feel good the rest of the trip so I laid down and slept.

For dinner, we were given soup, a choice of veg or non veg, and a dessert. The boys said the food wasn't that great (what mass produced travel food ever is?) but it was good to have something in the stomach for the 10 hour train ride. 

Despite the crappy food we were lucky to have an awesome bunk mate. Priya was from South India, where things are generally much more orthodox than other parts of the country, but she herself was really chill. It turned out she was also a follower of Ramakrishna, whose mission we had visited in Kolkata at the beginning of the trip. We told her about our adventures thus far and the various places we had been to. She was very down to earth, and we were happy to hear that she felt the same way as we did about Akshardham (the government sponsored temple in Delhi). She was also a big fan of bhang, and told us it's best to drink on hot summer days. Thank goodness for good conversation!

Week Two Recap

Check out what we've done during week two! We're exhausted but excited for Baroda - see you on the other side!

States we visited during week 2:
Uttar Pradesh (Delhi, Noida, Agra, Vrindavan, Mathura)

Here are the week 2 links:

• We've landed in Delhi
• Street food in Noida
• Plip the Stork
• McChicken
• Old Delhi
• Somerville School
• Presidential Palace of India
• Taj Mahal 
• Hare Krishna!
• Land of Bhang
• Nerula's Ice Cream
• Akshardham: Government Sponsored Religion
• Dilli Haat
• Real Indian Values
• Cafe Coffee Day
• Memory Lane

And here's week 1's recap.

Thanks again to Raju Uncle, Mithu Auntie, Toby and Tiya for an amazing time in Delhi!

Memory Lane

*posted by Abhrajeet

Before heading out to Baroda, we hit up our old flat in Noida, where I spent much of my infant/toddler days here in India. The flat is just minutes away from Toby and Tiya's place, and we all used to chill around these parts pretty much every day back then. We'd shoot off fireworks in front of the house during religious festivals, and there's a small park nearby that we always played in. Sadly, we sold off the flat several years ago after my uncle passed away, but it still hasn't lost its old school Noida charm. Maybe one day when I'm rich I can buy it back...

Cafe Coffee Day

Cafe Coffee Day (CCD) is an awesome coffee chain in India which is far better than any Starbucks or Caribou. Not to mention the branding is amazing!

We met up with Sajal Uncle, Baby Mashi, and Bubul there in Noida before our train to Baroda. Thanks for a great time!

Real Indian Values

So we've been in India for a while now and we've been hearing a lot about "respecting your elders," but what does this rule really entail in Indian culture? After several extremely irritating and offensive incidences, we decided to find out for ourselves.

First off, as we've come to see, in India, everything revolves around hierarchies. You won't find another country in the world with more red tape and/or ridiculous societal BS. The family structure is all about respecting those elder to you. Basically, the youngest kids are at the bottom of the totem pole, while the oldest grandpas are at the top. However, the problem with this rule is that it makes it extremely difficult for you to disagree with or act against anybody in a generation that's above yours, even if they are completely out of line.

Example 1: A certain family member (who will remain unnamed because we respect our elders) repeatedly patronized the three of us. This family member seemed to think that we were all toddlers, simply because the last time he saw us, we were in fact toddlers. He also was extremely awkward towards Kayd, telling her "in India men don't usually shake hands with women," and also had the tenacity to ask her if she knew what a communist was. All these minor bullshits aside, this same family member seemed to think that, because we were toddlers, we were incapable of transporting ourselves around, and even showed up in our driveway one night when we refused to follow him home, so that he could lead us to our home...yeah...didn't really make sense to us either. Oh yeah, he also almost tried to drive the three of us and our friends around drunk.

Obviously our encounter with this chap was pretty damn stressful and annoying. While we didn't want to abrasively and openly offend or go against him (due to our vigilant respecting of elders and adherence to Indian values) we had to make some independent moves which probably pissed him off. Whatever - drunk driving is drunk driving, no matter what country you're in or how old you are. Luckily, every single adult we told this story to completely agreed with our decision to resist this family member's absurd patronizing and irresponsible tactics. True Indians always place rationale over bullshit - no matter what the official rules are, that's what we've been taught and that's what our friends we were with during this incident had told us.

