Darjeeling is amazing set in the foothills of the Himalaya in northern India. The oncoming monsoon season brings with it great rain and, sometimes, lightning storms. I snapped this pic on one such night.

China, I thought, preferred to keep visitors out; many Southeast Asian countries invited foreigners in, with ambiguous wink and smile; Japan smilingly greeted visitors at the door and appeared to admit them without ever really doing so. India, by contrast, took in all the hordes and simply swept them up in the undifferentiated tide.

-Pico Iyer, Video Night in Kathmandu, p 281

The one land that all men desire to see, and having seen once, by even a glimpse, would not give that glimpse of the rest of the world combined.

-Mark Twain on his 1st visit in 1896

I love the hill stations of India. Darjeeling, set at 2,128 meters, is no exception. Started by the British as a sanatorium in the 1800′s, members of the East India Company used it to escape the summer heat of Calcutta. My trip would accomplish much the same.

The district of Darjeeling has 450 km of international borders with Nepal, Sikkim (part of India), Bhutan, and Tibet, plus Bangladesh nearby. The Gorkhas first controlled the area which explains why Nepali is the lingua franca.

Looming in the distance, on a clear day, the world’s third tallest mountain, Kangchenjunga, looms large.

In Twain’s time it took two weeks to make the journey from Calcutta to Darjeeling, negotiated by boat, palanquin, and pony. Today the area is dominated by the four T’s: toy train, tea, timber and tourism.

The 80 km long Darjeeling Himalayan Railway was established in 1881 runs from Siliguir to Darjeeling on a narrow-gauge rail. This sloooow train takes 8 hours to make the total run,lumbering at 10 mph. It’s much more of a tourist ride or for rail enthusiasts than functional since shared jeeps are the fastest way to get around.

Before the train, local Hindu inhabitants worshiped rocks as deities. With the advent of the train, carved statues and idols could be imported.

Perhaps the most famous aspect of Darjeeling is it’s tea production. This is the only place in the world where the blend of climate, elevation, and soil type produce it’s famous “muscatel” flavor. The tea industry started here when one Dr. Campbell planted Chinese tea from Kumaon in 1848. His instincts were to be correct. Today there 148 tea gardens in operation. The lush jungle also contributes significantly to the economy with its timber production.

Tourism is a big business. In my opinion this is one of the most enjoyable parts of India I’ve visited, but tourist numbers are not really that large. Most tourists probably head for the Taj Mahal (check my picture!), the beaches of Goa, Bombay’s glitzy shopping and so on. But its a real shame to miss the cool, green hills of Darjeeling.

[Sources]

• Darjeeling: Truth and Beyond by Sanjay Bisway and Sameer Roka

Tongba is the traditional and indigenous drink of the Limbu people of eastern Nepal. To Limbus, Tongba is analogous to what vodka is to Russians, wine to French, Guinness to Irish and saké to Japanese.

-Wikipedia

Photo Courtesy davidheidebrecht

What to do when in Kathmandu when it rains? Drink tongba, of course! Tongba is the traditional alcoholic drink made from millet. It’s cooked and fermented, then dried and stored for about 6 months.

Tongba is drank out of large wooden containers (also called tongba) with tall straws crimped at one end to filter the hot water thats poured on top. As you drink, more water is added to top it off and keep the taste from becoming too strong.

They are great for cold and rainy days, since the drink really warms you both, both physically and in spirit.

According to legends, chhaang is also popular with the Yeti, who often raid isolated mountain villages to drink it.

Photo Courtesy in.beleza

Back when I first visited Nepal in 2006, I met a local villager named Ram. You can see Ram and his house in Episode 2 of the video series I created about that trip.

On that trip and after my trek was completed, I went back to the village and Ram took me to meet a sadhu living in the hills nearby. For some strange reason, the video I took of that disappeared.

This time around, I contacted Ram again and went back to see Baba Srinath again.

I’ve mentioned these sadhu’s before and find their way of life fascinating. The Sanskrit term sadhu refers to “renouncers who have chosen to live a life apart from or on the edges of society in order to focus on their own spiritual practice” (Wikipedia). They are ascetic practitioners of yoga who can be found in caves, forests, and walking the streets all over the Indian sub-continent. An estimated 4 – 5 million sadhus are in existence today.

