The Kumbh Mela (Again), a Villge Walk and Driving to Lucknow
21-Feb-2013
The Kumbh Mela Revisited
Driving There
India |
Uttar Pradesh |
We bumped back over the field, but this time turned right towards the main road; without Seema to talk us through the roadblocks we had to take
the official route. It took ten or fifteen minutes to reach the edge of
Allahabad where city-bound traffic heads up over a flyover and Kumbh traffic filters
left on a single lane threaded through the piers of the flyover towards the
riverside suburb of Sangam.
Our Uttar Pradesh journey took us from Varanasi to Allahabad, Lucknow and Agra |
A lot of traffic wanted to get down that single lane, and the usual Indian drivers’ response is to generate more lanes. A single lane can easily
accommodate two cars and a third can be made by co-opting the dusty verge. As
we arrived a fourth lane was being created, causing several stallholders to hurriedly
re-locate their pitches.
Four lanes of traffic worked well enough until they came to squeeze between the concrete piers. The gaps allowed one, perhaps two smaller cars
to pass at a time. The traffic locked solid. Every driver knows that to solve
this problem they must edge forward while leaning on the horn.
Inch by hard-won, cacophonous inch we shoved and jostled our way through. On the other side sanity returned and we set off for Sangam only to find our way barred by a policeman. Without Seema to smooth the way we had to do as directed and ended up in a car park within sight of the flyover.
Before we left the car the driver wanted to give us his mobile phone number, but although our phone was happy to show a welcome message from India Telecom, it refused to make or take any calls or texts so there was no point. I am not sure what we would have talked about anyway as we had no words of any language in common. Instead we synchronised watches and, by turning hands and pointing, agreed a time to return.
The Walking Part
With no real plan, we decided to follow the general drift of the crowd. We did this for an hour.
Garlands for sale on the walk to the Kumbh Mela, Allahabad |
We became absorbed in the colourful, good natured crowd, strolling along in sunshine that was warm but gentle enough for it to be ideal walking weather. Our companions were all sorts and conditions of people of all ages, united in their pilgrimage. Some were laden down and obviously planning to stay for some time. We saw food, cooking equipment and mats to sit on all bundled up in a sheet and carried on peoples’ heads.
Passing a temple and a fort on the way to the Kumbh Mela, Allahabad |
We passed through tented areas lined with stalls, some on trolleys, some laid out on the ground, and small business sections with makeshift banks and police stations, a temple and a fort dating back to the raj.
At the Kumbh Mela, Allahabad |
Eventually we reached the river. Looking at our watches we realised we could stay for ten minutes before starting the long trek back.
Bathing in the Ganges at the Kumbh Mela, Allahabad |
We wandered round, soaking up as much of the atmosphere as was possible in the time, then set off towards the car.
Starting the long walk back, Kumbh Mela, Allahabad |
Driving Back
The driver was waiting. Back at the flyover the congestion was as bad leaving as it had been arriving and we soon found ourselves solidly
jammed between concrete piers. To our right was a handcart piled high with
fruit, its pilot resting against the pier breathing heavily. To our left a bevy
of sari clad matrons sat in a trailer behind a large green tractor. Nobody was
moving, the air was loud with the sound of horns and thick with the fumes of
diesel, particularly around the unfortunate man with the cart.
Then our driver did something remarkable, and I am still not sure how he did it. He reversed out of the traffic jam. It was obviously
impossible, but somehow his determined application of the horn prised open a small
space and he just backed out. We returned to the car park and set off again on
a slightly different trajectory. Amazingly we slipped through with relative
ease and came out on the main road only thirty metres down from the earlier
impenetrable jam. We could still see the green tractor and the bright colours
of the women’s saris; they had not moved an inch.
The remainder of our return trip was reasonably swift and we arrived in time for lunch. We had been out for just over four hours and spent
ten minutes at the kumbh. It should have felt like a wasted morning, but
strangely it did not. Our experience was similar to those of many ordinary
kumbh-goers and it somehow felt right and appropriate.
Idling Away the Rest of the Day
We paid off the driver, had lunch and enjoyed a rare afternoon of inactivity, sitting outside our 'Swiss cottage' and reading until the sun forced us to read inside.
A relaxing read outside our 'Swiss Cottage' |
At dusk we walked down to the Ganges.
The sun sets over the Ganges, Near Allahabad |
I became involved in a deep and serious discussion with these two, though I cannot remember what it was about.
Serious discussions beside the Ganges |
22-Feb-2013
A Village Walk
The next morning we walked to the village that lined the road to the highway.
Maybe we arrived on dung cake day - or perhaps every day is dung cake day. Buffalo dung is the main fuel for cooking and it has to be collected,
patted into appropriately sized cakes and set out in the sun to dry. Outside
every house a woman was engaged in this activity. The girl in the picture had
been working alongside her mother until we arrived, but she stopped to pose for
a picture. When we passed again at the end of our walk she was sitting on the
wall eating a bowl of rice with her fingers. I like to think she washed her
hands in between.
Taking a break from the dung cakes, Village near Allahabad |
The camp, filled largely with middle class Indians but with a good sprinkling of foreigners, had been nearby for over a month, but we
caused so much interest it was clear that few, if any, of our fellow campers
had bothered to investigate the lives of their temporary neighbours.
A young man invited is into the village temple and exercised his limited English showing us round. It was very basic, but if it lacked the
grandeur of the great temples we had visited, no one could question the
devotion and piety of those we saw there.
In the village temple |
Leaving the temple, we continued up the street. Any child nothard at work on dung cakes insisted that we take their photograph.