Oh, but wait, there's more! Let's move on to Example 2, which shows that even the people you think you can trust most can suddenly turn hilariously hypocritical. After an evening of relaxation and drinks with some friends (the same friends who had resisted the drunk driving attempts with us in Example 1) it was time to go home. Now, the three of us Americans wouldn't dare drive in India, so we put all our trust into others to keep us safe during our automobile endeavors. However, following this jolly night of chilling and drinking, we once again found ourselves in a ridiculous situation where we were trying to prevent somebody from driving us home under the influence of alcohol. Keep in mind this individual hadn't eaten all day and chugged a final drink on the way to the car. When we asked for the keys to be handed over to a sober driver we were told to take a taxi home, which would have been a suitable alternative, had we known where the hell we were and where the hell we were supposed to go.

Regardless, after a lot of begging and pleading, the sober individual took the keys and we all drove home in silence. On the way back we saw a man lying motionless on the road. He was about ten feet away from his motorcycle and appeared to be dead after being thrown off of his bike. Alcohol related or not, Indian roads have no rules and alcohol effects your judgment and reflexes which are especially crucial when driving in India. It's a no-brainer - obviously we needed a sober driver.

What killed us the most is that when we finally got home we were yelled at by the SOBER DRIVER!?!?!?!!!!? We were told that although we were right on principle (drunk driving = BAD!) but that while in India we needed to "respect our elders."

This was pretty bizarre. For one thing, there were no elders in the vicinity - all of us were around the same age and in the same family generation (read: the "elders" rule did not apply here, ask ANY ADULT IN INDIA - we did!)

Not only this, but if we were right on principle, why the hell would we apologize for anything?! The hypocrisy was overwhelming and insulting - it was all a bit too much to take in.

To sum it up, we'll leave you with the opinion of our family's most respected of elders after we told his about these incidences. While we can't fully transcribe the Bangla our Dadu spoke, here's the gist of it. He laughed a bit, told us we were completely right in our actions, and told us not to worry about fools such as these.

Now that's what I call Indian values.

Dilli Haat

*posted by Kayd

If you're a fan of shopping than you'll love Dilli Haat. Dilli Haat is known for its hand goods and great food from all over India. It's atmosphere is very similar to that of the Festival of Nations in Minneapolis. We met up with a bunch of Abhrajeet's family members in the Haat on our last evening in Delhi to get in some last minute shopping.

What is absolutely awesome about India is that most things don't have a fixed price. Sadly, every time I showed my Western Face, all the prices jumped up... Thank goodness that Priya was there to help me barter - she was truly a master. We picked up a lot of awesome items, including some clothes, jewelry, hookahs, and even Indian ice cream.

Thanks to Rono Mamu, Priya, Runa Pishi, and Ravi Uncle for an excellent time!

Akshardham: Government Sponsored Religion

*posted by Jeet

“…any attempt to bring all humanity to one method of thinking in spiritual things has been a failure and always will be a failure.” – Swami Vivekananda

Today we visited what was arguably the strangest religious institution I have ever been inside: Akshardham. The project was orchestrated by the BAPS (Bochasanwasi Shri Akshar Purushottam Swaminarayan Sanstha) movement, a collective of Hindus who donate a certain portion of their income to the movement in order to preserve its cultural heritage. Akshardham is a massive mandir, one of the largest in the world, and was completed in 2004 after an incredible effort put out by thousands of Indian craftsmen, artisans, and laborers. The architectural work is absolutely insane – every square inch of the mandir deserves praise and attention. Thousands of images of gods, sages, and animals are etched into the massive walls and domes of Akshardham. In addition, the sprawling mandir grounds are host to beautiful gardens, filled with fountains and various sculptural tributes to the history of India.

However, despite all the material beauty of Akshardham, I couldn’t help but feel like something was off – this place seemed to lack…well…soul. In the central and most ornate portion of the mandir stood a massive golden statue of a man who I could not recognize, despite my fairly decent knowledge of Hindu mythology and religion. Furthermore, after our self guided tour of the mandir we were given an animatronic history of this mysterious golden man, who we soon learned was the esteemed Swami Narayan, the man who this entire temple was a tribute to. No bullshit with the animatronics either, it was like the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland, except with more subtle religious brainwashing. After the animatronic history lessons we were lucky enough to have a short boat ride (yes, boat ride, what the hell!?) through Vedic India and learned more about the greatness of ancient India. Despite the weird Disney feel of things up till this point, I was still pretty excited about the whole experience – after all I do love India and I do love Hinduism…so what was the big deal, right?

