There is great truth inherent in the saying, "It is not the destination that matters, but the journey itself." I have made good friends with a human named Matthew from England. With plans to make a pilgrimage in July, we decided to give ourselves a trial-run yesterday in Rishikesh: the yoga capital of the world, home to dozens of Hindu temples and the holiest river, the Ganges.
Matthew and I took a shared jeep from Dehradun to Rishikesh; about a 40-minute drive. In the shared jeeps they squeeze 12 human beings into a space that really only comfortably seats 8. The close proximity of the passengers, scorching summer heat, and India traffic certainly make for an interesting ride.
There are no single-file lines in all of India; rather, the manner in which you get yourself where you need to be involves implementing whatever method possible. This includes driving. Thus, at any point in time where traffic was not moving fast enough, our jeep driver would instantaneously start driving on the other side of the road. You would look up and think to yourself, "Oh, here we are...on the other side of the road...there's a bus driving straight towards us." The driver would pull away just in time and resume driving on the correct side of the road. At the next stoppage of traffic, he would swerve around various vehicles and start driving on the other side again. You would say to yourself, "Oh, here we are again...on the other side of the road." Repeat this process for 40 minutes. It is probably best to not look and to just trust that you will get where you need to be in due time.
When we finally arrived to Rishikesh we were looking to find our way to Ramjhula, the large bridge suspended over-top the Ganges River, which we would eventually cross. Rishikesh is a busy city; many people are on some sort of journey here; dozens of people are bathing themselves in the Ganges at any given moment.
Our eventual goal was to arrive at Neelkanth Mahadev Temple, a major pilgrimage site for Hindus. We knew that the trek to Neelkanth from Rishikesh was a 12-km hike up the Himalayan mountains; we just needed to figure out how to get there. We expected the hike would take us 3-4 hours. Before asking anyone for directions, we looked up and saw a temple in the mountain range. Excited, we said to ourselves, "That's it!" and we started trekking along the path. We were walking up the steep hills for a bit, accumulating sweat on our bodies, and quickly the distance between us and the temple was diminishing. Feeling cocky for having arrived in 30 minutes, we approached the temple to realize this actually was not the temple we were searching for. We laughed at how our egos had lead us blindly to the wrong place (probably only 2-km away from where we started), and retraced our steps back down the mountain.
We started this time the right way: asking for directions first. After being turned around in circles by several people's only partially accurate directions, we eventually found a parking lot full of shared jeeps that were taking the drive to the temple. We asked which direction the temple was, and we were told to hop in the jeep. Upon telling them that we wanted to hike to the temple instead, we received a plague of blank stares and "...that's far!" Realizing we were persistent in making the trek, they kindly pointed us in the right direction; a path leading up the Himalayan mountains; an eventual 12-km to our destination. Finally, we were on the right path.
No temple could be seen in sight; just an inviting forest of trees, mountains and monkeys which would be our fellow companions on this journey. We had no idea how long it would take to make the trek, if there would be any place to get water along the way, or really if the road we were on would ever even lead us to the planned destination.
We hiked along the path for awhile. The incline of the mountain and the summer heat were both surely taking a toll on us. Never quite sure of how far we had already traveled or how much longer was left to go, we kept along the path and stopped every so often to catch our breaths and enjoy the remarkable view overlooking the city of Rishikesh at large.
The longer we continued walking and the more the sun continued to dominate the sky, the more tired our legs grew and the more our bodies demanded rest. There was a point in the journey where the steep incline made each individual step pressing, requiring somewhat of an intellectual calculation so as not to fall and slip off the side. Our legs felt like jello, our breath was contrived and heavy, and at this point in time the thought of the quick and effortless jeep ride up the mountain sounded quite tempting. I kept remembering the passage of the Quran that reads, "Verily, with every difficulty there is relief." Our journey had been pressing, but relief was surely due to come.
Every now and then we would see a building amongst the mountains in the distance. We would say to ourselves "Surely that must be it." Then we would continue along and encroach on the place only to find that was not the temple quite yet. Along the way we had met several others who were making the same trek to the temple; it is a feeling that carries you to where you are going-- the feeling of sharing the journey in its pain/beauty/defeat/glory with other human beings. Actually, Matthew and I had become quite famous along the way. Several people who passed us on the way down the mountain asked to take pictures with us, giggly and shy in their mannerisms as if we movie stars. We were just white people.
