varanasi

That night there was a big saraswati festival where elaborate puja’s were performed at sunset and groups of kids would march down the stairs carrying giant statues of women made from cow dung and hay all painted up. They would dance around for a while on the stairs, drumming, and throwing paint before launching the massive statues onto little boats and parading them off into the ganga and throw them overboard. It was hilarious and amazing…ive never seen so much action and music and holy shit going down in one place at the same before…it was insanity…all I could do was smile as yet another group of party boys would almost bite it coming down the stairs with an even bigger statue and theyd all be battling it out with the drums and dancing like maniacs while two sets of groups performed elaborate traditional pujas and music blaired over the load speakers.
Indians really know how to take the party to the streets. They rent these wall of speaker sound systems on wheels and then follow it with a generator on wheels and just creep down the road with gangs of dancing boys making ragging party on parade…its enchanting to say the least…and that pretty what the saraswati festival was all about.
Since, weve just been hanging out in varanasi trying not to get sick from the food and walking around the maze of backstreets in search of edibles and photo ops. Varanasi is truly an amazing place…its one of the oldest cities in the world, very lively, colorful, and filled with culture and temples and music. The trippiest thing ive ever scene was here just the other night. It too complicated to explain, but it included a river that melted into the sky, floating boats in outerspace, welding blue stobes lights, and cluster of ancient temples and seven bodies burning in fire towards the heavens.
In fact, varanasi is the place that all hindus bring their dead to cremate them and spread their ashes in the ganga. The most poplular burning place is only a hundred yards from our guest house and there are at least five bodies burning there right now…I don’t even have to look. But I have been, and it’s a bit disturbing to watch bodies roasting up in flames and hear the sound of their blood sizzle. Imagine if it was your job to stand around burning dead bodies all day, beating them with a stick, trying to get them to turn to ash…its some kind of hell over there, that’s for sure. code

the ceremony continues

The day after the cremation we went to varanasi and waited till the next day when everyone showed up, crown and all, on the banks of the ganga, to rent boats at assi ghat and motor up stream to sprinkle maharishi’s in the ganga at kedar ghat. Once again it was split up between men and women, separate boats for each, and we said fuck that, and rented our own and had a mixed crew of me and bro, noamy, and our friend Gabriel who we rescued from another boat on the way.
So the men all motor up stream and all the women got stuck on this one huge boat with nothing but oars…it was the saddest thing ever going up stream and watching all the women fall farther and farther back…they didn’t even arrive at the spot until the ceremony was half over, if at all. We made it fine though, and joined up in this floating island of boats where the scattering of the ashes took place.
I jumped off our boat and got a better view on a boat that ended up being right in front of the ceremony by the time it was all over. This part was cool actually, it was trippy floating around in circles out on the ganges with all these blown rues and devotees of maharishi…it was pretty fun, but not exactly spiritual in terms of the crowds demenor and everyone wanting to get pictures and video and all this…but the puja that everyone sang at the end was very sweet and I love that song and it made me cry cause I couldnt sing along and its so beautiful. We all got back to our boats and went ashore after a five minute meditation. I saw a few more friends, but most of them vanished and made plans to meet up with us in a few days…who knows. But kanoa stayed, cause hes the man and didn’t leave his bag in allahabad like all the other amateur travelers. code

all hella bad

We had a hell of a time getting back to our guesthouse sangam where we parted with kanoa. We had to take three rickshaws all of which tried to rip us off…one tried to make us pay for there gas and then wanted 5,000 rupies, we jumped out of their ride into another rickshaw that told us a price and then tried to charge us ten times as much when they dropped us at cycle rickshaws that tried to charge us five times the prices…while on the bicycles another driver rolled up and told us our driver was a thief and get on his rickshaw and then followed us the rest of the way and demanded more money for his friend…it was fucking insane and scary and a rip off. Allahabad is by far my least favorite town in India so far…dangerous, expensive, rude, ugly…sometimes I wonder why people think India is such a holy place…it often just seems like a crowded stinky scamming money hungry rip off…but I don’t know everything…its just exteme that’s all…like the best of the best and the worst of the worst…but theres more bad than good and that’s pretty much gaurenteed. code