Anyways, following these history lessons came the most bizarre portion of the mandir visit: a 50 minute movie narrating the life of Swami Narayan which emphasized his values and divinity. Even weirder was the constant reassurance that Swami Narayan’s immaculate teachings had been passed down “through an unbroken lineage of spiritual masters!” The last time I checked there is no central Hindu “Pope” - hundreds of thousands of spiritual guides and teachers have existed throughout Indian history. At this point this shit just didn’t feel right – it was like the entire Akshardham experience was trying to create an entirely new Hindu godhead for the next millennium of Indians, an immaculate example for all to follow (Praise Jesus!). It seemed that there was some sort of hidden agenda in this towering new place of worship.

Overall, the entire experience was devoted to teaching the visitor about this Swami Narayan character. Everything elevated him to the highest level, and we were repeatedly told that his values can guide the world to a better tomorrow. Frankly, I agreed with every single value that was being purported, but it didn’t change the fact that Akshardham was trying to turn a man into an all-knowing godhead – something which doesn’t really sit well with most of the religious traditions of India.

My biggest concern about Akshardham is the fact that, although it technically preaches what I would consider universal values (non-violence, devotion, spirituality), it does so in an overbearing manner which threatens to alienate millions of Indians of all religions, both within the country and abroad. I can only hope this alienation has no physical backlash - the Akshardham in the state of Gujurat has already been a victim of terrorist attacks by extremist Muslims, attacks which became highly exploited by the BJP party of India, a Hindu nationalist party that has caused quite a stir in Indian government in recent decades.

Also, one final thing to note, before I end this massive post: none of my grandparents, including my 94 year old, all-knowing history buff Dadu, had too much to say about Swami Narayan besides the fact that he was a popular spiritual teacher among certain groups of Hindus. Interesting, right?

Regardless, I bought a few books about the godhead's teachings - hopefully the true essence of Swami Narayan is easier to swallow than the in-your-face religious fervor we endured during our trek to Akshardham...

“Believe nothing until you find it out for yourself; that is what Raja-Yoga teaches us. Truth requires no prop to make it stand.” – Swami Vivekananda

Nerula's

Today we hit up the best ice cream chain in Delhi: Nerula's. This spot was a favorite of Abhrajeet's when he was a baby, and he got the same exact thing he got back in the day, some sort of lime ice cream soda or something. Regardless, it was delicious.

The Land of Bhang

*posted by Jeet

Mathura - birthplace of Krishna and one of the holiest cities in India. Ever since I first began planning this trip to India, Mathura was on the list of destinations. The city has intrigued both Indians and foreigners for thousands of years and is ancient in its practices and way of life.

In general I had three overarching goals for our short excursion to Mathura. First, I wanted to bathe in the Yamuna River and see the infamous riverside of Mathura, where the temple ghats go on for many kilometers. The Yamuna is another of India's great holy rivers and bathing in it is said to free oneself from the anguishes of death. My dad had told me that there were also giant tortoises, which sounded pretty awesome too, considering my lifelong love for giant reptiles.

My second goal for the trip was to smoke out with a sadhu. That's right, I wanted to smoke charas with an Indian ascetic/wise man. Charas is high quality, hand made hashish made from the resin of the cannabis plant (in India, the cannabis you find is straight indica, in case my fellow connoisseurs were wondering). Cannabis has been used for spiritual, recreational, industrial, and medicinal purposes in India for thousands of years, and many sects of sadhus utilize different forms of the plant during meditation and spiritual contemplation.

Which brings me to what my third major goal for Mathura was: I wanted to find some bhang. Bhang is basically the leaves and flowers of the cannabis plant mashed together into a paste and is used extensively in drinks during religious ceremonies and festivals in India, in particular the festival of colors, Holi. It is without a doubt the most natural form of cannabis ingestion in India (charas and ganja are both smoked). The god of destruction himself, Shiva, is said to be quite fond of bhang, so much so that one of his titles is The Lord of Bhang. Legit, legit, legit.

