Wednesday 26th October 1983
The only memorable event of this mornings train journey was a lecture on the Hindu religion from our neighbour in the compartment. With the aim of some pictures he explained his pilgrimage consisting of a 14-mile barefoot walk to some sacred elastic cave that expands or contracts to fit the visiting pilgrim comfortably.
Subsequent research reveals that the Amarnath cave, located in the Indian state of Kashmir, is one of the most famous shrines in Hinduism. Dedicated to the god Shiva, the shrine is claimed to be over 5,000 years old and forms an important part of ancient Hindu mythology.
Inside the main Amarnath cave is an ice stalagmite resembling the Shiva Linga, which waxes during May to August and gradually wanes thereafter. This lingam is said to grow and shrink with the phases of the moon, reaching its height during the summer festival. According to Hindu mythology, this is the cave where Shiva explained the secret of life and eternity to his divine consort Parvati. There are two other ice formations representing Parvati and Shiva's son, Ganesha.
The cave is situated at an altitude of 3,888 m (12,760 ft), about 141 km (88 mi) from Srinagar, the capital of Kashmir. It is a popular pilgrimage destination for Hindus - about 400,000 people visit during the 45-day season around the festival of Shravani Mela in July-August, coinciding with the Hindu holy month of Shravan.
Devotees generally take the 42 km (26 miles) pilgrimage on foot from the town of Pahalgam, about 96 km (60 mi) from Srinagar, and cover the journey in four to five days. There are two alternate routes to the temple: the longer and more traditional path from Srinagar, and the shorter route from the town of Baltal. Some devotees, particularly the elderly, also ride on horses to make the journey.
During the past fifty years, the ice Shivlingam has shrunk in size. While weather does affect its shape and size, many environmentalists blame global warming for the condition.
He went on to try and explain complex tales of eight-armed Gods and Goddess’s, Ganesha the elephant-headed Hindu god of beginnings, evil dwarves and beheaded disciples. George and I were hard-pressed to believe that people took this toffle for Gospel! But it explained how difficult it must be for Indians starting a new life in Britain to explain to their children what their religion entailed when their contemporaries were Church of England Christians. If you were an Asian born in Birmingham and grown up there, it must be near impossible for your parents to sell this bizarre religion with it’s elephants and serpents to you.
A typical Hindu text seemed to be “Arjuna then saw the omnipresent and omnipotent Supreme Personality of Godhead, Mahā-Viṣṇu, sitting at ease on the serpent bed. His bluish complexion was the colour of a dense rain cloud, He wore a beautiful yellow garment, His face looked charming, His broad eyes were most attractive, and He had eight long, handsome arms. His profuse locks of hair were bathed on all sides in the brilliance reflected from the clusters of precious jewels decorating His crown and earrings. He wore the Kaustubha gem, the mark of Śrīvatsa and a garland of forest flowers. Serving that topmost of all Lords were His personal attendants, headed by Sunanda and Nanda; His cakra and other weapons in their personified forms; His consort potencies Puṣṭi, Śrī, Kīrti and Ajā; and all His various mystic powers.”
After a while we had to seek refuge on the top bunks, which were three high in each tier, from the interference of this man’s 5-year old daughter. Cute as she was, we tired of smiling as she poked and prodded us in curiosity.
At 13:30 hrs. we pulled into Old Dehli railway station and battled through the usual press of touting taxi-drivers, hotel owners and ne’er-do-wells into the street. Here we struggled along through 5 km. of crazy crowded dirty roads with all the usual ingredients: cattle, bicycles, tricycles, carts, beggars, etc. All of them hooting, calling out and generally promoting a colossal hubbub.
Old Delhi or Purani Dilli is an area part of the greater city of Delhi, India. It was founded as a walled city named Shahjahanabad in 1639, when Shah Jahan (the Mughal emperor at the time) decided to shift the Mughal capital from Agra.
Sweating and weary we made Connaught Square, and after a cold Campa Cola, I set off to find “Ringo Guest House”, leaving George feeling weak and worse for wear, to look after our baggage. We were now in New Delhi which is an urban district located in the city of Delhi. New Delhi serves as the capital of India and the seat of all three branches of the Government of India. The foundation stone of New Delhi was laid by Emperor George V during the Delhi Durbar of 1911.
If you come to Delhi and do not go to Connaught Place, then you have not seen the modern part of Delhi. It is in a round, circular shape with three concentric circles. All big corporate houses have their offices in Connaught place. All branded restaurant and shops are located here and Ringo Guest House was the place to stay according to Lonely Planet. After a long trudge and fruitless search around all of the three circuses I returned to where George was sitting and we took a 3-wheeled taxi to the place (which was well hidden).
We booked into a double room which had just been painted and leaving all the doors and windows open (to prevent asphyxiation tonight from paint solvent fumes) we went out in search of sustenance. A boiled egg curry was rapidly consumed in a grubby little hole with poor service before we went on to tour some of Connaught Place. George bought a good plastic map of India, but we decided that the Lonely Planet “India” guidebook was too heavy and too expensive.
We settled for a coffee in a clean airy place and watched the European travellers in their hippyish local garb come and go (we ‘ates ‘em we does!). We had one uneasy moment when an urchin appeared at the door near out table with a cobra rearing menacingly from the basket he carried.
We browsed around the outermost ring of Connaught Circus and whiled away long periods in a couple of bookshops until this was curtailed when the power went off and the shops were plunged into darkness.
After another cup of tea in the Dehlicacy Café we returned to the Guest House. Initial attempts at a peaceful reading session were thwarted when an ugly Yank hippy chick struck up a wailing dirge to very amateur strumming of a guitar. We had a coffee out in the common hall, but we retreated to our room as the Yankie girl and another weedy hippy bastard appalled us with their chatter.
They chortled at religion, discussed dope and guitar prices, and generally made sure that they were the centre of attention with their loud moronic drawl, interrupted only by pulls on the communal “roach”. When the male of this comedy duo mocked suicide and requested a razor blade in jest, I was almost moved to “do the honours” with my Swiss Army knife and put the miserable wretch away for good.
We fled to our room before aggressive physical action was further provoked and tried to relax despite murmurs and caterwauling guitar songs from the common room and the constant giggling from pot smoking girl in the next room.
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