One problem is that many “fake babas” also walk the streets. Since they are considered holy the population of India considers it a noble act to donate money and food to the sadhus. They approach houses and business asking for some small alms, such as a handful of rice. Some take advantage of this, dressing in their finest sadhu gear.

Nevertheless, Baba Srinath is most definitely one of the more genuine sadhus around. For the past 30 years he has lived on his current hilltop with a gorgeous view of the Kathmandu Valley spreading before him. You read correctly, he has lived on this hill, never coming down and spending most of his timein one room, for 30 years. Before he ascended the hill permanently, he spent time living at the foot of the hill running menial tasks for the Baba that lived their before him, much like another sadhu performs for him fetching needed supplies from the surrounding area.

Somewhat unclear view from Srinath’s.

I brought him some sugar, like the first time I visited, and he in turn gave me some of the most delicious tea I’ve ever tasted. I’m sure his recipe is no secret, but I have no idea what he puts in it.

Srinath’s abode.

His surroundings include a couple of buildings, including the one he spends the most time is (pictured above). A trident shrine and a lingham, both dedicated to Shiva, sit nearby. Fresh running water is routed through the middle of it all and a short climb up some steps leading higher lead to some small caves used as shrines.

Inside his room, Srinath sits smoking an incredibly large chillum, placing coals from his fire on top. I’m told the fire is never allowed to go out. Among his gear in the room is a radio, though I don’t know what he listens to.

Locals and military men from the nearby cantonment come to Baba Srinath for advice and religious teachings. My first time there I found some men discussing some Hindu holy texts, and this time a young girl prone to tears and her mother approached for advice on some matter.

One interesting story was related to me about Srinath and another, more famous Baba living in Kathmandu. There is one such Sadhu who goes by the name of Milk Baba (real name: Shri Ram Krishna Das). Baba is the Hindi word for ‘father’ and given to those of perceived spiritual importance.

Milk Baba is called thus because, for the past 30 years, he has existed on nothing but milk. His natty and dreaded hair, when not wrapped around his head, falls well below the length of his body.

Now, Milk Baba and Srinath have different approaches to their religous convictions. Srinath lives rather solitary upon his hilltop. Milk Baba, on the other hand, drives around Kathmandu on his scouter and travels the world giving lectures.

About 8 or 9 years ago, Milk Baba came to visit Srinath. I’m not sure what they spoke about, but the two did not find each other amiable. Milk Baba refused to drink Srinath’s tea and eventually parted in disagreement. They haven’t met since. Interesting meeting for two approaches to the same thing.

So thats all I know about Baba Srinath. Find him if you can…

Some local kids.

With my Indian visa quickly expiring, I decided to take heed and depart Benares. Off to Nepal I head for a refresh of both my visa and head in the crisp mountains.

I entered the train station to await my train to Gorakhpur from whence buses will complete the journey to Pokhara and then Kathmandu. As I entered the crowded station I noticed a monk in auroral attire monitoring the entrance to the platform. He quickly engaged me in converstation about my destination and our plans were the same: journey to Kushinagar on the Indian side to visit the place of Buddha’s death and to Lumbini on the Nepali side where Buddha was born.

“Yes, okay, well then- just follow me, ok? I’ve been here several times!”

And just like that I met Master Roy, a monk born in Singapore living in Taiwan for many years and my companion for the next several days. He now lives at Taipei’s famed White Cloud Temple. With him was another Taiwanese pilgrim, a woman of about his age, whom he was escorting around the famous Buddhist pilgrimage points of India and Nepal.

Master Roy

Master Roy is certainly eccentric and friendly- and doesn’t he resemble Bob Hoskins, the actor from Who Framed Roger Rabbit? At the station, I thought of my freshly shaved head under my hat as I watched Master Roy apply generous amounts of some kind of oil upon his own shorn dome. It was bound to happen. With a smile I unveiled my cranium and accepted a coating of his Sri Lanken lube that left me shining like a cue ball and Master Roy chuckling with pleasure.

At both stops, Buddhist countries and organizations have spent large amounts of money to build temples of their own style. In these temples it is possible to stay and eat, donation appreciated. Master Roy has been to these sites several times and thus knows where to stay, who the head monks are, and what to see. I couldn’t ask for a better method of visitation.

