10 Weeks in...

Namaste,

Hope all is well in the native country with my American brothers and sisters. It's been quite an interesting last couple of weeks here in India, and I am currently about 1,500 miles away from where my last blog was written. I've spent a lot of time traveling, met a lot of incredibly nice as well as weird people, and had some pretty strange and cool experiences along the way. Please forgive me in advance for the ridiculous amount of text contained herein. It's kind of difficult to be discerning with so many new experiences happening all the time, and while some events are more interesting than others, I just try to share everything I find to be notable, which tends to be a lot. It almost makes me wish things were more boring here so I wouldn't have to spend so damn long sitting in internet cafes composing these hours and hours of text, but hey, life could be worse...

I left Rishikesh by bus right after I completed my last entry, and that in itself was quite an adventure. I arrived at the bus station after paying only 20 rupees (40-45 cents) for a 5km auto-rickshaw ride (guess my haggling skills are getting better), and was quickly pointed to the bus, which was crammed to capacity (or so I thought), but found what appeared to be the last seat and sat down with my huge bag with not an iota of leg or breathing room. Afterwards, about 30 more people managed to squeeze on, and we finally commenced the drive to Haridwar, which was about a 45 minute ride south. The ride was loud, bumpy, and generally as uncomfortable as it gets, and I was thankful for the short duration. I guess you can't expect too much luxury for 19 rupees though. I arrived in Haridwar at around 3:00, which from the bus stand seemed like a filthy, noisy and chaotic city, and I can't say my impression changed too much after my 2 day stay there. After shooing off about 90 incredibly aggressive rickshaw drivers vying for my business, I found my way to a hotel my guidebook recommended on foot (which was a small victory in itself), and after a bit of bargaining, settled into the reasonable (by Indian standards) hotel room. I figured while I was in town, I'd attempt to go see the big sights (mostly the temples and the big nightly aarti ceremony on the Ganges at the famed Hari-Ki-Pari bathing ghat, which is the sight of the Kumbh Mela, which happens every 12 years), so I set off shortly thereafter. I walked for a ways and couldn't seem to get past noisy streets and markets, so I went the other way in search of a bit of serence walking, and was quickly befriended by a toothless, 60-something "untouchable" (the lowest caste), who invited me to sit back at his friend's shop across the street. I was a bit wary at first, expecting him to try any way to weasel some rupees out of me or outright try to steal them, but since the owner's 15 year old daughter was there as well, I figured it was safe. The three of us ended up talking and hanging out for a good 2 hours, with them attempting to teach me many Hindi phrases, and asking many questions about my life and the west in general. They also had me speaking Hindi to customers and answering questions, which certainly seemed to confuse quite a few people, some being fairly unamused, but I found it to be pretty funny. The shop was like 1,000 others around town, selling little toys, trinkets, chillums and various religious paraphenalia for use in daily worship ceremonies. Despite lack of formal education on both of their parts, both spoke pretty good English, and were incredibly nice, giving me some bananas and some tea, and denying my attempts to pay for said items. The man's name was Bapu, and after telling him I planned to attend the evening aarti ceremony, he insisted we go together, as he goes every night, so I said 'why not', and we set out right before twilight. It was a good half hour walk to the sight, and we filled the time with him sharing tips on being careful in many situations in India, never to trust Indians, and telling me useful things to say to avoid getting cheated by merchants and drivers. On the way there, an incredible number of overly aggressive beggars persistently demanded I either give them money or buy them tea or sweets, but Bapu shooed them away and told me things to say in Hindi to get them to back off. Now don't get me wrong, I help out my fair share of beggars and disabled people (of which there have been many every where I go), and have provided some people with a good bit of help after they've explained their situations, but you have to draw the line somewhere, and if there's a crowd, one handout means 50 more hands in your face, so you have to do what you have to do. Also on the way, a large parade was taking place in celebration of the elephant god Ganesh. It included many richly decorated floats, and girls with intricately painted faces (some with elephant masks), and a large painted elephant leading the procession, as well as a marching band. Indians seem to love parades and festivals, and any excuse they can muster up seems to be enough for a large celebration, as I've since seen many times. Anyhow, we got to the ceremony, where 3,000-4,000 people were seated to watch the fireworks (not literally, but there was certainly a good deal of fire). After a group of uniformed men spent literally 20 minutes walking through the crowd asking for donations in Hindi (Bapu translated everything for me), circling the same path 15-20 times but insisting "give if you can, but if not, no worries", things got started. There was loud devotional music played over the speakers, and people would raise their hands up once in awhile in what resembled "the wave" at US sporting events, and shout their phrases of worship. On the other side of the river, several men in elaborate dress performed choreographed movements, and had large swinging torches they would spin in various directions, and these were eventually used to light people's offerings of flowers and other items on fire, and set afloat down the river on banana leaves. The ceremony lasted only about 20 minutes, so afterwards, we headed back through the crowded and noisy bazaar, and I offered to buy us both some dinner. We stopped at a pretty nasty grease-pit he recommended, and had all you can eat thalis, which consist of rice, chappatis, and various sauces and vegetables, for about 80 cents each. By now it was around 8:00, and Bapu told me to meet him in the early morning to explore the other sights in the city, and since I had nothing better to do and was looking to kill another day in Haridwar before my train left, I agreed. I went back to the hotel to hang out and rest, but an insanely noisy ruckus of music and singing, blaring unbearably loudly, was going on about 100 feet outside my window, so I decided to go onto the river ghat behind my hotel room to sit by the river and soak in the peace. The presence of numerous articles of trash/waste and overpowering smell of death and feces proved too great though, so, after being approached by about 40 different sadhus to buy drugs only a couple hundred metres from my hotel, I went back to my room. The noise didn't stop until 1 am, and while this, like Rishikesh, is a holy city (no meat, no alcohol, lots of religious fanatics, etc.), they do not seem to adhere to the same 9:00-10:00 bedtime, and shops stay open late into the night. I ended up sleeping quite a bit later than expected, and with Bapu not being at the shop when I arrived, I decided to walk around a bit by myself. I walked a couple of kilometres around the Ganges, and while the hills of Rishikesh in the distance provided a nice backdrop to the river, it couldn't come close to the beauty experienced just 25km north, and my whole time here I was unable to find a nice, quiet natural setting to relax, which was kind of a shame. After a couple hours of that, I walked back to my hotel, and bumped into Bapu right outside. We went back to the shop and sat for awhile and talked to the 15-year old daughter a bit (and after awhile couldn't help shake the feeling Bapu was trying to set the 2 of us up), and then we left. It had then become too late to go see the other major temple situated on top of a large hill, which you had to take an air-lift to get to), so I bought us another meal and he invited me to go sit down by some other, quieter ghats, and wash our hands and faces in the river. He told me he lived in Delhi for most of the year, shining shoes in one of the more popular districts, and came here a couple months out of the year to escape the heat and noise (though I can't say this is much improvement from my experience) and to come to a more sacred and "shanti" place. He seemed like a deeply religious man, constantly making references to his "Shiva god", and telling me jumbled stories of mixed Hindi/English about the power of Shiva and how he had helped him in his life. He then proceeded to give me a 1 hour lesson in Hindi, telling me some very useful phrases which I wrote down, as well as ones like "yes, today I have showered", which seemed to reflect more personal issues. He would randomly say devotional phrases in the middle of sentences, which seems a common trend among many fanatical Hindus, and after a good 2 hours of sitting by the river, I decided it was time to part ways. He agreed to meet me at the bus stand at 7:00 am to make sure I got on my train safely, which was very nice. On the way back, I met a Nigerian backpacker, who talked to me for a bit, and told me about Nigeria and the more developed parts of Africa, which I have to admit I am completely ignorant of. He said the dollar goes a long way there, the people are friendly, and it's becoming much cleaner and more welcoming to tourists, so something to think about for the future. After another night of loud devotional music played until 1:00, and a brief sleep, I woke up, packed up, splashed some water on my face, and met Bapu. We took a cycle-rickshaw (bicycle-style transport) for 10 rupees (definitely feel sorry for the drivers of these, so gave a generous tip), and he saw me off. I gave him a pretty substantial amount of money for his kindness and for his tough situation, and he told me where he shines shoes in Delhi, and invited me to come hang out with him when I go back to catch my flight home and said he'd show me around town and make sure I didn't get swindled too bad. I wouldn't recommend Haridwar itself, as it's a noisy, crowded, polluted, unattractive, and generally unwelcoming city for tourists and foreign visitors (the large majority of signs are in Hindi and most people don't speak English), but I was glad to have met Bapu, and he made my stay a memorable one.

