Rafting on Holy Waters

My sins have been washed away. Thanks to a rafting trip on the river Ganges. Seek adventure, get religion free.

The road trip to Rishikesh was like any other trip out of the capital. But I forgive Delhi. Its relative proximity to the Himalayas is reason enough. Thankfully, the trip was spent in a stupor. Partly asleep, the mind was unaware of time passing, but the body remained fatigued. Not a bad deal.

My first waking glimpse of Rishikesh was of a deserted ghat at 3 AM, and the Ganga flowing. My first steps on that hallowed ground were in the knowledge that a walk to the hotel was ahead of me. In the incipient winter. With piles of winter clothing in my luggage.

I was not sure how long the walk would be. Any distance between 500 meters to five kilometers is described as “just up ahead” here. Thankfully, the walk was just long enough to get the sleep out of my eyes. Just before our programme allowed a couple of hours to catch some shut-eye. Suffering builds character.

The town is quite clean, no informal toilets at street corners. The place becomes too crowded during the day for such responses to nature’s calls. And during the night, being less adventurous, most people keep off the streets. Explains the absence of pictures of Gods and Goddesses at waist height on boundary walls. But then, there is no dearth of reminders of the Almighty. There are temples everywhere. Advertisements proclaim spiritual sermons and yoga classes. There are a good number of resident cows.

It is surprising that the cows don’t all run away. This is where the Sacred Cow is a scared cow, true story below:

Crowd of holy men and onlookers (trying to force a cow to enter a confined prayer area, pushing and pulling): Go on, go on.

Petrified cow loses bowel control.

Holy men (in unison, folding their hands in prayer and bowing to the cow): This is a wonderful omen! The Gods have showered their blessings on the ritual.

Cow bolts. Maybe the treats the cows get at the end of the rituals keep them motivated.

Curiously, I spot a yuppie crowd thronging the parking lot of a temple complex. They do not seem in the least religious. A closer look reveals a spanking new, powder blue TATA NANO. The owner arrives and tries to get closer to his car, in vain. The crowd is oblivious, tapping and peering through the windows. One onlooker even begs for a ride as the owner manages to get the door open. Ticket to heaven and everlasting life?

Time to raft. Our guide is a spunky young Ladakhi. He shows us all the don’ts before demonstrating the do’s. It is far too late for me to learn from his hilarious mimicry of common mistakes.

I hoist myself onto the raft in a hurry. A rafting trip is most fun in the front seat. My life-jacket is strangling the life out of me. The guide says it is best that way. They say the safety equipment leaves the river no chance to get you. I concur.

The Ganga is a safe river. The rapids are separated by stretches of calm water. The guides encourage rafters to jump into the river at the appropriate places. The rafters happily oblige. The experience of a lifetime, it is faith that makes this the holiest river. Maano to Ganga Maiyya, na maano to behta paani. Heard that on some loudspeaker somewhere.

Lunch is at the rafting camp by the side of the river. I discover that the sunburn on the Ganga is just as bad as on the Zanskar- the frostbite is missing, though. Thank God for the small mercies.

Rafting complete. I come away sinless, with a sunburn. Hopefully lighter by a kilo or two. The bus takes us back to Delhi. I pray that I make my flight the next morning.

A sigh of relief. I reach the airport on time, or so I think. Lethargy makes me move slowly towards boarding. I have lost count of the muscles that are aching. Rafting has made sure I cannot sit anywhere for too long.

On reaching the boarding gate, the staff tell me I can’t make this flight. Just as the public announcement system belts out the “last and final boarding call” for this very flight. The airline gives me a full refund, and I get myself another ticket home. It is all karma, or maybe it is maya. Only He knows.