Kushinagar

Our first stop was Kushinagar. Guatama Buddha would achieve parinirvana here at the age of 80 in 483 BCE. Parinirvana occurs upon the bodily death of one who has attained complete awakening, escaping samsara or the cycle of reincarnation.

According to tradition Buddha would take his final meal, either that of pork or mushroom, from a blacksmith and fall violently ill. Sensing the end was near, Buddha would instruct his attendant to convince the blacksmith, Cunda, that the meal had nothing to do with his death and was in fact a source of great merit to provide the Buddha with his last nourishment. Buddha told his disciples at his death to follow no leader, but to follow his teachings (dharma). Today, the Parinirvana Temple marks the spot of his death with a statue inside.

“All composite things pass away. Strive for your own liberation with diligence.”

-Final words of Guatama Buddha

Parinirvana Temple, Picture courtesy Wikipedia

Picture courtesy Wikipedia

Sleeping Buddha Detail

Buddha Feet

Makutabandhana, the cremation-site. Picture courtesy Wikipedia.

Over the centuries, warring invasions left the site destroyed and jungle retook the surrounding countryside. In the 1800′s, English attached to the East India Company rediscovered the site and eventually made the connection from the ancient texts that this was in fact the site of Buddha’s death.

Of interest, The Maitreya Project aims to build a 152 meter tall statue of Buddha that will surely bring many more pilgrims to this holy site of Buddhism. The Statue of Liberty is 46 meters tall.

Lumbini

So we left Kushinagar, where we stayed at the Burmese Temple, and continued across the border of Nepal to Lumbini. This is the place of Buddha’s birth and is much more vibrant in feeling and community. We first stayed where all traveler’s rest their heads, the gigantic Korean Temple. This temple can accommodate large numbers of people in several housing building and boasts a concrete reconstruction of a traditional Korean temple. Though this was fine, we eventually used Master Roy’s connections to get us into the still under-construction Vietnamese Temple.

And what a temple it is. Vast amounts of money are creating a sort of Buddhist-Disney compound with slightly trippy statues, a crane pond, and huge main temple with dragons, lotus, and mountain sculpture.

View from top of Vietnamese Temple, looking onto the grounds.

Local resident of the Vietnam Temple

Surrounding the holy sites of Lumbini are large monastic zones separated into Theravadin monasteries on one side with Mahayana and Vajrayana monasteries in another.

But we came to see the birthplace of Buddha, where Queen Mayadevi delivered young Siddhartha (“he who achieves his aim”) in a pond. She was on her way to her father’s kingdom to give birth, as custom of the time. During the celebrations over his birth, a hermit seer predicted that the child would become either a a great king or a great holy man.

Birthplace of Buddha.

Buddha’s Exact Place of Birth, picture courtesy of Wikipedia

The modern site boasts a Bodhi tree, an Ashokan pillar to mark the visit of the great king, a bathing pond, and a temple housing a marker for the exact site of Buddha’s birth.

Under the Bodhi Tree

Countryside

I ended up staying longer at these sites with the company of Master Roy and his travelling companion. He is a first class individual and a prime example of one of the first tenets of Buddhism: charity. So it was with some hesitance I took my leave and continued into Nepal. Hopefully I can meet Master Roy again when I visit friends in Taiwan.

Guru-jee Rakesh

When staying for an extended time in Varanasi, what to do…. Observe Hindu cremation rights? Check. Wash in the Ganga? Check. Listen to the Dalai Lama lecture? Check.

Since it is India, if I were to turn to the Goddess of knowledge, music and the arts the answer would be in her hand. Sort of. The Goddess Saraswati holds and plays the veena, a plucked string instrument that looks very much like it’s more famous cousin, the sitar.

In fact, during my time here a Saraswati Festival was held over several days. On the first, she appears out of the Ganga River. The middle days, she dances about. And on the last day, she returns to the Ganga which the citizens represent by throwing 10+ feet tall statues of Saraswati into the river and chugging whiskey in the streets.