A girl who really needed to be photographed, Village near Allahabad |
A man dragged us into the courtyard of his home, sat us down and called his wife and many children to come and greet his unusual visitors. Language
difficulties meant the conversation was stilted, but we smiled, said what a fine
collection of sons and daughters he had and generally tried to exude goodwill.
Lynne with our host, his wife and two of his children |
Outside we met a lad who assured us his brother was Sachin Tendulkar. He did not fool me, and I thought of telling him I was Ian Botham,
but he was probably too young to have heard of Ian Botham.
Is this Sachin Tendulkar? No |
We took more photographs…..
Plenty of material for dung cakes, Village near Allahabad |
….. and were invited in for a another sit down by a man with fewer children, but with a bent and aged grandmother who emerged from the deepest
recesses of the house to have a good look at us. She did not seem very impressed.
A child we had photographed on our way up grabbed us again on our return and insisted we photograph her friend and little sister (or brother?) too.
We have seen this girl before! |
We were a novelty and everybody who could spare a moment from their dung cakes came to have a look. It was all very friendly, many hands were shaken and much goodwill expressed all round and we returned to the camp with the warm glow of knowing the world is filled with nice people who want nothing more than to get along with each other.
The village street |
A Longer Ganges Walk
In the afternoon we took another walk, strolling for a mile our two beside the Ganges. We met a man taking his camel for an airing..
Walking a camel beside the Ganges, Near Allahabad |
...and a group of women carrying sacks of rice on their heads. I do not know where they were going but they arrived from the distance before us and disappeared into the distance behind. It was a long carry for heavy bags.
Carrying rice beside the Ganges, Near Allahabad |
Litter is the curse of India. The detritus of the Kumbh, decaying garlands and the presssed leaf cups used to hold candles offered to the sacred river, will soon decay; plastic bags are another matter. And then there is the other pollution, industrial and human; pollution that cannot be seen but can sometimes be smelt.
Beside the Ganges, Near Allahabad |
The secular authorities know there is a problem, the religious authorities recognise it too, but little is done. Swami Chidanand Saraswati
wrote of the Holy Ganges in the Times of India 'it is time to pay back and
protect and preserve her precious and pristine waters.' The waters may be
precious but it is many decades since they were pristine. Action needs to be
taken urgently.
We met this pair on their bicycle who demanded I take their picture, and a rather pleasing picture it is too. It is a shame they could only see it on the scratched and battered screen on my aged camera.
Beside the Ganges, near Allahabad |
Dinner was another unimaginative vegetarian buffet, memorable only for causing Lynne to make the short journey to the toilet
several times during the night. I slept well - except when something jumped on
me. It then went under Lynne's bed and scrabbled out the door of the tent. I
shuddered and hoped it was not a rat. There had been a little rain and the beast
left a muddy footprint in the doorway of the tent. It was definitely no rat, you
might think it was a dog, I prefer to believe it was a leopard.
Obviously a leopard. Surely. |
23-Feb-2013
Driving from Allahabad to Lucknow
In the morning another driver turned up to take us the 200 kilometres to Lucknow. Indian roads do not make for fast travelling and it took all day, but that mattered little - there is always something to see, and we are usually moving slowly enough to see it.
On the road to Allahabad |
We stopped at 11.30 at an open fronted tea shop packed with customers. Traditional Indian tea is made with condensed milk and is strong and
sweet. Provided you do not think of it as being tea, it makes a surprisingly
refreshing drink on a warm day. As in most street tea stalls the tea came in
earthenware cups, the ultimate recyclable material; throw it on the floor when
it is no more use and it returns to the dust from which it was made.
A very Indian cup of tea, Teahouse between Allahabad and Lucknow |
Later we came across a working party cutting down a tree. The traffic had been stopped by men with red flags but this being India the cars
and motorcycles behind him had spread over both sides of the road and were
starting to colonise the verges as well.
The massed ranks ready to charge. On the road from Allahabad to Lucknow |
After much sawing and pausing and pondering and sawing again, the tree crashed to the ground as the sawyers dashed for safety.
The tree crashes and the sawyers run, On the road from Allahabad to Lucknow |
I had watched from the middle of the road so I was in prime position to observe the cavalry charge as three lanes of traffic each way
headed for each other down a two lane road.
To the accompaniment of blaring horns the tide swept around me and battle commenced. Our car pulled up, I stepped inside and we joined in.
We reached Lucknow in the late afternoon as drizzle started to fall. The city of 6 million people is the capital of Uttar Pradesh; it is
also the birthplace of Cliff Richard, though other important events took place
there which will feature in the next two posts.
We checked into our hotel in Hazratganj, the city’s main shopping area and had time for a stroll before darkness fell. Our first
impressions were not very positive, which may have had something to do with the
weather. Many of the rather dowdy shops had security guards outside, some with aged firearms,
others with lathis. There were beggars, too, several of them quite persistent,
though the lathi wielding guards were quick to chase them away.
Hazratganj, Lucknow |
We dined at the nearest restaurant to the hotel. It was a ‘family vegetarian’ restaurant which meant another day without meat and beer. It was, we realised too late, a perverse choice. It also did little for Lynne’s stomach problem.
Part 1 Delhi (1) Mainly Old Delhi but some New Delhi too
Part 2 Delhi (2) Some Old Things around New Delhi
Part 3 To Mughal Serai and Sarnath
Part 4 Varanasi
Part 5 Allahabad and the Kumbh Mela
Part 6 Allahabad (2) A Bit of Foot-slogging
Part 7 Lucknow (1) City of Nawabs
Part 8 Lucknow (2) La Martinière College and the British Residency
Part 9 Agra and the Taj Mahal
Part 10 Fatehpur Sikri
I had an amazing time at Camp City Prayagraj! Roomy tents, excellent facilities, and outstanding Eracamps service!
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