Travels

The Gateway of India is one of Mumbai’s major landmarks and, as it was only a two-minute walk from our hotel, the first thing that Cathyand I went to visit. I never really did see it.

Gateway of India

Normally, it would be pretty hard to miss a massive 26-metre-high stone monument but the scrum that formed around me, and moved with me as I walked, demanded my full attention. Several people wanted to sell me tour packages, while others wanted me to buy their postcards, books, jewellery, and balloons. A bandy-legged “holy man” wanted to “bless me” by putting a red tika on my forehead and tying a white string around my wrist. I think some of “my” crowd just wanted to stare at me.

“No, thank you”, wasn’t enough to dissuade any of my entourage. Instead I had to keep moving to try to stay at the head of my own personal parade. Like a horse walking through bushes, I tried to brush people off by moving through the densest part of the crowd that surrounded the monument. Some did drop off, including the “holy man”, but new hawkers took their place.

I suspect Cathy found this quite amusing as, in this very male-dominated society, she was all but ignored in the mêlée.

As I walked along in the centre of this mini human storm, I was acutely aware of the expensive camera hanging over my shoulder. Not only was it a possible target for theft, it also identified me as someone who could afford $1 for a dozen postcards, or who might want to take a city tour. But then, with blue eyes and fair skin it was never possible to simply blend into an Indian crowd.

While the sales pitches were persistent, no one came near my camera. It was the first example of something that surprised us during our whole trip. Even though there is dire, extreme poverty in India, and even though as westerners and travellers we were obviously far better off than most Indians (but not all, witness the laser-red Bentley parked outside the hotel), the country seemed surprisingly safe.

While we took commonsense precautions, we never felt threatened or unsafe, even walking in the cities after dark. Undoubtedly, things that weren’t watched may have disappeared, and there are places that are dodgy, but we didn’t have any trouble. But the apparent safety really is surprising in a place with such a crush of humanity, and where there is so much need.

Built to commemorate King George V and Queen Mary’s visit to India in 1911, the Gateway of India has been a well-known Mumbai landmark since its completion in 1924. Arguably, the Gateway was also the place where the sun finally set on the British Empire as the First Battalion of the Somerset Light Infantry, the last British troops to leave India, passed through the Gate on February 28, 1948.

I was three-quarters of the way around the monument, and was beginning to think I was almost home free when, suddenly, the “holy man” was right in front of me. He’d taken a shortcut and intercepted me here.

He was quicker than me. The tika was on my forehead before I knew it. I let him put on the white string. Naturally, there was a “donation” needed for this service. He suggested the equivalent of $5. I gave him the 20 rupees ($0.50) I had in my shirt pocket. He didn’t seem that pleased, but then neither was I. He may have muttered some “unholy” things in Hindi.

Within only a few minutes of our first foray out and into the Indian streets we were back in our hotel. The cool and calm interior was a sharp contrast to the crowds, noise, smells, and heat outside. For a few minutes we collected ourselves together then, taking a deep breath, headed back outside for “India: Take 2”.

It’s surprising how quickly the exotic can become the ordinary. It wasn’t until we got to Pondicherry, almost a week after we’d arrived in India, that we saw our first elephant. We were pretty chuffed to see the great beast walking down the street passing pedestrians and dodging back and forth to avoid cars and trucks. By the time we left the country, seeing an elephant striding along, even a brightly painted or decorated one, seemed almost normal. In the temples we walked by them, hardly looking up, as they stood, probably bored to tears, shifting from foot to foot and blessing devotees for the price of a shiny coin. Even the thought of riding them started to seem pretty ordinary.

Elephant, Pondicherry

Temple Elephant, Madurai

Elephant Bath

But I must confess that I really don’t like being on the back of an elephant. Sure, the ride is pretty smooth and you do have a good view, but it’s a long way to the ground and I can’t help but think that the elephant is eventually going to say, “O.K., I’m done” and end the foolishness by rolling on us, or by grabbing us and flinging us to the ground.