The Haridwar train station was as filthy and chaotic as the streets outside, and there was, what appeared to be, cow shit all over the ground, and the smell to go along with it. After Bapu pointed me to my train and left, I struggled to find the right compartment, as I was a bit confused at never having seen or been on a passenger train, much less an Indian passenger train, where nearly everything is in Hindi. I kept asking people if they spoke English, had no luck, and when the train began to move, and panic set in. I jumped onto the very last cab, which was second-class unreserved, the lowest class, which was super crowded and basically very uncomfortable, especiallyconsideringit was a 26 hour journey. One guy saw that I obviously seemed out of place, so I showed him my ticket, and he told me what to do at the next stop. A few people rallied to help me when the time arrived, and I managed to get into the right cab, which was a lot more comfortable and spacious, with padded seats, and more than 1 inch of personal space. I took my seat, and was immediately offered a meal by a friendly Indian family sitting adjacent to me. I know you aren't supposed to accept food willy-nilly in India, especially on trains, the presence of small children and kind elderly faces was reassuring enough, so I accepted a "train meal", which was actually quite good, though a bit spicier than I'm used to, and it really hit the spot. They didn't speak much English, but kept giving me candy and sweets, and yet another meal a few hours later, and would not accept my attempts to deny their offers. I expected the ride to be a pretty harrowing and uncomfortable experience, but honestly, I didn't find it to be too bad at all. It's certainly nothing like that "Darjeeling Limited" movie, and the train is basicaly hot, noisy, and dirty, but after second-class unreserved, I was grateful for what I had. Plus, again, $9 for a 1200km ride ain't too shabby, especially since the seats turn into beds, and while not exactly comfortable, I managed a good 6-7 hours of sleep when night arrived. The train ride itself though has quite a few quirks. Every time you stop (which is about every 10 minutes), a bunch of beggars will hop on and plead for money, as well as food and especially chai merchants. No matter what goods they're peddling, all seem to speak in the same incredibly grating and annoying tone, but often their services are welcome on a journey of that length, though can get old when you're trying to sleep. I had many mostly short conversations with Indians coming and going and sitting nearby, and all would generally ask my "good name", occupation, whether I was married, and how I liked India. Most Indians certainly seem to pride themselves on their country, which I think is a good thing, and seem appreciative when I tell then how much I like the people and culture. It's really surprising though how popular George W. is over here and America in general. Many people I meet say America is No. 1 and George Bush is a great man. The place is certainly becoming very westernized, as is evident by the dress of most of the middle class and more educated people, as well as the popular culture I see (billboards, music videos, pop music, etc.), which I have to say is a bit disconcerting, but it is what it is. On the train ride I managed to read 2 books, "Anthem"by Ayn Rand, and "A New Earth"by Eckhart Tolle, which are sort of the antithesis of each other in terms of philosophy, and while both have their merits, I think Mr. Tolle has a bit more I agree with, and I found the book to be quite a good read, though a little too new-agey at times. The best part of the train ride though has to be the views, and I ended up spending a good deal of time standing up and hanging out the door of the train, with the breeze in my face, watching the hundreds of miles of beautiful countryside fly by. Lush, fertile lands with small hills in the distance were the basic backdrop for most of the ride, as well as people hard at work tilling the fields into the sunset hours, which I have to say was quite a site from the train over the rolling hills, and many small rivers we passed over. Definitely not a bad way to see the outskirts of rural IndiaThe bathroom in the train is nothing more than 2 rubber strips to place your feet on as you squat over a hole, with the tracks speeding by down below. You're asked not to use the toilet at stops, which is understandable, but people do not seem to often heed that warning, and every time we'd stop, the stench of human waste was pretty overpowering, especially seeing as my seat was right by the bathroom, but I got used to it pretty quickly.

