Category: Uncategorized

Luxman Jhula, Rishikesh  5/4/08

I see a lot of Israeli women travelling all by themselves all over India, so I can say just the same: Ho Israeli Women!

Israeli women and men are second nature to tourism in India. Proudly all the good restaurants will add to their menu: Israeli Salad, Chumuse, Schnitzel etc. It means clean and fresh food.

Every Taxi driver will say with a big smile on his face: Israeli women are very beautiful!

But today I am writing about Indian Women.

The women In India wear the most colourful saris, also they wear lots of jewelery, hearings, bangles, fresh flowers on their hair, jewelery on their hair and feet etc – one big spectacle of expression of femininity!

Women in saris are extremely feminine, goddess like, I would say they look desirable and even sexy.

It’s not a matter if choice to wear sari, that’s the only possible alternative. The Indian men look a bit grey and dull compere to their women, but they have the choice – they can choose to wear traditional wear or ordinary.

Only in Bangalore I saw young women in trousers sitting by themselves in a coffee house! Woo!

Women will not sit in public places without their husbands, mother in low, or a member of the family.

One sincere Indian man said to me while waiting for the night train (after he questioned me about my journey): We won’t let a woman go on a journey all by herself! No way!

Of course it is impossible for an Indian woman to travel, as the position of the women is very different. All marriages are arranged marriages, some are arranged as young as the age of six (6)!
As young, the woman are under the rule of the father, but as soon as the woman-child gets to the ‘right’ age and her marriage is arranged, she passes to the husband’s family responsibly, and moves to live with the husbands family.

Saris are wonderful, rich, colourful, feminine, etc. – all that to the westerner’s eye, but to the Indian woman it’s not a choice. It’s the only choice! Women builders, women cleaners, women in politics, women in all kinds of professions will wear sari, it can just differ in the quality.

I was waiting for the night train in Bangalore train station. It’s the town of technology & highTec, it’s like the Silicone Valley of India. They are a lot of very poor people searching for money around all train stations, there is city within a city of the very poor.

I saw a couple – a husband and wife – both bar foot, looked very poor, walking around the station. The husband was walking pretty fast, up and down a long the platform station. His wife just hardly kept his fast steps and rhythm, she kept walking two steps behind him, to my western’s eyes it was out of fear, her face was bitter and painful. The platform was over crowded with hundred of passengers waiting, but he did not turn his face even once to see if she is behinds him.

1/4/08 Luxman Jhula, Rishikesk

Before down the sitar sounds were heard in the Gangas valley river.
Celestial wonderful music woke me up.

It was dark completely, and even the birds didn’t wake up yet. This wonderful sounds woke up the Gangas river, the Temples, the Gods, the birds, the town, the people and me. Than additional other instruments joined – flute, drums, very light bells and an horn – that was the way I wake up this morning. Only later the first bird hesitating raised her voice, and than the second, the third etc. The time now is 06.00 AM and the sounds are loud, happy and alive. A few ducks raised their voices, like a family talk, dogs started barking, and than at last a proud raven – announcing loudly the awaking new day! A rang of lovely birds in a random added their sweet singing. In that natural singing of nature, the sitar went on in a constant flow like the water of the river, moving slowly, quietly and powerfully. 

The Holy River and the Holy City are awake. A vast caw’s smell conquered my room for a short time, than soft bells hanging on cow’s necks heard very near my window.

My room in Sant Sewa Ashram is nothing special, but I choose it because of the veranda facing the Gangas – that’s what matters! 

There is a reason that the people of India see the Gangas as Holy, it’s the source of life. The river brings good spirits, it renewing itself each day, it brings down to earth celestial feelings.

With the wonderful sitar I hear now a woman’s singing, it crests the peaceful valley. The cradle of modern humanity started by the river. Especially in India, one sees and feels it – the river is like the heart of the place. People are drinking the water, washing themselves there, washing their cloths, having happy & sad times by the river. By the shallow water of the river you can see an elephant having a good time, donkeys, cows, sheep, dogs etc.

The Gangas river changes his colours, moods and spirit just like a human being – I heard that from an Indian man – when it overflows after the winter, one day the Gangas is happy, on the next day – smiling, and than he can be full of bad temper.

3/4/08

People forget to treat the river Ganngas with honor and respect – a police man said reporting of a missing man. Around 17.00 PM a young visitor, just arrived to Rishikesh, left his bags with his friend, and jumped into the river, full of excitement.

He smoked a bit… but he was full of love to the world, I know him – said the hippie that looked after his bags. The water can swallow pretty quickly – said the police man, we’ll continue searching tomorrow. We saw the man going into the water, the river looked calm – said a child at the age of 8, him and his young brother 6, the kids of the hippie saw the man going into the water, and than he disappeared. Their faces were extremely sad.

The police man arrived at the reception of my Guest House late that evening, asking about the man. Yes, a young Turkish guy came to ask for a room, but he changed is mind and went swimming first.

Carma! Said the police man.

4/4/08

Today people were talking about the quick disappearing of a young man into the river – at list he went into the water with a smile.

31/3/08 Luxman Jhula, Rishikes

There is something very special in Rishikesh.

The full effect is definitely on the other side of the river – in Luxman Jhula and Ram Jhula.

It feels like a small place and even feels intimate, on the other hand it’s very busy full of colours, people, sounds, smells – the best description will be dull, and it’s not possible even to show that in photos. (we need all the senses!)