no more maharishi

This past winter Ian and I decided to go to India. It just so happened that upon arriving in our first holy city we read in the paper that maharishi had died. Its funny how things work out…with timing and all that…we managed to get ahold of a paper that day…which was rare…and got the news. It was such a shock really…all cut and dry…just another standard reporting…but not to us. Its hard to even write about it really…i was there, and so many weren’t, it was a special time to be in India, and we witnessed a historic event…the funeral of our childhood guru, maharishi mahesh yogi.
So, we immediately contacted our parents who told us when and where the ceremony would be and left immediately for delhi. The next day we got on a night train to allahabad after spending the whole day trying to book a ticket. It was rough…we arrived at four in the morning to a city booked for a mini kumbh mela and drove around for two hours in a rickshaw looking for a room just before sunrise. We ended up in the worst guesthouse ever where the people were rude and charged way more than our crappy room was worth…basically shit.
We sharred a mini taxi out of town through some small villages on dusty little roads with some other meditators staying at our hotel, and made our way onto the grounds. Maharishi was on display in a flower decorated room on some chair for people to see…his body had already been carted off by the time we got there…but I guess it was a bad scene anyways, with people taking flash pictures and crap like that. There was all sorts of snobbery and unfriendliness from the beginning…even from people that we knew…and I was surprised at how few actually showed up for the event…and the vibe was way different then I was expecting.
As the ritual began to get underway, the group was split up between men and women…the women stayed where maharishi’s body was on display to watch via video link up while all the guys walked down the road to the actual cremation location. I mean what a dis…to have traveled half way around just to get locked in a room at the cremation of your spiritual master for being a woman…the movement is so sexist it kills me. The whole thing was rubbing me the wrong way from the start…we were traveling with our girl friend noamy from Budapest at the time who knew nothing of the movement and it all just seemed so fucked trying to explain to her what was going on.
Anyways, we split up and walked out to where the cremation was held on a large slab of concrete overlooking the sangam…where the ganga and yamuna rivers meet…it is supposedly the holiest place in India…where the full kumbh mela happens every twelve years…40million people went to the last one…so the location was pretty powerful, and we could see thousands of people bathing at the holy point in the distance.
The slab itself was about 250ft square and in the middle was a small decorated concrete stage covered in orange flowers and roped off…it was nice…but nothing spectacular. The outer perimeter was lined orange flowers as well and was guarded by policemen who had been hired to keep the locals and women out. There were seats reserved for vip members like purusha and dudes that donated way too much over the years, aswell as a huge lifted media stage crowded with giant cameras and videos crews. The majority of the space was just dusty covered concrete where the majority of people were left to fend for themselves. There was no shade, food, or water available.
It mush have been a couple hours that we sat around just waiting for something to happen…conversing with people that we knew and getting told to fuck off by purusha and other snobs in the vip seats when we’d try and talk to our friends. We quickly began to realize how bad things had gotten over the years with the hierarchy of king arthurs court and the stupid gold crowns and creamy attire and all that shit…I mean you’d think that all these enlightened dudes would at least be nice or understanding after dedicating their lives to meditation. We were expecting a friendly supportive crowd…but it just wasn’t that way…at least not for us…who had already been traveling in india for a month and were looking very unmovement…so we just kept to ourselves after that.
Then maharishi’s body finally arrived, surrounded by a parade of a thousand or more people, mostly Indians, all of whom stormed the barricade to join the ceremony. It was a super sketchy stampede of sorts like ive never seen …with people making human chains by holding hands to chorale the crowds and we just tried to stay out the fucking way and not get trampled…not the serine peaceful meditative experience we were expecting.
People threw garlands and flowers as maharishi’s body made its way to the stage and the crowds slightly calmed down while people clamored for a glimpse. Inside the perimeter around the stage about a dozen Indian men carefully constructed a bonfire once the body had been placed. A horribly redundant chanting blared over the load speakers from some guy that couldn’t hold a tune saying like ram ram over and over for eternity while the fire began to blaze and maharishi went up in smoke…it all just seemed more like a big media frenzy than anything actually spiritual or respectful.
The big fucker stunt of the event was some asshole hired a helicopter to fly overtop of maharishi’s body raining rose petals from the heavens…however grand that may sound in some retards imagination, it was a fucking disaster…dust was flying everywhere, flags got ripped down, and all I could do was duck and cover like it was desert storm or some shit. They finally flew off only to come back again and do it all over despite everyone waiving them off…the holy flowers were heaped out in plastic bags…its like who the fuck rains garbage from a helicopter on maharishi at his funeral and thinks hes somehow contributing to “holy” celebration. I swear some of these jokers in charge must be retarded.
Despite all the madness and the fact that Ian and I had only eaten shit for the past three days on no sleep, we sat out in the sun for six more hours without water until the end of the ceremony. The end of the ceremony was the most powerful part though, when all the crowds thinned out, and we walked around maharishi’s body and bowed down and touched our heads to the ground…it was hard not too cry really…and its hard to write about this too…but there were only so many honest people among the crowd…and I feel its necessary to report on what actually happened. Anyways, we found bobby roth in the inner circle and we sat down on either side of him holding hands…the sensation was very strong…bobby taught me how to meditate when I was five years old and he’s like our godfather…I couldn’t help but cry…as I do now, in this room, in varanasi, sitting on the bed, with bromaster…struggling to cope, with India, and eating and life and everything.
But who gives a fuck about that…after we meditated we walked out with bobby through the north gate and meet his good friend david lynch who is also a devotee of maharishi…nice to finally meet him…had some food and saw more friends and we all walked to sangam and hired a boat and bathed in the holy ganga…three times dunked under is the tradition…I still have a nasal infection from it…got off easy…turns out the sangam has some unique water born diseases that just straight kill people. But maharishi only dies once…and we didn’t go through all that just to wimp out on the dunks…even though in retrospect we probably shouldnt have.
We left the sangam and got some really sketchy rides back to town and that’s my story of the cremation of maharishi. With all that said, and with maharishi’s army of retards aside, I still respect his tradition and teachings to the fullest…im sure he taught me more about life than ill ever realize…and even though the ceremony was far from perfect or even what I was I expecting…im still glad I went…if for no other reason than to report on it from my own perspective…without having to hear it from some watered down movement news letter about how perfect it all really wasn’t. code