Considering up to 5 years ago my Facebook stated “I want to learn to play the sitar” it seemed like a no-brainer though actually my interest started much earlier…. Like many others, my interest in the instrument was sparked by its inclusion in 60′s rock. Most famously, The Stones used it in “Paint It Black” and the Beatles in “Norwegian Wood.” Pandit Ravi Shankar rose to international fame as the teacher of George Harrison:

After searching the city, I found a nice, relaxing place about ten meters from the main burning ghat, Manikarnika. Sarcasm is a subtle mistress, so let me explain: I previously mentioned the heightened frenzy with which Varanasians interact with foreigners. Around the main washing and burning ghats you find some of the most relentless of these denizens. Combined with eye-watering smoke from the pyres and cattle using the steps as pasture, it may not seem the best local for a music school. Yet the owner, Arjun, is genuine bloke and the teacher he uses, Rakesh Mishra, has an approachable teaching style.

Sur Sarita Music School

Window view of pyre wood.

So lets play some sitar. First some mechanics. The full-size sitar is 42 inches high. Number of strings can very, mine has 7 main and chikari strings that are actually strummed or plucked. The remaining 12 lie recessed in the neck and are sympathetic strings. That means you don’t actually play them, but through the vibrations of the instrument they create a complex harmonic resonance that is further amplified by the toomba. The toomba is the bulbous end of the sitar made from gourd (also called the pumpkin). Another toomba can optionally be attached to the top of the neck, but this is often only decoration on lower model sitars and made of wood, not gourd.

Photo Courtesy Wikipedia

Toomba

Indian classical music is new to me and differs quite a bit from Western style. There is more emphasis on single instrumentalists with a percussion accompaniment, tabla in the case of sitar. There is a highly evolved methodology using scales with note names Sa, Ra, Pa, Ma, Dha, etc as opposed to Western Do, Re, Mi, Fa, etc.

You’ve probably heard the term rāga, which is a “series of five or more musical notes upon which a melody is made” (Wikipedia). Rāgas are associated with different times of the day in the Indian tradition and really should only be played during the correct time. The mood created by the rāga corresponds to the environment; slow building morning rāga, fast paced afternoon rāga, and middle of the night rāgas that are slow but can explode with activity.

The first thing I learned was alankar, which are basically exercises that move up and down the scales in patterns. These are the building blocks of Indian classical music and are inserted at certain points during a rāga. They vary in difficulty and are how a player shows of his skill. In fact, many serious students will only practice this for years and years before taking on the actual rāga.

Only one string is really plucked on the sitar, the bottom sting, but sometimes a second is used. With only one string, this means the music is quite linear going up and down the scales. The sympathetic strings create the unique sound of the sitar and the very top chikari stings are strummed at the correct places to create even more resonance.

Like the guitar, it takes sometime to build up a callous on your left index finger. The string you pluck is thick metal and really wears painful lines into your finger. A band aid was required for much of my practice time. But you develop a groove in your finger and are soon sliding up and down. In addition, a mizrab is used in the right index finger. Like a guitar pick, this wire apparatus also digs into your finger and is used to pluck the main string. This hurts too.

With little time, I bought a notebook, slapped a sticker of Saraswati on it, and filled it with lots of alankar exercises, notes on tuning and mechanics, and several easy rāgas. I hope to have enough that I can continue on my own for some time, with the help of internet instruction, to teach myself for the time being. I’m sure sitar lessons in the US will be much more expensive than India.

I’m more interested in fusion music with the sitar, that is taking Indian classical instruments and using them in a Western musical environment. This is how the early fusion players, like the amazing John McLaughlin, popularized the instrument in the West. Today, Prem Joshua is a very popular fusion player. I’ve loaded lots of Indian Classical and fusion onto my iPod so I look forward to exploring these styles of music more.

Sweet Child O’ Mine on the sitar

I also attended a couple Indian Classical concerts in Varanasi. One featured a very fine sitar player, who to the distaste of most kept a couple white guys on stage. Fine, but one only sat in front of is MacBook, eyes closed, monitoring the recording of the performance. Weird.

Another was held where I stayed at Munna House and was organized by many of the people staying there since so many are music students. Lucy and Israel had a cool jam session of flute and hang drum (one of the best instruments period), a table and harmonium set, and the final by a longtime English sitarist who played the immense surbahar. The surbahar is like a bass sitar; larger, heavier and deeper sound with intricate demon head carvings on the top of the neck. The devil’s sitar.

Varanasi provided me a great opportunity to become acquainted with the sitar and Indian classical music in general. I ended up purchasing a sitar and shipping it to the US, so I can’t wait to get my hands on it again!