Both charas and bhang are available legally throughout India at special government authorized shops. Prior to India's recent adoption of some of the absurd cannabis prohibition laws of the West, all three forms of cannabis were easily obtained throughout the country without legal consequence or harassment. It's amazing how thousands of years of cultural tradition were abandoned to appease the international community, especially since alcohol and tobacco run rampant throughout modern India. Unfortunately, the increased regulation of the plant has only led to more corruption within India's law enforcement - obviously demand and usage of cannabis remains about the same. Luckily, bhang still seems to be a pretty normal and acceptable thing across India - nearly every single person we mentioned it to had something good to say about their own experiences with bhang. Free it up America - it's a first amendment right, and that's no joke.

So back to our Mathura journey.

Mathura is only a short drive from Vrindavan, where we had stayed overnight in the ISKCON mandir complex. After a delicious vegetarian meal at ISKCON's restaurant (one of the central goals of the ISKCON movement is to spread high quality and tasty vegetarian food to all) we checked out and were on our way to Mathura in order to find ourselves some ancient wisdom. Or so we thought.

Once we got into the outskirts of the city, we realized that we really had no idea where the Yamuna River was. My cousins even suggested that we had seen all there was to see in Mathura - there was no river, no sadhus, no bhang. Just a couple of dirty streets, one mandir, and some cows. I was told there was no holy city here - no birthplace of Krishna. But I was adamant - I knew the mythology of this city, and I hadn't traveled across the world for nothing. So, we asked somebody which way the river was. He said we'd have to drive about 12 kilometers and then he'd personally guide us down to the river/tortoises. Bullshit. I said we'll drive/guide ourselves. Remember, EVERYONE in India is a hustler - if you want to do something right, you have to do it yourself.

Of course, after driving the 12 kilometers to another part of the city, we asked another person where the river was. He said we had to drive 12 kilometers back (to where we originally were) and then walk about 4 kilometers down to the banks of the Yamuna. God dammit. So we turned around and went back.

Finally we got back and I was all set to go, along with Arny and Katie. But wait, my cousins didn't seem too keen on making the mini-pilgrimage through the dirty, crowded, and tiny streets of Mathura - where the car wouldn't be able to take them.

Good thing I didn't care, and neither did Arny or Katie.

In fact, Katie was the one who led the way as we started walking through the city. My brother and I followed excitedly, while my cousins got in a rickshaw for the short journey. It seemed like their cushy Delhi upbringing had severely alienated them from the more raw and real side of India. Whatever, the three Americans were having a blast. This is what I had been waiting for - let's get lost in a holy city. Now that's a trip.

Finally, we made it, there was a river! And it was awesome, so why not take a boat ride - there were a bunch of guys with boats trying to get some business. There weren't any sadhus around here, nor were there tortoises, but the boat owner told us that there was bhang nearby, and that we could get some for the boat ride. Awesome, where at? Oh, just right around the corner, at the government authorized shop. Boom baby - balls of squished up ganj, and plenty of people lining up to buy some.

We bought two giant balls of bhang for the American equivalent of about 50 cents, and took them over to a neighboring water/soda shop. There, we paid about 20 cents and the guy made us a couple of drinks using about a fourth of the bhang we'd just purchased, and we were ready to go. Fellow bhang purchasers gave me some glances/words of approval and encouragement, and the whole transaction was pretty baller/hilarious. My cousins suddenly lost interest after seeing the balls of gooey ganj, but again, I didn't really care. Bottoms up.

From there was the boat ride, and it was truly sublime. What a fantastic end to our Mathura journey - short, sweet, and bhang-filled. My brother and I even took a dip in the middle of the river, which means we hit two holy rivers plus the Bay of Bengal at this point - spiritually cleansed indeed. While we relaxed on the river with our drinks, the boat driver told us that everybody in Mathura drinks bhang everyday. The first drink is in the morning, which keeps them happy till around 4:00 PM, and then the second drink keeps them happy till they go to sleep at night. Hilarious. Well done India.

After the boat ride was over we took some rickshaws back to where our car was. Of course, before that, I went back to the soda shop and had another drink made - for the road. Things hadn't even really kicked in yet, but when they did early into the car ride back to Delhi - damn. Shit was intense - and awesome. We had some great conversation, some great relaxation, and some great laughs throughout the ride back to Delhi (don't worry, we had a driver), as we listened to some awesome Indian tabla. Mathura had been amazing - we got lost, we got found, and we got bhang. Easily one of the best days in India.

Hare, hare!