pushkar

Pushkar was an entirely different story, it’s the holiest city in all of rajasthan and was really small and cute. touristy for sure…but wasn’t bad for a change…it just meant better food, more nice people to meet, and great places to stay. At the center of pushkar is a small holy lake surrounded by 52 ghats…temples of worship…all built by different kings. It was wonderful to go down to the steps of the water and hang out with all the local pilgrims who would come down by the hundreds to bath in the lakes and make pujas. There were plenty of monkeys, cows, pigeons, and dogs in the mix too so it made for some great visuals…however the rules of the holy lake are no pictures allowed, so I followed the tradition and took zero…I think it was the right decision.
Anyways, we meet up with our friend celine from the amla farm and pretty much just kicked it for a week…didn’t do much sight seeing or photography…just chilled out flying kites on the roof, played lots of music, ate tons of falafels, and meet some other sweet kids from Switzerland, Israel, Australia, and Portugal.
The vibe of the city was great…everyone was super friendly and laid back and the town was so small that you could walk everywhere. It made a huge difference not having rickshaws around and all the noise and pollution and hassle that comes with big Indian cities. The city was filled with music, especially around sunset, when each temple would take turns rocking it for the gods. One night a cow snuck into the hotel lobby and was eating all the plants…chhagan killed us with this whole sneaky cow routine…his English was pretty bad…but he had mastered a sense of humor about it and was a very funny man like…secret cow, always sneaky, waiting, always hungry, plotting, patient cow, clever, always sneaky. That night we came up with name of our gypsy traveling band…COW HEADSTAND. For all this and more…pushkar is my favorite city thus far in India…and I recommend to anyone coming for a visit. we stayed about a week and then said goodbye to our dear brother chhagan who we sent back to his family in jaisalmer as we headed onward to delhi to meet noemi who was flying in from Budapest as planned. code