When I jumped a train and rode three hours out of Varanasi to Allahabad, I knew I was going to a very large Hindu religious festival. Little did I know it would be one of the largest gatherings of people in human history, if not the largest.

An estimated 70 million people (!) attended the 45-day festival to wash in the place where the Ganges and Yamuna Rivers meet. A third mythological river, the Sarasvati River, is also said to join them here.

According to Hindu mythology, gods and demons fought a celestial war spilling nectar from a pitcher, or kumbh, at Allahabad and three other places. The festival rotates places every few years to these spots with this one being a “Half Pitcher Festival” or “Ardh Kumbh Mela.” A larger festival, the “Maha Kumbh Mela” or “Grand Pitcher Festival”, takes place every 12 years.

The pictures here are of the temporary tent city that sprang up to house all these devotees. Food stalls, religious tents offering teachings from gurus, latrines, water access, roads, bridges and everything else have been constructed specifically for this event.

I journeyed with a couple friends and we rented a tent for two nights. This is the first time in India where I have found little to no English being spoken (but we had a Hindi speaker with us). I literally saw no other foreigners the three days I wandered the site.

Its quite strange to have crowds gather around you to stare when you are doing nothing. Going about normal activities like having lunch or reading a book, people would just stand around looking. The “landlord” of our tent site and his family would often just burst into our tent late in the evening or early (4 a.m. early) in the morning to see what we were doing. Huh?? Very annoying and he got some snarly responses which he only understood by tone of voice. And he tried his best to get all the rupees possible out of us.

Trying to ignore the spectators

The Kumbh Mela was a great experience filled with people full of religious fervor. Gurus could be seen carried in chairs on their followers shoulders. More than 20,000 police were on patrol. Sadhus were in full power, smoking chillums and preparing bhang, including groups of Nag Sadhus who renounce even their clothes.

Naga Sadhus from ’98 Mela, Courtesy of Wikipedia

And yes, I did take a dip. With boxers on, I dunked myself in the cold river waters and (possibly) emerged sin free.

[More info and sources]

1. BBC: Millions Bathe at Hindu Festival
2. Washington Post: Millions of Hindus Wash Away Their Sins
3. Gods, Gurus and the Ganges: Report from the 2001 Mela in Allahabad

Varanasi Natural Mystic, Photo by Mark Hickman

A week into Varanasi I packed up and moved to where I intended to stay in the first place. I met two well-trodden travelers in Dharamsala who refer to Varanasi as their home since they have spent so much time here and I followed their precise instructions: down river from the main ghat, up the stairs of Narad Ghat, and through the unmarked broken blue doorway. Welcome to Munna House!

This is by far the best place to park yourself in Varanasi if you spending a bit longer in the City of Lights. Its filled with longer term travelers who are foremost a musical bunch and furthermore just great people. The proprietor, Munna, is someone who will always treat you fair. A rare breed indeed.

That said, your mother would cry if she knew you were staying there. At 70 RPS a night, its the cheapest you’ll find but the trade off is you should provide your own sheets and everything else you may need. Cleanliness can be a bit lacking, but again keep it the way you want it. Its not a place to drop in and expect to get a room (though I was very lucky doing just that).

Probably the longest term resident is Jeevan, the best looking street dog you’ll find in Varanasi. Munna House is about five stories high with the center being hollow. Jeevan, which means “life” in Hindi, fell through two stories has a young pup and managed to keep his despite, hence the name. He is quite a smart dog and knows how to sit and shake. His son also takes residence here and is noticeably lazier and more docile. The dogs tend to have the run of the place and enact a passive resistance when being moved that would make Gandhi proud.

Jeevan

Since Munna House is located in between ghats right on the Ganga River, the view is breathtaking from the upper floors. Some nights the moon reflects clearly in the river and on others an ethereal fog rises like Shiva’s breath and limits visibility to less than 100 meters. Sitting outside on such a night, perched on a ledge over looking the river and ghats, the electricity gave out (like it does every night). Instantly I was plunged into a foggy dreamworld that felt like I was in a floating city since the ground could not be seen.

And it is Shiva’s City too. My favorite of the Hindu pantheon, Lord Shiva is a major player as the god of destruction with whom creation would be impossible. The Ganga River is said to flow from his hair.

