Land of Three Rivers

We left the south. The sticky coastal heat, the pervasive dosas and parottas for every meal, the incomprehensible Tamil language – all this we put behind us as, in mid-April, we returned to Delhi. Although not for long, because less than 24 hours after arriving we were back on a train chugging east across the dusty plains of Uttar Pradesh on our way to Allahabad, a historic city in the heart of India’s agricultural wheat belt.  

Allahabad, a city of almost 2 million people, occupies a propitious piece of land near the convergence of three holy rivers – the tangible Ganges and Yamuna rivers, and the more mysterious Saravati river.  This third river, although mentioned in religious texts from ancient India, no longer exists as a traditional, surface-flowing body of water. The faithful believe that the river now flows underground and wells up to the surface in the middle of the convergence of the Ganges and Yamuna.  This triple whammy of holy rivers makes Allahabad one of the four sites of the Kumbh Mela, a Hindu pilgrimage taking place every 3 years.  Every 12^th year a larger and more significant version of the event takes place, and every 144 years the Maha (great) Kumbh Mela occurs. The most recent one in 2001 attracted 60 million people, making it the largest gathering ever in recorded history.

Our main reason for visiting Allahabad was to participate in a second community farmer consultation with staff from TERI (read about the first one in West Bengal here). While I was doing that, R. made his way to Triveni Sangam, as the river convergence is known. Joining Indian worshipers in a hired boat, he rowed out to the center of the wide waterway. His fellow boaters were young men who had just finished taking an exam to gain admittance to university - for the third time. Each April for the last three years these friends had thrown themselves into the cut-throat battle to gain university admission. Indian higher education is one of the most competitive academic systems in the world, and the best Indian universities have an acceptance rate of less than 1 in 50.  In 2011, in order to be competitive for university admission, students had to score a perfect 100% on the standardized entrance exam. India’s abundance of talented and ambitious youth combined with inadequate university capacity leads to this – young men taking an entrance exam for the third time and then rowing to the holy convergence of sacred rivers to pray for divine intervention. Let’s hope it’s third time lucky.

While R. was learning about the plight of the modern Indian university aspirant, I was shut in a very hot conference room with 25 officials from the Allahabad district Department of Agriculture. After an introduction and discussion of climate change impacts in the region, TERI researchers led the participants in a conversation to suggest locally appropriate adaptation ideas. Agriculture, the primary industry in Allahabad district, is extremely vulnerable to climate change. Grain crops are largely rain-fed, and changes in the pattern of the annual monsoon can be hugely detrimental to farmers. The Ganges and Yamuna (and presumably Saravati) are fed by seasonal melt from the Himalayas, and are thus also susceptible to climate change impacts.

The next day we saw climate change adaptation in action at a rural agricultural extension office an hour’s drive outside of Allahabad. This facility was promoting alternative livelihood activities to supplement agriculture and provide more stable sources of income.  We saw several test projects in action, including intensive chicken farming, making idols and figurines, cow husbandry, and the cultivation of commercially valuable high-grade crops. These activities can provide a critical economic buffer to rural farmers in times of drought or flood.

Community consultation in Allahabad

Figurines cast from a plant resin

Commercial-scale chicken husbandry

Grey Dawn on the Ganga

Varanasi is a grey city.  The sky is grey; the Ganga is grey; the buildings, oxen, dogs and ubiquitous Indian crows are all various shades of grey.  Perhaps the dour uniformity of the city’s color palate is due to the winter pollution haze that afflicts most of north India between November and March.  Or perhaps it’s because of the miasma of smoke in the air from the cremation bonfires on the banks of the river.  It’s no secret why the Ganga is grey; the river suffers from all manner of environmental outrage - massive raw sewage discharge from upstream urban areas being one of them.

But amidst the grays, blacks, and dusty browns, this holy city on the Ganga is full of life, religious fervor, and touches of intimate color. Walking along the ghats, I was struck by the snake charmer’s bright red robes and a swirl of pink and yellow flower petals washed up on the muddy bank, remnants of Varanasi’s evening aarti ceremony. Women beat dirty clothes into cleanliness along the river steps, and then hang the colorful garments along railings to dry.  A man roams the water’s edge with a collection of caged birds; for a small charge you can release one, thereby gaining good karma.  The little owls look scared and the bright Indian roller has a frantic gleam in its eye.  My friend tells the man “Apka kaam kharab hai”.  “Your work is bad”.

The west bank of the river is built-up with temples and ghats, which are steps leading down to the river to gain access for washing clothes, bathing (yourself and your buffalo), boating, disposing of waste, and most importantly, sending the cremated remains of your loved one down the river.  The east bank is a long stretch of empty sand where the feral dogs worry bloated buffalo corpses and entrepreneurial farmers grow crops between the rise and fall of the river.  We bought three paper kites for 6 rupees each and boated over to the east bank to fly them.  A little boy showed us how to properly tie the string and then demonstrated the technique; let the string out while the kite is upright; if it starts to nosedive, pull back.  The boy was expert and we were awful, but together we passed a pleasant afternoon.


To hear about our epic and gruesome journey back to Delhi, check out the "Food poisoning in sleeper class" blog entry of my fellow Varanasi traveler at: http://newenvironmentality.blogspot.com/

Sad owls and an Indian roller

Goat/trash/flower melange

The nightly flotilla of observers watching the aarti on the bank

Laundry drying on the ghats

The west bank

The east bank

One of the cremation ghats from a respectful distance

 

Yoga and Yuppies

My time in Mussourie is growing short, and thus, on a quest to see more sights of local interest, last weekend R. and I braved the somewhat sketchy local bus system to get ourselves to Rishikesh. What should have taken 2 buses and 3 hours turned into 3 buses and 4 hours when, with a clunk, the drive shaft fell off our second bus and we had to stand on the side of the road until the next one rolled through.

Rishikesh is right on the headwaters of the Ganges, India’s holiest river, and is a hot-bed of spiritual activity with lots of ashrams, meditation, and yoga. It all seemed a little artificial, however, as the vast majority of the spiritual seekers were Westerners of various sorts, with the locals just playing along to make a quick buck. The scenery is quite spectacular though, with the river flowing through a deep and forested valley and colorful temples and ashrams lining the banks.

The yoga class we braved one morning was fun (ow…still sore!) but I think our best Rishikesh activity was the morning we spent river rafting. The Ganges has some decent rapids up in its headwaters. Now, I’m as knowledgeable about rafting as I am about yoga (which is to say, not at all) but reputable people tell me that the rapids we bounced through were in the 3 - 3.5 range. Midway though the last rapid our guide told us to stow our paddles and jump. So we bobbed down the fast-flowing Ganges in our life vests for a few minutes before the frigid water drove us back into our boat. From what I understand, for most of its length, this holiest of rivers is rather sewer-like. But this far up, I felt fairly comfortable swimming. No ill effects so far.

Check out some pictures above and below. They are, in order:
1.) View of the Rishikesh tourist neighborhoods on either side of the Ganges.
2.) Pedestrian (and motorcycle, cow, and monkey) suspension bridge linking the two sides of town.
3.) Nightly ganga aarti puja on the riverside ghats.
4.) Bells and decorations near the top of a temple.
5.) Temple doors and a holy cow.
6.) Rikshaw-wallas waiting for customers.
7.) The Ganges, upriver from Rishikesh.