jodhpooer

Jumped from jaisalmer to jodhpur…more like jodpooer. Chhagan joined the brodown forces last minute as we were leaving his families village where they made us brothers signified by gifts and bracelets…its nice to have family in india. He was a sweet guy in his early twenties who joined us on the safari and was an excellent cook. It was fun having a local boy on the tour…but in a way he was an outsider too cause he came from a tribe and had very dark skin and people in India are super racist it turns out…a product of the caste system that is still in full effect, dividing classes through marriage and such, with tribal people falling at the bottom of the heap…often times not even allowed to own land.
Anyways, when we got to jodhpooer we had a hard time finding a room cause no one wanted the three of us staying together…some guesthouses don’t even allow Indians to get rooms…doesn’t make for very authentic experience…so we told them off and eventually found a kickass spot filled with art, handpainted walls, and enough room to play honkey da donkey…aka hacky sack.
Jodhpooer was just another busy smelly congested poo ridden Indian city…the only good thing good about it was the massive fort on top of a cliff 100m high where the views were spectacular, but even here we got harassed by the tourist police and weren’t allowed to walk together with chhagan through the fort…it was crap. The view was worth it though…its amazing how all the building fit together in some chaotic order and one alley leads to the next and things somehow have worked out architecturally in India with very little apparent planning. Anyways, after having random people on the street come up and tell us that chhagan wasn’t our friend and we should stay away from him cause hes dangerous and all this, we decided to the fuck out of poo town, and left the next day to pushkar. code