We were several hours into our journey, and it did not seem as if there was much more mountain to be climbed (though mountains can be deceiving). I felt lightheaded and headache-y, and found solace in each swift of wind and shaded rock, though few and far between. The path had brought us to a small village in the mountains just outside of Rishikesh, and at this point the road was on less of an incline. After 4 hours of trekking, we had made it safely, exhaustedly and happily to Neelkanth Mahadev Temple.
For a spiritual place, there is such an unattractive culture of begging, deception and lack of genuineness. From the moment you step on the temple grounds, you are hounded by sales people trying to sell you various prayer beads or blessings, anything to up your status and get you on good terms with your God. A man walked up to Matthew and I, gave us a blessing by touching our foreheads, and then immediately put his hands in front of our faces and said "Money." I said, "No thank you" and walked away.
Beside the temple was a large line of barefooted humans impatiently crowding around one another and waiting for their opportunity to receive a blessing and bow down to the temple and Shiva. There are several signs which read, "Pay X amount and your family will receive blessings for X many years." Make an even larger contribution and your family will be blessed for even longer. Still an even larger contribution and bless you and your family; you are on great terms with God now. The larger the contribution, the more your spiritual bulge increases.
Why people fight over ritual has got nothing at all to do with anything spiritual. The most spiritual aspects of that place were not even the temple itself, though it was beautiful. I only stuck around for maybe two minutes at the most in observation of the temple and the people because I knew my having arrived at the temple was never really the point. For me, the destination was irrelevant. It was the 4-hour long excruciating journey along the way that was the real test of my character.
I walked away from the crowd of people-- all the shops, and all of the sales people-- and stood alone in observation of the mountain and its mystique. Somebody long ago had made this same journey, before the town had been capitalized, before roads had been paved up the mountain, and they decided to build a temple there because it meant something. For them it was the journey; there was no destination yet. They were creating it. I stood and observed and imagined those very people at some point in time making this same journey; how hard it must have been to transport the materials by foot that would eventually make up the structure of the temple; how they succeeded.
Who would want to miss out on the opportunity of this test of one's character and instead take a helicopter or a car or a jeep up to the top of the mountain?
Matthew and I took a shared jeep from Dehradun to Rishikesh; about a 40-minute drive. In the shared jeeps they squeeze 12 human beings into a space that really only comfortably seats 8. The close proximity of the passengers, scorching summer heat, and India traffic certainly make for an interesting ride.
There are no single-file lines in all of India; rather, the manner in which you get yourself where you need to be involves implementing whatever method possible. This includes driving. Thus, at any point in time where traffic was not moving fast enough, our jeep driver would instantaneously start driving on the other side of the road. You would look up and think to yourself, "Oh, here we are...on the other side of the road...there's a bus driving straight towards us." The driver would pull away just in time and resume driving on the correct side of the road. At the next stoppage of traffic, he would swerve around various vehicles and start driving on the other side again. You would say to yourself, "Oh, here we are again...on the other side of the road." Repeat this process for 40 minutes. It is probably best to not look and to just trust that you will get where you need to be in due time.
When we finally arrived to Rishikesh we were looking to find our way to Ramjhula, the large bridge suspended over-top the Ganges River, which we would eventually cross. Rishikesh is a busy city; many people are on some sort of journey here; dozens of people are bathing themselves in the Ganges at any given moment.
Our eventual goal was to arrive at Neelkanth Mahadev Temple, a major pilgrimage site for Hindus. We knew that the trek to Neelkanth from Rishikesh was a 12-km hike up the Himalayan mountains; we just needed to figure out how to get there. We expected the hike would take us 3-4 hours. Before asking anyone for directions, we looked up and saw a temple in the mountain range. Excited, we said to ourselves, "That's it!" and we started trekking along the path. We were walking up the steep hills for a bit, accumulating sweat on our bodies, and quickly the distance between us and the temple was diminishing. Feeling cocky for having arrived in 30 minutes, we approached the temple to realize this actually was not the temple we were searching for. We laughed at how our egos had lead us blindly to the wrong place (probably only 2-km away from where we started), and retraced our steps back down the mountain.