We pulled into the Ujjain train station right on time at about 9:30 in the morning, and I agreed to the first cycle rickshaw driver that approached me, and told him to take me to my destination, Siddha Ashram. My first impression of Ujjain was not a very good one I'll admit, as it seemed crowded, ugly, noisy, and polluted, with nary a redeeming quality on the 5km ride there. Stagnant lakes filled with floating trash were also a common site, and the sulfurous smell of rotten eggs/feces, which has come to be a common feature of many parts I've seen/smelled in India, seemed to be prominent everywhere. The ashram though was situated far outside of town, along one of the major bathing ghats of the beautiful Shipra River, and seemed an ideal setting for a quiet and scenic stay, which is what I'd been craving. I had emailed the guy in charge of booking guests at the ashram, and while he told me there was construction currently going on, he said I was welcome to stay if I wished, so I came expecting the normal ashram routine of a daily schedule of activities with meals, rules, other foreigners, etc.. Upon arriving, I met the resident Swami Nardanand, as well as an incredibly eccentric old man, who quickly befriended me, and bombarded me with personal questions about myself and about America, and over the next 8 days, we would have many more similar encounters. The first thing I noticed though was the construction, and basically the fact that the entire ashram seemed to be taken over by it, including all the guest rooms and the yoga/meditation hall. After sitting around for about 2 hours in the highly cluttered main lobby, I was shown to my room, which was directly behind and connected to the lobby, with a just a curtain to separate us. Apparently this was a transition time for teaching, which I was not informed of, and no meditation or yoga classes were being held, and the Swami was basically completely busy with construction activities for the next 2 months, so would not really have any time for sharing wisdom or offering his normal teachings. At first all I could think of was, "damn, I just sat on a train for 26 hours", but we had a good lunch, with just myself and the swami sharing the table, and his regular Indian sadhaks/disciples sitting on the floor below, all of whom were very friendly, basically helping to serve me and clean up after me, and treating me like royalty. At the ashram, the food is not the normal "sattvic", eg, light, non-spicy diet I was used to in the other ashrams, but consisted of large quantities of chillies as well as a good deal of sweets to go along with most meals, which were usually enormous, with the serving parties always beckoning me to eat more and more. Throughout the course of the 8 days there, I would every day take meals with the Swami, who I learned a pretty good deal about, having had no clue beforehand about his background or accomplishments. Apparently he is a pretty famous and well respected Ayurvedic physician, who has found lasting cures for malaria, arthritis, blood cancer, and chicken gunya, which was an incurable disease that broke out in India a couple years ago, with his medicine being the first to do the job, which I found pretty impressive. I asked him about his work and research and how long it took him to make his medicines and the processes involved, and he basically told me that every single one of the cures came to him in meditation, and that a saint revealed to him the secrets each time. He showed me his "laboratory" out back, which consisted of a small cauldron in a shed and a couple other pots and pans, and said he hoped to soon develop more professional equipment to make larger quantities of medicine more quickly, as it took around 6 months currently to make each batch.