camel safari

Camel a safari...Dahl and chapatti…was the safari theme song with many variations originated from the leader of the our posse…praga. it was me and bromaster with five camel boys and three camels plus a cart. We were treated like kings…I mean maharajas…but its was still life on the range…which really only gets so fancy. We safaried for seven days outside of jaisalmer in rajasthan near the Pakistani border…the scenery was gorgeous…like a giant desert garden. It was mostly shrub desert with sand dunes dispersed about. The wild life was very rich with many animals…deer, goats, sheep, mice, lizards, beetles, snakes, scorpions, and many exotic birds.
We were outlaws for the weekend it turned out hiding at in the dunes so we could enjoy the national park. We were alluding the police from the beginning so we didnt have to pay for a permit that only lasted for four days when we planned and staying out for seven…like one night for every boy. The cart came in handy when out of the blue came the rains of night…we tried to stick it out and sprung out of bed soaked in the middle of the night dashing under the camel cart…all seven of us with all our stuff and we slept like babies and had the trippiest dreams…that was vulture dune….crawwwcaw.. so the next night we built a fort out of desert shrubs so we wouldnt have to all sleep under the camel cart again…it was fun the first time, but like the potentest camel chocking smell ever and the axel was my head rest.
Most nights, when it wasn’t raining, we’d sit around the fire making disca disco with sicko drum chang guitar riffs…fucking awesome…got some recordings of it even and the shit sounds like all fucking disca disco and were loosing it like crazy monkeys drinking desert whiskey and beating the shit out of all the pots and pans playing slide guitar hollering at the moon.
When we weren’t jamming out or feeding our faces, we’d go hunting for wild deer. like the secret native boy attack strategy was “the rattle of death”…the idea was run around the desert before the moon came up blinding deer with a flash light, rattling all these marbles in a metal jug as loud and fast as possible, until eventually, the deer would get tired enough to stop or freaked out enough to freeze and then whamm! Stick to the fucking head…never actually happened though, maybe its cause they were using the rattle of death marble jar instead of the bait and wait technique…I don’t really get it either way. the deer are really gorgeous though, and im glad we never killed one, but it was pretty fun running around in the desert like wild animals on the hunt.
Hunted some lizards one moring and cought a couple that fried up for breakfast…chapatti anyone…no really though, I cant believe how many roti/chapatti ive already eattin. Oh that reminds me of this lassi we had today that was like a milk shake with Indian sweets in it…very tasty and the oil sells for the price of gold…very healthy…just rub some on you cock…or so I hear.
Camels are officially my new favorite animal…they get these bad wraps of being stinky and spitting on people and bitting and this…but really, there like big friendly giants. The camel is the king of the desert though, and you have to respect there size. But swear, theyre cuties for sure. Camels are triple jointed in there legs so they fold over twice…twice is nice…right. there was Michael Jackson that was one of the camels…the other two were booboolou and desert boy…all fucking awesome.
More on camels….well, like freaky camel sex happens like a third of the year and at this time male camels like barf up this nasty intestinal sack out the side of their mouths and in sounds like someone making bubble in the pool with there mouth hole…this to the female camel is very sexy…the man camel also growls a lot…but actually they sound exactly like chewibaca…very cute. The camel boys are even more cute when there all talking about how much they love there camel in broken English and how very strong camel very good camel is being. So like riding camels can get pretty soar no doubt…like joggin on the camel was pretty torturous but who gonna complain about shit like that…not on this camel safari at least.
Anyways, ive never really been in sweet desert dunes before…so that was a unique and beautiful experience for the old memory banks…dunes are like trippy slow motion waves…so soft and so delicate yest always changing and still remaining…poetry in motion…that’s what they are. Poets used to be so alluring…now they no longer exist. So the dunes trap you in there silence and blow your mind back in time. Mind ripple keep on rolling and up the dune the sand keeps strolling with the rapid slow motion and unsung commotion till what is smaller and what is taller is all but a grain of sand.
The whole time we had a portable guesthouse with five helpers…who cooked and cleaned for us and took care of the camels and were our friends…very nice boys…ranging say 15-27. the luxury treatment for sure and it was less then ten dollars a day for the whole shabange…me and bro were definetly outnumber by the native boys from the surrounding villages…bhil people…a tribal group considered the lowest caste in India…but that made for an authentic experience and they treated us like kings. many of the camel boys work as stone breakers when theyre not on safari…so theyre very strong and very sweetie.
The first night we went out we visited praga’s village and it was the poorest village ive ever been…not only did they have no money, but they were stuck to live on barren desert land covered in stones…it was very sad not only poor in dollars but also in resources. The kids faces were all cracked and covered in grey powder from the stones…they turned out to be lovely sweet people after I got over all my germaphobias like boogery fingers and baby goat asses in my face and two year old girls giving me kisses and holding my hand, but that was like the sweetest thing ever…we made a party around the fire and the locals came around and banged on buckets and drums and guitars and we drank whiskey and danced and slept out under the stars with goats…the king of goodtimes…but really really poor.
The magificient seven camel boys out on the range. Proweling the deserts and the dunes for something…maybe it was the piece and quite…or maybe it was that special piece of shit…ive never seen so much shit in all my life…like the desert is giant poop cemetery…cause like theres usually no rain and so it just bakes in the sun and turns turns to stone and stays forever. Side note…I stepped in poop today and it got on my pants and im still wearing them. Did about a heap of laundry today and it not quite crunchy dry yet like my sunburned little lips on camela safari. .
I think the sand got to my brain…but one thing ive learned in India…when to breathe and when to hold your breath…the smells can be so bad that they’ll make you barf. also its really hard to get good sleep in here so im pretty freakin tired…shits always going down…and when I say down I mean right from the cows ass to the curb side…and the crap is still on my pants. code