Its logical that Shiva’s city would be a center of death, and indeed two main burning ghats cremate bodies 24 hours a day. Mourners purchase wood (Sandalwood being the most expensive) and see their loved ones off to the next plane. Its not uncommon to be sitting in a cafe and a group of chanting Hindus walk by carrying their deceased loved one on a stretcher while you sip orange juice. The highly recommended movie Baraka contains moving images of these rites as well as others of Varanasi.

Manikarnika Ghat, the main burning ghat

Inside Shiva Temple near Manikarnika

Shiva is worshiped in several forms, and one of the most common is the lingam. It is generally accepted that this represents the genitals of the god; it’s a phallic symbol.

Shiva Lingam

Another interesting aspect of Indian culture is the use and consumption of bhang. Essentially its the leaves and buds of the female cannabis plant and is eaten, smoked, or drank in a lassi. What is most interesting to me is that the government condones the sale of bhang through special shops.

Government Bhang Shop

Ganga Bath

My timing was perfect to arrive in Varanasi because just 13 kilometers away in peaceful Sarnath, the Dalai Lama arrived to give lectures from January 8 to 14, 2009 at the Central Institute of Higher Tibetan Studies. His focus was Arya Asanga’s Compendium of Higher Knowledge and Shantideva’s Way of the Bodhisattva.

When I visited Dharamsala, I mentioned I caught a brief glimpse of the DL when he returned from a speaking tour abroad. This time I had the opportunity to sit 100 meters from him and listen to him speak.

First 5 disciples of the Buddha at the Deer Park of Sarnath, showing their respects to the Wheel of the Dharma, Photo Courtesy Wikipedia

Sarnath is one of the four main places of pilgrimage in Buddhism. About five weeks after attaining enlightenment, the Buddha journeyed to Sarnath where he delivered his first sermon to his disciples. Today the Dhamek Stupa inside a deer park marks this spot. It is said a Bodhisattva offered himself as sacrifice to a king in exchange for the life of a doe he was planning to kill. Thus moved, the king created a sanctuary for deer that still exists today.

A Bodhisattva, it should be noted, is an enlightened being who has chosen not to enter nirvana in order to help others reach enlightenment.

Dhamekh Stupa, site of Gautama Buddha's first sermon

The city is a short rickshaw drive away from Varanasi and I made about 5 trips to the area to see the temples, take in a fine museum, and listen to the Dalai Lama expound on the Dharma. Its quite a change from hustling, busting Varanasi with tranquil monks and deer parks. Finding transport for near the correct price was always a hassle, but once I shared a rickshaw back with some monks and they immediately got the correct price that I would have to spend 20 minutes arguing about.

The museum contains the most famous of the four-faced lion carvings that today adorn Indian money and passports as well as being the state emblem. This one is referred to as the “Lion Capital of Asoka” after the famous and successful Indian king Ashoka the Great who embraced Buddhism patronized these statues.

Lion Capital of Asoka, Photo Courtesy Wikipedia

Unfortunately, security was rather strict about no cameras. These days I am only carrying a larger SLR and video camera which are difficult to sneak in. (In usual fashion, a couple weeks into my journey my parents say, “Oh, we’ve got a pocket camera we could have sent you with the last package.” I shed a tear for the thousands of missed photographs.) So, I have no photos but it looked similar to this other photo of a DL lecture in Sarnath:

Photo by Taara

The lectures were conducted in Tibetan. To be able to listen, I purchased a radio and brought headphones since an English translation was being made on the fly. The translator did well, but it was quite a difficult task due to the complexity of the subject matter. For me, since I did not attend each and every lecture, the most interesting parts were the small asides and stories the DL would insert. He elaborated on his bodyguards, his recent sickness and hospitalization, and having jaundice, which turns you yellow. At one point he was describing a meditation technique where you focus on the tip of you nose. He warned, to the laughter of the crowd, not to go cross-eyed but that doing such was easier for foreigners since they have bigger noses. More than a few heads turned my way to check my own proboscis.

It was a great opportunity for soak in more Tibetan culture and really get to see the Dalai Lama. Other than the usual Indian hucksters, including a particularity creepy one, Sarnath is a welcome respite to chaotic Varanasi.

Mulagandhakuti Temple