My first day there, he invited me to go with him to a small village outside of town, where a feast for hundreds of people was to be served, with him serving as the blesser of the food for all. We drove there in a small hatchback owned by the ashram, the Swami doing the driving, and I have to admit, I was scared for my life on more than one occasion as the man drove like a complete lunatic, which I guess is actually pretty typical in India from what I've observed. We were accompanied by one of the female ashram workers, her small son, and another older male ashram worker, all of whom didn't say a word the entire time. On the way there, the roads were incredibly crowded with carnival-type festivities, including cheap, primitive rides, some that were broken, with the attendant manually providing the force to propel the participants, all kinds of fried food stands, and a large crowd of marching individuals, who all held 8-10 foot poles, richly decorated with multi-colored streamers, shouting mantras over and over as they marched along. Apparently this was either the birth or death day of a famous saint, and, as Indians love any chance they can get to party, they took full advantage. This was also the reason for the feast in the village I learned later, and would be the first of many festivals I saw taking place throughout my short stay in Ujjain. It was raining when we arrived at the village, and there was a large tarp placed over a huge bonfire, with about 20 different people huddled underneath. They were preparing some kind of bread rolls indigenous only to the state of Madhya Pradesh, over, or should I say directly on the fire, and didn't seem to flinch as they handled the burning hot rolls and turned them over again and again, until their hands, as well as the rolls, were blackened and ready. They were situated outside of a small school building, and inside, the rest of the preparations were taking place, with several people hard at work chopping up huge amounts of vegetables, and stirring enormous pots of various concoctions. At one point, I saw a guy dump at least 2 pounds of chili powder into a cauldron, and the Swami simply said "I hope you like food hot", which I quickly got used to after my short stay. After sitting around in the small, cramped principal's office, while the Swami and the villagers spoke heatedly in Hindi, something that would be a common recurrence for much of my stay in Ujjain, the food was finally ready to go. We ended up eating in the office, while the villagers ate in a large covered area outside, and I was pushed to my limit, with tons of delicious bread (the same I saw being prepared earlier), deadly but delicious balls of sugar and ghee, rice, vegetables, and some of the spiciest food I've ever eaten. Afterwards, he said he wanted to take me to some of his favorite sites in Ujjain, so after another harrowing journey speeding down flooded and highly uneven roads, we arrived at the "Mars Temple", which Hindu legend believes is the birthplace of Mars (don't ask, because I didn't really understand either). Apparently Ujjain is the birthplace of Indian astronomy, with a fairly complex ancient observatory further out of town, and Ujjain is the place where the ancient Indians place the first degree of Longitude or Latitude, as well as the Tropic of Cancer. The temple itself was fairly typical, with some decent architecture, and a shrine to Shiva inside. A red smudge was painted on my forehead, I was given a handful of sugar to eat, and the Swami a coconut by the priest, and we then headed off to the far more impressive "Sun Temple" a couple of km away. This was a large and dilapidated ancient temple, with an incredibly intricate system of dams and waterways in the river-fed chamber below, boasting 52 different platforms for meditation, with water rushing around currents on each end. There were several spots along some of the platoforms with spiralling, snake-like double helical patterns and different geometric fractals, which are supposed to help raise the energy in the body up the spinal column and into the brain when seated still on the platform with the water rushing below. It seemed like a very scientific approach to meditation, and I can't really do justice in describing it the way the Swami did, but the engineering behind it was very impressive for how old it was, and apparently a spiritually inclined king housed a bunch of monks and told them to help scientifically design ways to help quicken the path to enlightenment. There were all kinds of small housing complexes situated around the temple and waterway, but since no one keeps them up anymore, the state of everything was pretty shabby, though the waterway was still impressive and the dams still working. After this we went to a nearby farmer's house that the Swami knew, and upon entering the house, the smell of onions, and especially rotten onions was incredibly overpowering. There were literally thousands of pounds of onions stacked all over the house, with several children seated on a bed, watching an episode of the epic one-hundred episode telling of the Mahabarata, one of India's most famed and important spiritual texts. We were given some hot milk, straight from the udder, which was quite delicious, and after agreeing the onion smell was just too tough to deal with, we left for the journey back to the ashram. We ended up going a good 20 miles outside of town, and the ride there and back offered me a glimpse of the rural countryside of Ujjain and its outskirts, which I have to admit were pretty incredible. The river snaked through many different parts of the town and surrounding areas, and incredibly lush and fertile land, as well as an abundance of palm and magnificent banyan trees lined the way. I was expecting to not be nearly as impressed by the lowland areas of the country versus the beautiful hills experienced in Rishikesh, but I have to say I was very impressed, and the beauty of the countryside never ceased to amaze me on subsequent walks and drives throughout the countryside. Most people in Ujjain make their living by farming or other agricultural means, and the education level in the city is remarkably low. One boy I talked to told me that only 5-6% of Ujjainis spoke English, 2-3% used computers, and that the literacy rate was something like 40% overall. But though they are simple people of simple means, my experience was that of nothing but kindness and hospitality on most people's part.

