Grunge Rishikesh

Ti kai? [OK?]

Hanji. Subh ti kai! [Yes. All is well!]

I can see the Ganges from the window of this internet caf. It's wide, green and glorious. Rishikesh, seven hours north of Delhi (and famous for the Beatles' 1968 visit), is hard to fathom. It's stunningly beautiful, and this alone might account for its spiritual rep. It's hard not to get absorbed in the river's flow, fresh from the Himalayas. Yet Rishi is also commercial and full of Westerners -- more Westerners than I've seen in my three Indian weeks. After that, it's kind of grungy. Sadhus [wise men / religious men] will engage you in conversation but are just as likely to hit you up for rupees thereafter. I politely decline. Ji naang hai, dhanyawad. [No, thankyou.]

The sadhus seem kind of mad, and this may be because they are genuinely spiritual and find it hard to make their way in the world. Or maybe they really are mad and this is a good place to hang out. I don't know. There's a fine line between mad and enlightened I reckon. Some of the maddest people I know make the most sense, some of the time.

Anyway, thanks for reading, if you're been tracking this blog. We only aim to say namaste once a week or so. We've been crap with the postcards too.

Indian music and traditional dance concert tonight on the rooftop of an ashram, five minutes from our digs. More Rishi tomorrow -- I may even dunk myself in the Ganges -- then a shockingly early train to Delhi on Tuesday, followed by an overnighter to Jaisalmer in the Great Thar Desert. Hope everyone at home is grand.

xo