Following the Rivers to Rishikesh, 16 May 2007

The morning was entirely targeted to getting ready as early as possible to attend the prayers at the school. The evening before, as our kids were roaming the extremely safe main road of Loha Jung, they had bumped into Dev (the Danny who drove us from Rishikesh to Loha Jung). They made a deal with him to drive us back and reserve the best seats for us (not that they had to as Lien would never let the best slip away from us!) After a quick breakfast, we set off for the school and stood in line with the children. All I can say is that these children had a touch of the divine Himalayas in them. As they walked in they not only touched their teachers feet but also that of all us adults. The pranams of the first child at my feet, brought in a mixture of feelings—I was touched to tears, awed by the innocent and heartfelt respect they showed, and felt unworthy of it—all at the same time. Our girls stood in line with them with folded hands as we joined them in the prayer and the pledge that we would serve our country. The teachers were equally warm in their interactions with us and one of them gave me a poem in Hindi. As we said goodbye, they invited us to come again in 2010, when the Devi was said to come down to the plains from her mountain abode. We wished we could and hoped inside that we were blessed enough.

Back to the bus—we had indeed got the best seats and our luggage in the back rather than the top to avoid getting our clothes wet again. Priya also made sure that all our walking sticks were safely put in as we intended to carry them back home. I walked to one of the shops to show the girls some pictures of the Roopkund lake and the skeletons that had been found there, had a last look at the mountains and got into the bus. But woe of woe—Lepi was missing. Lepi was a Leopard of the very soft varieties who had seen Meena through the tough times she had during her walk up, her bout with mountain sickness as well as the times she missed her Papa Bear moving us all to tears. Lepi walked with her, slept by her side, hugged her when she threw up and was last seen attending the prayers at the school. Then he just disappeared. Lien and Aparna had looked to no avail. Meena’s lovely grin had disappeared and her face was buried morosely into her backpack. It was a sadness none of us could take so I jumped off to have another look for Lepi. After scouring the path that led up to base camp, I met some of the Goans who shook there head when given Lepi’s vitalstatistics. I asked Appa, who for once stopped singing at the seriousness of the issue—he said he has seen something spotty “over there”. Over there, on a wall was Lepi. I ran back to Meena and reunited the snow monkey with her leopard—the smile, hug and sloppy wet kiss I got was more than enough succor for what I had to experience in the bus journey ahead. Winding roads no matter how picturesque, bus no matter how experienced the driver is, and me no matter what my mental resolve—we do not go together—if we have to, then there have to be plenty of sick bags.

The less said the better—Priya patiently handed me bag after bag, wet tissues, and water with a stoic stare. Her tender looks were reserved for Ayesha who got sick too and must have been silently cursing me as well because she kept asking me continuously if this was hereditary. “Why me?” was what she lamented in between bile breaks. I have no idea how Liz was faring but I could see the lovely Aparna, wilted into a crumpled heap in her seat. The Hargopal sisters continued to maintain their dignity and elegance in the front seat, once in a while standing up to check on the rest of us. Lien had bounced back to her natural self after her descent from the mountains, complete with the choicest expletives for the conductor whenever he forgot to shut the bus door. Narayan, the PT teacher was getting ragged by all in the bus for his archaic attitude to girls—he apparently had asked the girls to go learn cooking rather than attend the PT class. In a busload of girls with only Speedy for a male companion, he was totally defenseless. Priya tried to rescue him several times as it was her fan club who formed the majority but after that we just let him get lynched.

It seems there are seven holy rivers in the Himalayas—Sapta Samudrik Tirtha comprising of the Alakananda (Vishnu Ganga), Dhauli Ganga, Nandakini, Bhagirathi, Pindar Ganga, Mandakini (Pindar), and Nayar are said to have flowed from Lord Siva’s head. The prayags we passed are various spots where the Ganga meets different rivers on her journey to the plains. There are five prayags, which are located between Rishikesh and Badrinath:
Dev Prayag, where the Alaknanda meets Bhagirathi.
Rudra Prayag, where the Mandakini from Kedarnath meets the Alakananda.
Karna Prayag, where the Alakananda meets the Pindar Ganga (from the Pindar Glacier). It’s named after the brave Karna, who prayed to his father, the Sun god here.
Nanda Prayag, where the Nandakini and Alakananda meet. Ravana is said to have done his penance here as well as Krishna’s adopted father King Nanda.
Vishnu Prayag, where the Dauli Ganga meets the Alakananda river (from Badrinath). There is a road here through the Niti Pass that takes you up to Mount Kailash, a place I someday I hope to go.
It’s in Allahabad finally that Ganga meets with the Yamuna and the whimsically mythical Saraswati to form the Triveni Sangam.

We had passed the first four Prayags on our way to Loha Jung and now we would get to see them in the reverse order. We followed the Pindar River as it flowed by with unmatched grace, meeting the Alaknanda over white sandy banks. We saw the tall pines and conifers stand guard, as the hills on both sides made way for the rivers. We saw perfectly polished and shaped pebbles in natural heaps and houses rise like quaint little turrets alongside the banks. We saw a massive Shiva statue looming over his temple, hand positioned in dispensing universal blessing--temples dotted the roads we drove on perhaps a confirmation that this was sacred territory. We saw the distant hills melt into the blue sky, bidding us farewell—all this in between jumping out of our seats not in excitement but because of the extremely temperamental roads and the consequences of it thereafter. I at least at this moment was dying to get back into the plains before I died of the puke plague.

When we reached Rishikesh in the late evening, the holy little town was lit up like birthday candles on a cake. It looked lovely but we were way too tired to do anything else but admire it from a distance. When Danny the driver finally stopped near our bus to Delhi—we were all relieved. The girls, I and Priya were too tired to protest when Preeti oversaw the transfer of luggage and chucked our faithful walking sticks away. The group made its way to the café where dinner was to be served, and we were pointed to a restroom on the road if you could call it a restroom. It was a cylindrical tin outfit with a door and served as a restroom for all the nearby fruit and what not vendors in the vicinity. Amazingly it was spotlessly clean and amazingly it had running water definitely siphoned from the holy Ganga . Maybe the cleansing Ganga had ingrained in her nearby residents clean habits too. As I led her to it, I heard Ash say in a very very resigned way—“Mimi, do we have to go in a telephone booth?” After the rocks, the shrubs, the trees, and mountains—I think we had seen it all. Now it was time to go to Delhi.