So we're in Khajuraho now, in northern Madha Pradesh, the heart of all that is North India. It's an oven outside so we're hanging out under the fan in the internet cafe - funny how internet cafes can be either saunas or oases.
Our last few days in Pachmari were heavenly, and we didn't want to leave. We climbed two mountains, the first approached by 1350 concrete steps and topped by a Shiva temple surrounded by tridents (Shiva's weapon) of every shape, size, and color. There were also many Rhesus monkeys there, one of which stole part of our lunch (samosas) right from under our noses. If you are unarmed, they are fearless, and will bare their teeth in a terrifying grimace when threatened. If you pick up a rock, however, they leave you alone.
On the way back another big thunderstorm rolled in behind us, but rather than run for shelter, we decided to brave it out in some ornamental gardens. Well, it started pouring HARD, then HAILING (in the tropics), but we donned our rain jackets and were out in the thick of it the whole time, running around like idiots, howling and summersaulting. An older Indian man gave us quite a strange look. Check Kyle's blog for pictures, as his camera is waterproof.
Two days later we were climbing again, this time up the highest mountain in central India, Doopgargh. We took cycles to the trail, stopping at a beautiful waterfall en route. The climb was easy, the view from the top sublime, the wind refreshing. We took some fun photos then went down again. At the bottom we decided to search out a gorge that Kyle had spied from the summit. En route we saw a Guar, a very large, rare ungulate with a jet black coat and white lower legs. It stared at us and we stared at it for a while, then it walked away into the bushes, leaving us amazed. We found the gorge alright, and ended up enjoying its cool humidity for a few minutes before having to race the sunset back to town. This proved more difficult than expected, as someone had let the air out of our rear bicycle tires. Apparently it's a pretty common thing to do in India, don't ask me why.
The next day it was off to Khajuraho, by bus, train, a night in a hotel, and another bus. Unfortunately I got sick on the train and ended up spending a couple hours in the toilet rocking to the rhythm of the tracks with my head in my hands. I purged my digestive tract of what felt like every ounce of fluid it contained, and was quite pale as we stumbled out of the train in Satna. Thankfully Kyle kept me warm with his sleeping bag, took care of the luggage, and bought me liquids to revive myself, and the next morning I felt much better...until we discovered that we had no cash, both our ATM cards had been cancelled for unknown reasons, and nobody changed traveler's checks in Satna. For a moment we were one of India's poor, wondering where we would get our next meal or sleep our next night. We considered which of our belongings we could pawn. Eventually though, we decided to risk travelling with me not completely recovered so we could get to Khajuraho where money changing facilities awaited. The trip proved uneventful and we were rescued from our mini-crisis.
On the way to Khajuraho Kyle met Sandeep, a 19-year old Brahmin from the local village, and also a husband and father of one. We have spent the past two days in his company, sharing our meals, visiting his home, and talking. At first I was a little suspicious but the kid has grown on me and I'm fairly sure he has no malicious intentions. He's struggling to find a job but is otherwise in a fairly good situation, by Indian standards: his father has a steady agricultural income, he has a roof over his head and a high school education.
Today we're off on Sandeep's motorbike to visit the "Pink Village." Tomorrow maybe we'll climb a nearby mountain, the following day go to the famous Khajuraho erotic temples, and then it's back to the trains for Varanasi, the holiest Hindu city on the banks of the Ganges and Sarnath, the place where the Buddha gave his first sermon. Then Agra, for the Taj Mahal, and finally northwards to the Himalayas, my own temple.
I've been thinking a lot about religion. I'm reading this book called "City of Joy", I'm constantly surrounded by religious people, and I admire very much how religion can lead people to suffer valiantly and sacrifice themselves for others in need. But so far even all this has ceased to make me a religious man. I try to give, and be selfless, but I don't think I can do what the main character of this book did, just give up the western life, settle in an Indian slum, and try to help the people there. It is not my place, and I don't have the strength. Instead, I hope to worship in my mountain temple, and help it and its denizens to survive.
I look forward to seeing you all again.
Love,
Josh
