Month: February 2017

Nandigram is about 20km from the hotel where I was staying, so I knew getting there was not going to be as easy as I would have wanted, especially given the lack of transport in and around Ayodhya. Luckily, the rickshaw driver that had taken me around the day before had said he would drive me, so at least I had a way there and back.

I was told by him the only place one can really visit in Nandigram is Bharata Kund, the place where Bharata spent most of his time during his 14 year leave from the kingdom. I had tried to find other places but Nandigram is not very well documented, so my trip to there was to visit this place.

It is special as it is said to be the location where Bharata performed funeral rites for Dasaratha, but also because it is where he lived after doing so.  Something which makes it one of two places in the world where certain funeral rites can be undertaken, which would appease seven of ones previous generations of ancestors, according to those who I spoke to. Additonally, Bharata’s qualities of selflessness, devotion and non possessiveness are said to still reside there.

The space itself was beautifully simple. A pool of water, surrounded by small shrines marked Bharata Kund, the water possessed a poise, and its stillness made one feel as though time itself was slowing down. Bharata, voluntarily left everything behind, out of his devotion to Rama. He ruled the Kingdom without ever being king, and that can be felt in the humility of Nandigram.

I spent a wonderful hour soaking this all up, but as is often the case, things can sometimes be too good to be true and it was at this point that the rickshaw driver started to pester me.

We had agreed a price at the start which by UK standards was cheap, but in India was expensive. I knew this at the time but struggling to find another way of reaching Nandigram I tried not to think too much of it. But as I spent more time there, there were persistent requests for more money, he followed me around as if trying to wear me down. He continued to annoy me so much and for such a long time, that for the first time, I think in my life, I ended up shouting at someone with a real force. After this he stopped asking for money so something must have worked, but it was a shame it happened in such a peaceful place.

In ‘At the Eleventh Hour’ Swami Rama tells Panditji that ‘deception is powerless to withstand the air of Nandigram’ and maybe my anger was so vivid due to an inability to hide it. In the same way, maybe the driver kept asking for money because he simply could not help it.

Looking back on the experience I am glad it happened when it did. This newly found forcefulness has so far stayed with me when I have needed it, and I have already found that I am being hassled less and less by those around me.

I feel with each day increasingly grateful to be having the experiences I am.

Valmaki’s Rāmāyana describes Ayodhya as a world-renowned city. It describes the unmatched prosperity of Ayodhya and all those who resided in the city that was unexcelled on the earth.

But, I have realised that Ayodhya is not the vibrant city I wanted it to be. The shops in the streets sell only cheap toys or objects for puja. They lack colour and energy, and feel consumed by the dust around them. It feels like India has given up on Ayodhya.

Maybe Ayodhya is still stuck in 1992, unable to move past the attacks that happened here. I wondered why when planning my trip I could only find one hotel, and it seems as though no one wants to invest in Ayodhya.

The only reason many do come to Ayodhya is because of the Rāmāyana, and the mandirs and shrines that do exist are Ayodhya’s redeeming feature. The oasis in the desert. Yet, at the same time, a supposed ‘love’ for the Rāmāyana has been used to justify violence. The actions of those people has held all of Ayodhya back from being able to live in its own light.

The Rāmāyana finishes with Rama returning to Ayodhya bringing in ‘Ramraj’. The rule of Rama, ushering in an age where no one would suffer and everyone is well, was meant to last 11,000 years. It feels as though that time is over.

But Ayodhya has two sides, and while it is in in many ways imperfect, amongst the tension that can be felt, there is a light. It exists within the temples themselves and within some of those who devote their lives to these places.

I hope this light, although fading, does not burn out.

I knew about the difficulties surrounding train travel in India. The first of such journeys I ever did was when I was ten years old, and the train had been delayed to such an extent, that the journey ended up lasting twenty-four hours.

My first train ride this time, however, went incredibly smoothly. I was scheduled to board the train at the first station stop so the train arrived early, I found my name assigned to the right seat and everything went well. It was only a four hour journey during the day so I was able to see India as I went along, and we were only twenty minutes delayed (which for India is, if anything, early).

The return journey was the exact opposite. I was catching the train halfway through its course and at Ayodhya station there really was nothing to do, apart from enjoy the company of the animals. I had arrived an hour and a half early, partly because I didn’t want to do too much wondering around with my full bag, but also because of the unpredictability of trains in India. Unsurprisingly, I arrived to find my train was already an hour delayed.

So, I decided to enjoy the zoo before me. Pigeons, monkeys, dogs, cows and even a goat all strutted around the platform. However, it did mean that no one could eat any food on the platform. As soon as anything was opened monkeys would try to take it from you, often successfully, as I found with the packet of crisps I was looking forward to. Dogs would stare with those eyes that are difficult to resist, and pigeons would fly overhead, as if waiting for a clearing so they too could enjoy some food.

So I was waiting for two hours over lunch without food before I found that my train would be another three hours late. By the time it arrived I had been waiting five hours and it was dark. I found my seat to have been already taken by a family of three generations, who claimed the top bunk where they were meant to be sitting was too difficult to reach, and not having much energy to fight I reluctantly agreed to the swap.

Getting onto the train halfway through also meant there was no room for my bag, so hauling it onto my bunk, where there was just about room for one of us let alone both, it stayed with me for the journey which should have been four hours but was more like six. Having not slept, I arrived at 1:30am grateful to finally be at my hostel after what had been a very long day.