After arriving back at the ashram, I got to use the bathroom facilities for the first time, which were shared by around 20 people, and consisted of a toilet that didn't flush, a sink, and a few water taps scattered around used for bathing, all of which leaked ceaselessly, and left the floor in a perpetual state of slickness. At first I didn't know how to make what I left in the toilet go away, so I had to humiliatingly go ask a female ashram worker for assistance. She made me follow her into the bathroom, filled up a large bucket with water, and dumped it into the toilet and "voila". Makes sense I reckon... After being in Ujjain for a few days, I couldn't help but notice I was the only person that...looked like me, and that 99% of signs were in Hindi. My entire duration there, I didn't see a single western tourist, and many people I tried to get information from would just ramble on in Hindi for 5 minutes, with me trying my hardest to convey that I didn't understand a damn word they were saying. The people here though were really great for the most part. Though most people's English was primitive at best, that didn't stop well over a hundred people from introducing themselves and shaking hands with me over my week long stay, as well as a good 20 people taking photos with me and trying their best to communicate what they could. I was given food, chai, and...other things by a great deal of different people, from 15 year old kids, to 70 year old sadhus, and after being there for only a week, I couldn't set foot outside the ashram without running into someone who I had shared food or something else with, or whose name I had learned and immediately forgotten. There were certainly times though when it could be annoying being a stranger in a strange land. Often I would just want to take a peaceful walk into the woods or by the river to get away from the noise going on in the ashram with all the construction, but could never get more than 100 feet without someone inviting me into their shop or hut, or making me follow them around to show me various shrines and talk to me about Shiva or Ganesh in jumbled Hindi-English. One crazy 60-something year old man began speaking to me one day, and demanded I follow him to the river, all the while speaking completely incomprehensible gibberish, (though I think he was trying to tell me the occupations of his father, grandfather, uncle, cousin, and brothers), stripped down to his underwear, dove into the river, and then showed off his breast stroke and back stroke, which provided a handy means for me to escape. Though I mostly tried to stick to the paths and waterways near the ashram, I also did a good deal of walking through some incredibly depressing and impoverished inner-city slums, where I was treated like a complete alien, with many cold stares, looks of awe, and condescending laughter at every turn. Though I had seen a good deal of poverty around India before, this was certainly a wakeup call of sorts, and all I can say is that a lot of people live like complete shit here, and it makes me feel like a rich, apathetic scumbag, but...well...what can I really say?

This town, like most others, has a lot of wildlife walking around the city, as well as the countryside, and buffalo, cattle, goats, wild dogs galore, pigs, and monkeys were all a common feature. The ghats were probably the nicest part of the actual city, and they stretched for miles in every direction along the peaceful, scenic, and moderately clean Shipra. During the Kumbh Mela, something like 30 million Indians come here to bathe in the river to wash away their karma, so I'm sure it is quite an amazing sight to see them filled to the brim with naked sadhus and millions of other devotees. At the ashram, there is a large 20 foot meditation dome being reconstructed, and the Swami said that during the last Kumbh Mela, all of the major news crews stayed at the ashram, and filmed from the top, which provided an amazing view of the ocean of people flooding the river, which is something I'd certainly like to witness someday. I was able to find a couple quiet, isolated places on occasion, only of course after talking to various people along the way and sharing a cup of tea or some biscuits with them, including a police officer, a pharmacy student, a government official, an ayurvedic doctor, and of course large groups of 18-25 year olds, just waiting for an opportunity to whip out their mobiles to snap some photos with our arms over each others shoulders.

