[JPM Travel Journals] INDIA and NEPAL 01 Intro to India Holi Holy Vrindaban The Sadhu in Taj's Shadow Pushkar's Respite A Sitar & a Vespa in Udaipur The Clean-Bombing of Mumbai Goa Beach Hippie Sighting Tours Unequal Vision in Benares Everest, Out the Window Into Their Thin Air Anna Purr Now Within You Without You Rishikesh Part 2 Amritsar: Bold, Gold His Holiness of Dangerous Liasons Delhi Visit #5 New Delhi Turns to New York [ PHOTO ARCHIVE ]

Holi, Holy Vrindaban 07 March 01 Vrindavana, India. It is considered blasphemy, an offence to the blue-faced god, to even suggest that Vrindaban is a place in the material world. Such is the seriousness of this heaven-land, this the playground of Lord Krishna as a child, some 5000 years back, and the city of the saint (Sri) Caitanya, 500 years ago. The Obiquitous Mr. Bovine on the Parikram. Vrindaban. And yet, the streets are positively mad with devotees of Krishna, children running and playing and laughing, dreadlocked orange-robed bearded sadhu's strolling this town's holy paths of vedic pasttimes, and rickshaw drivers -- both engine-driven and pedal-powered. This is two days into a four or five day festival known as Holi, very special to most of India, even more celebrated in holy cities like Vrindaban, which has about 5000 temples, mostly to Krishna. And yes, this is the town that has the world headquarters and master temple, Krishna-Balarama Mandir of the Hare Krishna movement-- and yes, there are a lot of westerners here, more than a few with a marbles missing. Met some cool devotees so far; even took a ride down to Loi Bazar with a devotee, last night to pick up some cheap sandals and a shirt. Found out that the taxi drivers understand "White Man Temple" "ISKCON" and "Krishna Balaram Mandir" fairly interchangably. A smart tip on dealing with the rickshaws is such: When you know the price, get it, take the ride, pay exact change. This avoids the absurdity of being quoted insane tourist prices, getting insulted, and having to negotiate down to reasonable levels. Often times the drivers pitch a minor fit when you hand them the fare (which is still likely to be twice or thrice local fare, but still a sweet deal for our western wallet.) This fit disintegrates with a stern look, wagging finger, and the muttering Ji, Me Samje kitne rupee! Figuratively, "Man, I know how much it costs!" Holi's toll. 4 stained pilgrims at Krsna-Balaram mandir. As for Holi, well, it seems to be primarily celebrated by splashing colored pigments and dyes whether liquid or powder on other people as they walk or ride by. No one is safe. And its damn funny for the kids, or so they think, to chase you in your rickshaw as you beg them-- no no no please no -- and then you are soaked and dripping in purple, green, blue, or yellow. Apparently this stuff doesnt come out of hair too quick either, and basically everyone looks like a tye-die disaster. I bought an outfit of cheap indian clothes (yes, I look like a funny little guy like everyone else here, and I plan to get a nice close crew cut just for further grins) for the festival. Don't want my trekking (and currently ONLY) pants to be a rainbow mess. New acquaintence with makeover courtesy Holi. Today I took a long walk, part of the Parikram, a holy walk circumabulating Vrindaban, but bailed out from the heat and hopped in a boat on the Yamuna river's edge. Drifted past the ghats and steps of temples off the water's front, and then walked across the hot sands to find a boatman to bring me across the river to this strange little ashram. There were a bunch of interesting dreadlocked types there, some young, some quite old.. and a very simple temple. They started talking about how they eat the same meal every day, two times a day. Any one who knows how I feel about food could understand why I didn't hang out much longer. The idea of being out of the 'city' while the inks, rocks, battery acid, and drunks were raging... well, it was attractive, but I decided to deal with Holi. After all, that which does not stain you, makes you... well, really messy. Boatsman. Kesi Ghat, on the Yamuna. I'll try to survive Holi here, probably mostly tucked into my off the path ashramesque room (which even has a fancy SIT DOWN style toilet, very luxurious) with my introductory Sanskrit book. When the festival is done and the streets are safe, I will stay here for another day or two, see some more of the temples and sites, and then head back to Mathura (where the police patrol en masse with assault rifles and machine guns in fear of the Muslim/Hindu tensions) to catch a train to Agra-- and see the Taj Mahal. From there I move on to Rajhastan, and want to move southward before it starts getting blistering hot down there. Postscript- Food has been great so far. As expected. Sleeping at night, however, isn't so easy with all the bells, whistles, singing, dancing, honking, dogs barking, ceiling fans squeaking, et al. Hopefully when the festival ends I'll find a more tranquil place of here as I had always imagined it. The Sadhu in Taj's Shadow >> ©2001 JPM. All photography and writing copyrighted.