The Gangas River looks quiet and powerful, lays like a spread king on its bed; between all the goddesses around him = the dark green mountains, the temples, the hum of praying, and the Jewels are the people & the rocking hanging bridges.

I moved to the other side of the river, in a Guest House in Luxsman Jhula. All that view & sounds welcomed me, even the beggars looked happier, at list less miserable than in other places. There are temples for every one; big, small, tall, colourful, lots of Ashrams, lots of doctrines, different types of Yoga etc. Each one can find the right measure of ‘food for soul’ that he needs.

The city is crowded with Hindus that came to visit the holy city, not just tourists, and that’s special.

One can find the strangest type of people here. Each one have his uniqueness and there is a space for every one, somehow it blends to a nice harmony, that gives peacefulness to everyone.

The Israeli Doctor

30/3/08 Rishikesh

At my first morning in Rishikesh I got up to a loud cry of a child.

It was very painful screaming voice to hear and to wake up to, but the main thing was that most probably it was a very painful reason for that child to cry up so loud, I thought.

As I did not like the room I stayed in, at that family Guest House, I packed my stuff to move to a better room in a near by Guest House. I had my morning shower on ease, I got my stuff ready to move, but all that time the cry of the child continued. It was a loud painful cry.

I went down to settle the account. A group of women were sitting on a scruffy sofa in the entrance of the house. Some young woman and one older woman that was probably the grand mother. (Also the mother-in-law, as in the Indian tradition the women join the husband’s family… but that’s another story.) There was one young woman in charged on the lettings of the rooms, but she was chasing a very young child, at the age of two, that was screaming Loudly.

Way’s the child is crying? I asked.

He got burned with a boiling tea. She replayed.

Can I see? I asked.

She showed me a naked bum that was marked badly with hot tea.

Do you have anything to put on it? I asked.

Nothing. She replayed. All the women were looking at me with great interest.

I have something! I said and opened my big bag.

I took out my Kupat Cholim ‘department’ and gave the woman the Desitin past.

She covered gently te cream on the burned area.

Than I suggested that she will put clean SOFT pants on the young boy.

The medicine calmed the boy, but maybe also the attention that was given the child eased his pain and he stopped his crying.  He was looking all ever with his big eyes.

Are you going to see a Doctor? I asked.

I never see a Doctor! She replayed with confidence.

Put the kid to sleep. I suggested and left.

As I felt for that young painful child, I came after some hours again. The women were sitting at the entrance.

The Israeli Doctor came! Called the mother of the child, and the boy was brought from another inside room. The women were smiling at me. The child looked sleepy.

I came on the next day as well. Each time I came I was greeted with loud voice: The Israeli Doctor came!

Today, before leaving that side of the river, moving to Luxman Jhula, I went to see the kid.

I do have the Cream! the woman said to me in a nonchalant voice.

I went to see the Doctor! She said proudly, and moved on to her busy Sunday morning duties.

26/3/08 Rishikesh

last I am in Rishikesh!

I heard so much about the place, and longed for it, that it’s like coming home, strangely enough.

I travelled from Delhi, hardly sleeping in the long night train. It’s not light yet, and there is only one sign in English that passed rather quickly, so it’s a bit like gambling… I arrived to Hariwar, just a bus ride from Rishikesh. I got off the Train. It’s the first place that’s got Electronic boards with Red writings, & the trains time table!!! So modern!

Immediately I got help with my bags after a short negotiation.

My bags were dropped off and again I am in the centre of hustlers. I will take the bus! – I said and they quickly evaporated. The blanket of the sleeping town changed into a thin veil, and the voices of the awaking town got louder. I got into the bus with the early workers, it’s 06.00 AM. A woman with Krishna picture, candles and scense sticks is bagging for money. After a 40 minuets ride I got to Rishikesh. The main road is still asleep. In the corner there is a gathering of men round someone selling hot tea. They smoke cigarettes & chat. I didn’t know were to go. I did not prepare my homework properly…. I read the Lonely Planet again and again but it made me more lonely & more disorientated. I sat on a stone, looked and stared at the world, than smoked a Beedy (a local hand made cigarette), just like the Indians.

It seams that I put all my attention on how to get there and not where to go to. I waited for a miracle, that didn’t came so I made my move… 

On arriving at last to the Swiss Cottage Guest House I met 2 men of my age group. (It’s only common to meet women travellers, not men!) After a short chat in English the Hebrew accent gave them away. One of them was very unhappy in India, he complaint about every thing. I thought to myself – it’s very important to blend, to except the rules & customs of the place & the local people. If a Tourist wants to go with his own habits he should have to hire a car & a driver and to stay at a 4-5 stars hotels… other wise he have to accept the local customs, rhythm etc.

“We have to be nice to you – you are our guest!” – That’s a mantra I heard from locals saying it to me with a smile, and I think they really mean it.

Whenever there is a talk about our political situation in Israel, if we are seen as provocative (in most cases), aggressive etc. I always suggest: Come to visit Israel, blend with us for a while, than you will understand us!

Blending does not mean one looses his identity, but seeing the other.

I am trying to read the local papers, to see a bit of television, to read local literature, all to understand the place I am visiting, trying to blend a bit.

It means trying to listen, to see the other, hearing his special voice & sound.