On another day, the Swami took me to this temple, where underground caves had been constructed over 4,000 years ago, and kept out all presence of light and sound. Admission was currenty run by a group of perpetually high sadhus, who had these enormous hooks going through the CENTER of their ears, which supposedly is supposed to stimulate a certain nerve that aids in achieving meditative states, but the Swami said nowadays it's just tradition, and more for fashion than anything else. The caves were very hot and uncomfortable, but he said during the non-monsoon months, they are quite pleasant, and it's just the humidity that makes them unbearable. Yes, it rains here every day as well, but it's quite welcome as it cools everything down to just over 85, and something about the cloud formations here for some reason are always in a state of magnificence. The Swami said that he used to come to these caves before they became a tourist attraction, and would spend days in meditation there, which he said was something everyone should experience. He said when he has large groups of students staying in the ashram, he reserves the caves overnight from the sadhus, and they stay there overnight, something which I hope to experience, assuming I make it back here.

I guess I should describe the living situation a bit more. Like I said, I shared a small living space with around 20 people, me having the luxury of my own room, which was completely full of mattresses and assorted junk, and closely resembled any given room in the 'Gibbs Dr. house' I lived in several years ago. I guess I didn't have the room all to myself, as I was sharing it with at least 3 mice, 10-15 geckos, and numerous insects, but they were only an occassional disturbance and helped add a little character to the room. The dining area was outside next to the kitchen, which was attached to the workroom/bedroom shared by 5 women and 3 children, which was also attached to the lobby. The Swami had his own room back behind the main office, as well as a meditation chamber he used in the basement of the lobby. There were about 50 construction workers working on the guesthouses and meditation dome, many of them old women, who would do hours of hours of heavy lifting, while working on the roof in the baking sun all day, laying plaster, or hammering nails. Days seemed to be in the 12-15 hour range for most of the people, and it really made me see what kind of lives many Indians live as they struggle to get by. The people working in the ashram itself consisted of about 6 women, who did all the cooking, cleaning, and general maintenance duties, and they also worked around the clock, waking up at 5 every day to scrub the floors and the bathroom, and retiring around 10 or 11 after all the dishes had been cleaned. All of them were incredibly nice, but none spoke any English, but our general means of communication was them coming into my room, making a motion as if food was being put into their mouth to alert me that a meal was ready, and I guess that was sufficient. There were about 8-10 male ashram students living in the permanent guest rooms below the construction, and all were Indians in their late teens or early twenties, many attending to university studies as well as being students of the Swami. All were incredibly nice and accommodating, and while most conversations were difficult, they made the stay here a nice one.

After being here for a few days, I was invited to the "Mahakaleshwar Temple" by Raj, one of the senior ashram managers. This temple is what Ujjain is most famous for, and holds a "lingam", or phallic symbol of Shiva in the form of a large natural stone, which is set several stories down in a hot, cramped underground chamber and is believed to have incredible power. The Ujjainis believe their city to be one of the most powerful in the world, and most people hail the Mahakal Temple in a god-like manner, which gives the town a very cult-ish feel as most people you meet mention it again and again. Often walking int he streets random Hindus would simply say "Jai Mahakal", and I'd nod and say the same, and instant respect seemed to be gained. We went around 5pm, right before the evening aarti, and I have to admit the temple was pretty impressive. There were easily 100 employees, and there were all kinds of cameras and high-tech security facilities and checkpoints, and while Raj was senior manager at the ashram, he was also in a very high up position at the temple, so he got me through everything, and straight to the mighty lingam in the underground chamber, where about 8 priests were performing elaborate rituals around it. We broke through the line of about 100 devotees, and squeezed our way into the tiny chamber, where about 5 different people smeared different colored junk on my forehead, and a woven orange and black bracelet was wrapped around my wrist and I was told not to take it off for 1 year. I can't say I really get much out of these temple visits, as I'm not a Hindu, and don't really believe much in ritual for ritual's sake, but I try my best to be respectful and not look too bored.