It didn’t really help to hear the story about how one of the elephants that takes tourists up the hill to the Amber Fort in Rajastan snapped one day. A group of tourists were having their tour guide take photos of them on the back of the elephant when the elephant, perhaps having heard the click of a shutter one too many times, decided enough was enough, and killed the unfortunate guide.

We went up the hill to the Amber Fort in a jeep.

Even if I won’t be going out of my way to ride an elephant anytime again soon, it was a perfect place from which to see a tiger. We had hoped to see a tiger while we were in Corbett National Park but there are only a few left, and we knew the chances of seeing one were slim. On our first day in the park, we had been up at 5:00 a.m. to get through the gate by first light. We drove around the park for several hours but, while we did see some tiger pug marks, we didn’t catch so much as a glimpse of one of the great cats.

The next day, we were “picked up” at our hotel by an elephant, and went for a short ride in the forest nearby. We had been walking through the woods for a while, swatting mosquitoes and trying to avoid getting slapped in the face by branches, when our mahout signalled to us that our elephant had noticed something. Moments later, the mahout pointed to the thick bushes and the well-camouflaged outline of a tiger slowly emerged.

We could hardly believe our luck. Here, almost within shouting distance of our hotel, was one of India’s few remaining wild tigers.

Tiger

Unfortunately all is not well with the tiger. With the pressures of people and poachers, and with the last patches of tiger habitat being nibbled away, it seems unlikely that the species will survive to see the 22nd century.

Tiger Closeup

With its 1.2 billion people, and thousands of years of history, India is a boisterous mix of religions, languages, cultures and customs. And, unlike the fairly secular western world, religion is a central part of everyday life in India. As such, we visited a bewildering array of Hindu and Jain temples, Mosques, Buddhist Shrines, and Christian Churches. We even got to a Jewish Synagogue, and to a “Utopian” community whose central shrine looked like a giant golden golf ball.

One of the most interesting temple complexes we visited was the Meenakshi temple in Madurai. Said to contain some 33 million sculptures (who counted them?), and considered one of the finest examples of Dravidian architecture, the temple is dedicated to the goddess Meenakshi who was one of the re-incarnations of Parvatti, Shiva’s wife. (If you thought nuclear physics was complicated, try figuring out the how all the Hindu gods and their reincarnations fit together! I finally realized that Shiva is a man. Who knew? He has a feminine name, and all his statues make him look like a woman.)

Roof, Meenakshi Temple, Madurai

Haircut, Outside of Madurai Temple

Except for the fluorescent lights, and the occasional ring of a cell phone, the temple must be the same as it was 100 or 500 years ago. Devotees light candles and say their pujas, merchants sell their devotional wares, the temple elephant gives blessings, and the homeless stretch out on the hard stone floors.

Madurai Temple

Temple Shop Selling Devotional Items

Madurai Temple

In the evening we returned to the temple to see the ancient ceremony where the statue of Shiva is taken to Parvati’s “bedroom” for the night. The next morning the statue would be taken back to the place where it spends the day.

Night Ceremony, Meenakshi Temple, Madurai

Night Ceremony, Meenakshi Temple, Madurai

To get the “total night temple experience”, we rode to and from the night ceremony at the Meenakshi Temple in a bicycle rickshaw. It was uncomfortable enough, to our western sensibilities, to have a tiny man struggling to move us along the busy streets. It was even more alarming as, without lights, we darted in and out of traffic, and squeezed by buses and trucks with only inches to spare. To cross several lanes of oncoming traffic, our driver smiled and held out and outstretched hand. It was a bit like being in a tiny sailboat at night with no navigation lights in a shipping lane crowded with supertankers. At times, it was best just to close your eyes.

Rickshaw Ride, Madurai

When, somewhat to everyone’s surprise, we returned safely to our hotel, one of the other tour members remarked, “Well, I’ve had that experience, so I’ll never have to do it again!” Amen to that.