We started this time the right way: asking for directions first. After being turned around in circles by several people's only partially accurate directions, we eventually found a parking lot full of shared jeeps that were taking the drive to the temple. We asked which direction the temple was, and we were told to hop in the jeep. Upon telling them that we wanted to hike to the temple instead, we received a plague of blank stares and "...that's far!" Realizing we were persistent in making the trek, they kindly pointed us in the right direction; a path leading up the Himalayan mountains; an eventual 12-km to our destination. Finally, we were on the right path.
No temple could be seen in sight; just an inviting forest of trees, mountains and monkeys which would be our fellow companions on this journey. We had no idea how long it would take to make the trek, if there would be any place to get water along the way, or really if the road we were on would ever even lead us to the planned destination.
We hiked along the path for awhile. The incline of the mountain and the summer heat were both surely taking a toll on us. Never quite sure of how far we had already traveled or how much longer was left to go, we kept along the path and stopped every so often to catch our breaths and enjoy the remarkable view overlooking the city of Rishikesh at large.
The longer we continued walking and the more the sun continued to dominate the sky, the more tired our legs grew and the more our bodies demanded rest. There was a point in the journey where the steep incline made each individual step pressing, requiring somewhat of an intellectual calculation so as not to fall and slip off the side. Our legs felt like jello, our breath was contrived and heavy, and at this point in time the thought of the quick and effortless jeep ride up the mountain sounded quite tempting. I kept remembering the passage of the Quran that reads, "Verily, with every difficulty there is relief." Our journey had been pressing, but relief was surely due to come.
Every now and then we would see a building amongst the mountains in the distance. We would say to ourselves "Surely that must be it." Then we would continue along and encroach on the place only to find that was not the temple quite yet. Along the way we had met several others who were making the same trek to the temple; it is a feeling that carries you to where you are going-- the feeling of sharing the journey in its pain/beauty/defeat/glory with other human beings. Actually, Matthew and I had become quite famous along the way. Several people who passed us on the way down the mountain asked to take pictures with us, giggly and shy in their mannerisms as if we movie stars. We were just white people.
We were several hours into our journey, and it did not seem as if there was much more mountain to be climbed (though mountains can be deceiving). I felt lightheaded and headache-y, and found solace in each swift of wind and shaded rock, though few and far between. The path had brought us to a small village in the mountains just outside of Rishikesh, and at this point the road was on less of an incline. After 4 hours of trekking, we had made it safely, exhaustedly and happily to Neelkanth Mahadev Temple.
For a spiritual place, there is such an unattractive culture of begging, deception and lack of genuineness. From the moment you step on the temple grounds, you are hounded by sales people trying to sell you various prayer beads or blessings, anything to up your status and get you on good terms with your God. A man walked up to Matthew and I, gave us a blessing by touching our foreheads, and then immediately put his hands in front of our faces and said "Money." I said, "No thank you" and walked away.
Beside the temple was a large line of barefooted humans impatiently crowding around one another and waiting for their opportunity to receive a blessing and bow down to the temple and Shiva. There are several signs which read, "Pay X amount and your family will receive blessings for X many years." Make an even larger contribution and your family will be blessed for even longer. Still an even larger contribution and bless you and your family; you are on great terms with God now. The larger the contribution, the more your spiritual bulge increases.
Why people fight over ritual has got nothing at all to do with anything spiritual. The most spiritual aspects of that place were not even the temple itself, though it was beautiful. I only stuck around for maybe two minutes at the most in observation of the temple and the people because I knew my having arrived at the temple was never really the point. For me, the destination was irrelevant. It was the 4-hour long excruciating journey along the way that was the real test of my character.
I walked away from the crowd of people-- all the shops, and all of the sales people-- and stood alone in observation of the mountain and its mystique. Somebody long ago had made this same journey, before the town had been capitalized, before roads had been paved up the mountain, and they decided to build a temple there because it meant something. For them it was the journey; there was no destination yet. They were creating it. I stood and observed and imagined those very people at some point in time making this same journey; how hard it must have been to transport the materials by foot that would eventually make up the structure of the temple; how they succeeded.
Who would want to miss out on the opportunity of this test of one's character and instead take a helicopter or a car or a jeep up to the top of the mountain?
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