On my 2nd to last day in Ujjain, I was accompanied on a bus tour of all the big sites in the city by a very nice 40 year old woman named Arati from Delhi, who was in Ujjain gathering information for a documentary she was working on about the scientific evidence behind the mystical powers the town claims to hold. She spent a lot of time in the ashram interviewing the Swami, who I heard make some pretty bold claims from what little I could understand. Since he had so little time to spend with me, and obviously felt guilty that I had come all the way to his ashram, he thought this was a good way to get the full experience of Ujjain, so Arati and I set off on the bus tour to view about 15 different sites, covering a period of about 5 hours total. The entire tour was conducted in Hindi, but Arati did a nice job of translating for me, and I think I learned at least something, though most of it was stuff I honestly had no interest in. We went to of course about 10 different temples, and by the time it was all over, it looked like I had been bludgeoned in the head with an axe due to all the red paint on my forehead in different designs. I'd also eaten about a pound of sugar, thrown 50 handfuls of flowers at different statues, walked around shrines in a circle until my head was spinning, and had about 10 different bracelets wrapped around my wrist. In terms of the sugar eating, it's often customary for priests to give out handfuls of rock candy, or little sweets when you pay homage to a shrine for whatever reason. I guess if nothing it's an incentive for little kids to want to go pay their respects to whichever idols a temple holds. In addition to the temples, (which I was honestly getting a bit tired of by the end), we saw an awesome 500 year old astronomical observatory, that mapped all kinds of astronomical phenomena with great accuracy, as well as had several sun dials, which were right on the dot to the minute. We also saw an ashram where Lord Krishna was supposedly a student, which had disney-style animatronic action figures performing different actions in the life of Krishna, some which were pretty friggin strange, such as Krishna drinking from a cow's udder, and also drinking form the teat of a demon. Arati payed for the entire thing, and bought me about 30 different snacks and sweets along the way, and refused every attempt I made to pay her back, and insisted I never say "thank you", and that one is enough for a lifetime. There were incredible amounts of beggars outside of nearly every temple, and Arati and I had quite a time trying to get past them, some children following you around for up to 2 minutes with their hands out, which is sad, but you know they immediately turn around and just buy candy and sweets with the money, so you can't really feel too bad. I was attacked by a monkey at one point, because I was holding a bag full of flowers you're supposed to throw at various deities, and he ended up ripping my pants and I thought I was going to have to rumble with him, but luckily he backed off when a quick, sharp threatening movement was made, though he kept thinking about going for it again. The best part of the tour, again, was getting to see the lovely countryside, as many of the sites were well outside of the city, and it made me wish I could spend hours in some of the quiet spots, but of course couldn't because we were in a constant hurry. Arati and I had many enemies by the end of the bus tour, as we were always the last ones on the bus since it took her so long to explain everything to me in English, and she had more than one shouting match with angry, impatient Indian tourists.

Despite all of it's impressive temples and natural beauty, the best part of Ujjain was definitely all the crazy people I met and hung out with, and while I could fill up several pages with stories about them all, I'll just highlight a few the weirdest ones. After stepping outside the ashram to go for a walk one day, I was immediately stopped by a group of guys at a small chai stand about 100m away, and was beckoned over to have some tea and biscuits with them. They ranged from 16 year olds kids, to a 35 year old ayurvedic doctor, to an Indian classical dancer, to a 40-something well-to-do looking government employee. The English was semi-decent, and we ended up having an ok conversation, and after about 20 minutes, I was invited into their guru, a wild-haired sadhu's, hut/tent almost adjacent to the shop for a visit. He had just gotten done bathing in the river, and the first thing he did before introducing himself while we were all crowded into his tent, was strip down, take out a thick bamboo staff, wrap his penis around the staff a good 3 times, then twist it several times in every direction, eventually putting it between his legs so that he resembled Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs playing the role of the transvestite, putting one leg up in the half lotus position, and balancing there perfectly for quite an uncomfortably long time. I have to say I was a bit taken aback, but he explained it was some sexual energy raising technique and helped to keep the sexual urges down, and the other guys didn't seem the least bit shaken by it and seemed quite amused at my reaction. After that, he pulled out a photo album and showed me a bunch of picutres over the years of the exotic places he'd been and the various people he associated with, though he provided no commentary, so I just had to make assumptions, but I have to say there were some pretty damn cool pics. His tent actually had quite a few decent amenities, such as hotplates, a fan, a small bed, and a bunch of cooking utensils, as well as electricity, so though it was cramped and dirty, he seemed to have a decent setup for a sadhu. We hung out for a quite a bit in there, some questionably legal activities took place for a bit, and then I was bid farewell and went on my merry way. Another day, after heading back from a walk by the river, I was approached by this crazy-eyed 20-something guy, who invited me into his guru's tent, which was actually directly across the dirt road from the ashram, so I said what the hey. There were about 5 other guys in there, as well as 4 of the cutest puppies I'd ever seen hanging out, and we spent the time struggling to communicate, with them telling me all kinds of holy stuff, slapping a bracelet on me, randomly saying mantras for minutes at a time, and insisting I chant "Om Namah Shivaya" with them 108 times, which I did. After about an hour, and more questionably legal activity, their guru, the 80 year old palm-reader arrived. They told me he would read my palm, and after about 30 minutes of preparation, he took out a 10 cent flashlight and began to study my right hand for an uncomfortably long amount of time. The guy looked like he was straight out of a scary movie. His eyes were purple and beady, his hair long, snow-white, and ragged, and his voice sounded like his throat was made of sandpaper and as if he belonged in "The Dark Crystal". He also kept coughing incredibly violently and stepping out of the tent fairly often to spit out whatever he had hacked up. At first he studied my palm for a good 5 minutes, consulting 2 different ancient looking books for a good bit, and finally started speaking some barely understandable gibberish, with his student doing most of the translating. He guesed my age right, then proceeded to tell me I had a good heart line, a good spiritual yoga line, would live to be 92 and would die from a snake, would have no stomach problems in my, had good mental faculty, would build my own house, would not work for the government for a living, would not find my guru while in India, and in my past life was a Hindu with a strong spiritual life. He asked nothing for his services, but I insisted on giving me 100 rupees, which he seemed to appreciate. Another day out walking by the river, a 60 year old guy who lived in a small hut nearby with his wife and three sons insisted I come in for some chai, and all the while walking there speaking all kinds of nonsense and mentioning Shiva about 30-40 times. He too had a couple photo albums, as well as all kinds of miniature statues and pictures of various deities he kept showing me, and he left me to look at them for almost a half hour while sitting on the bare dirt floor of his hut. His wife brought me some chai, which I was hesitant to drink due to the state of the place, but I've become a lot more bold in the things I'll eat and drink, so I said F it and bottoms-up'd it. They also gave me about 5 different "sweets", which are these super sticky balls of sugar and ghee and something else holding them together, which are incredibly delicious, but are obviously the reason why 60% of Indian women seem to be overweight, and from what I hear have diabetes galore. Later it was revealed the man was a sweet maker, and pulled open a cover revealing about 500 sweets, which he said would be shipped to Delhi the next day. Me, him, and his 3 sons hung out for a good hour, participating in similar happenings as with my previous hosts. His stream of talk was endless, and it was getting a bit old by the end, but he invited me back any time, and said he always loved to have Western guests in his home, and from his photo albums, looked like he'd had quite a few.

On my last day in Ujjain, after coming back from a walk, AJ, one of the young ashram students, and a bunch of others, were about to perform an aarti service for the god Ganesh, whose idol they were planning to sacrifice to the river. He insisted I join in, and about 20 minutes of complex ritual commenced, involving all kinds of smoke, flower throwing, sweets offering, and elaborate hand rituals, which I did my best to imitate. Afterwards, we all marched down to the river, and AJ insisted that I jump into the river with him, so we each grabbed a hold of Ganesh, and jumped into the river tandem-style, swimming a good 50 feet out to bid him farewell. The river was actually very nice to swim in and felt quite refreshing in the heat, and I was glad to say I'd done it, as I missed the opportunity in Rishikesh and Haridwar to actually go into the Ganges fully. After that it was time to bid farewell, and after a small meal, and a long conversation with the old guy I met on my first day focusing primarily around the sexual customs of American teenagers, which he seemed appalled, though amazingly interested, I gave a generous donation to the Swami and was driven to the train station for a 16 hour journey to the East to Sevagram. Raj insisted on carrying my luggage, went onto the actual train with me, bought me some water, and gave me a hug, saying I was welcome back any time. Ujjain was a pretty darn cool place I have to say, with great people, many of which I failed to mention, such as the guy at the train station who helped me for an hour and a half to reserve my ticket, great sites, and a general sense of weirdness. It seems like a good place to experience the real India, untouched by tourism and Western pandering, and while it was at times annoying and even intimidating being the only white man, it also made me feel like a celebrity, which was at times pretty nice. I think I'll probably come back in February when the ashram is completed, to hang with the Swami a bit more, and to revisit the nice sites again, knowing I'll have more time to spend in the quieter, more isolated places. Well, this is all from about a week or so ago, and a ton of stuff has happened since, but I'm gonna have to break the blog off for now and try to catch up somehow. I've been to Sevagram, Chennai, and am now in the super awesome city of Tiruvannamalai, which has a volcano you can climb to the top of, as well as all the way around, the most incredible temple complex I've ever seen, lots of distant hills, quiet forests, and incredibly friendly people. I'll try to catch up soon as I have lots more to report, and have now caved in and bought a camera, so some nice pictures will be forthcoming. Thanks for taking the time to read all of this jumbled mass of crap. I'm really starting to miss everyone back home, and pleasant memories constantly flood my thoughts, but I'm trying to stay strong to my resolution, and the great experiences I've been having certainly aren't hurting. Love you all. God bless. Stay peaceful. Stay happy. Live in the moment. Relish the bliss that is within you and don't sweat the small stuff. Take care.

Love,

Adam