My next stop was Sphatik Shilla. A small rock, sitting on the banks of the Mandakini river accompanied by a small shrine dedicated to Rama, marked another spot frequented by Rama, Sita and Lakshmana.
Sphatik Shilla
The place where I was staying was next to one of the busier roads in Chitrakoot and it’s constant bustle made me feel as though I needed some quiet. Sphatik Shilla granted me this quiet. The sun bounced off the dreamlike river as it went along its course and I was again reminded of the beauty of the place I was in. The only real noise around emerged from the Sadhu who occasionally would have to shout at a monkey that would try to take his food. I spent some time here reading the Ramayana, before moving onto Kamadgiri.
The Mandir at Sphatik ShillaMandakini River
Kamadgiri, which means ‘the fulfiller of all desires’, is the mountain said to mark the original Chitrakoot. Rama lived here, along with a great many sages, whom he asked to remain in Kamadgiri when he continued moving to the south. Rama told them even though his physical form would move on, his spirit would remain at Kamadgiri for eternity. The auras of these devoted sages are said to still reside in the mountain, and it is these sages, so generous in nature, that grant the wishes of those who come and visit, giving the place its name.
Entrance to Kamadgiri
The mandir at the entrance was filled with the incredibly powerful reverence of all those around, who then would embark on the a pradakshina, a circumambulation of a sacred place, of the mountain. It was a 5km walk barefoot. The walk was an experience and it was completed by many in a variety of different ways. Most walked, some cycled, some were on motorbikes, and some would even crawl along all the way, pushing along a small rock or coconut as they went. Not missing an opportunity to capitalise on this mass of people, there were shops all the way around, and in some places could even be found TVs, playing the Ramayana.
KamadgiriKamadgiri
Although the mountain itself was fenced off, its elegance was clear. I could imagine many thousands of years ago, people living here, in a peace not found in many places. I only wish I could have spent some time on it, as opposed to only walking around it.
Around Kamadgiri
I wondered how many of those selling along the street, did so because they thought being so close to Kamadgiri would grant them all they wanted, and if so, I wondered about what they might wish for. I then, seeing as I was there, asked myself what I would wish for. When travelling I take a good few things with me, for practicality and convenience, but whenever I have to check I have everything I really need, I look for only my passport and wallet, knowing the rest I can do without.
I thought that maybe wishing for something I really wanted was like this. There are a million things I want because they are there, but after reflecting, I knew there was only a few things that I really desired, and they were not all what I thought they would be. I knew that if I had these, the rest wouldn’t really matter. So, after gently asking the mountain for my wishes, I carried on walking, soaking up the energy of Kamadgiri.
I spent the morning at Sati Anasūyā, the mandir dedicated to the Sage Atri and his wife Ansūyā. Ansūyā is famed because through her severe asceticism she made the Ganga flow, after a drought that had persisted for ten years, returning life to where it had once been.
She spoke with Sītā, and enamoured with her virtue, offered her a boon. But, Sītā content with the love of Rāma, told Anasūyā she had no desires. Anasūyā smiled, and offered Sītā flowers, before asking Rāma, Sītā and Lakshmana to spend the night at their ashram.
After visiting this mandir which was filled with scenes depicting the Rāmāyana, I ventured into Gupta Godavari.
Ravana killing Jatayu
The story goes that Godavari, the river in modern day Maharashtra, knew Rāma was going to be in Chitrakoot. Her desire to see him in her physical form was immense. But, she was unable to do so having to abide by the laws of nature. However, whilst the river herself could not be moved to Chitrakoot, her spirit could, and in this form she went to see Rama.
Upon seeing him, she felt blessed. But, there was also a painful sadness, knowing she was so close to Rāma, unable to take her true form. As this pain enveloped her, a tear fell from Godavari, and landed on Rama. This tear was to become Gupta Godavari. The story expresses that even the Laws of Nature can be transcended by unconditional love.
Gupta Godavari from the outside
The caves were an adventure in themselves, with the water coming up to my knees and with rocks all around I was reminded of caves I had visited on school trips years ago. There was a mysterious feel to them, but maybe that was just the result of the dark and the sound of the trickling water I could pick out.
Gupta GodavariGupta GodavariMonkey at Gupta Godavari
There were small shrines in each cave where people came to have pujas done for them, and are probably what draws many to Gupta Godavari. Feeling I had explored enough, I exited the caves before sitting under a nearby banyan tree for a while. After observing the monkeys that seem to always be playing with each other, and the people who always seem to laughing with each other, I moved on from Gupta Godavari, and left Chitrakoot.
In the Rāmāyana, there is a passage where Rāma describes to Sita the beauty of the hills of Chitrakoot. ‘Parts of this king of mountains shine brightly, some glittering like silver, some blood red, some sparkling like the foremost of gems.’ The plants on the mountain ‘in their thousands sparkle like flames of fire on the top of the mountain at night.’ ‘The beautiful river Mandākinī with its delightful banks, is a stream inhabited by swans and cranes, and rich in flowers, hemmed in with trees of various kinds growing on its banks and laden with flowers and fruits.’
Leaving Chitrakoot, I began to understand why Rāma could have happily left his kingdom behind, so long as he could live in Chitrakoot.
After leaving Chitrakoot and heading further into the Dandaka Forest, Rāma, Sītā and Lakshmana encountered the repulsive man-eating demon Virādha. The demon sought to kill the wandering trio and a vicious fight ensued. Through their prowess, Rāma and Lakshmana prevailed. As he was dying however, Virādha revealed that he had been cursed long ago by Kubera, and his curse would only be lifted after being killed by Rāma. After, he would regain his normal form, and go to paradise. Thanking Rāma for freeing him from his curse, Virādha, whose real name was Tumburu, allowed himself to be killed by Rāma and Lakshmana. Before his death, he told the brothers that they should head towards Sharabhanga’s Ashram, and so they did, moving through the forest ‘like the moon and the sun in the sky’.
Sharabhanga’s ashram is located about 50km away from Chitrakoot, and so I went to see it on my way to Satna, which I was reaching by taxi. Turning off the main road, we drove down an orange dirt track, one that reminded me that in India even the dirt has a colour and vibrancy about it. Driving further and further away from the noise that pervades the roads, we eventually ended up at the Ashram, which was accompanied by only a few stalls selling chai just outside, and calm.
The Ashram
Sharabhanga was a great sage. He had accumulated so much tapas that he was granted access to Brahmaloka, the abode of Brahma, attained only by those who have realised Brahman. The God Indra had come down to earth to take Sharabhanga to the heavens with him. However, Sharabhanga, knowing that Rāma would soon be reaching him, sent Indra away, so he could meet with him, such was his reverence of the Prince of Ayodhya. Rāma glimpsed the golden chariot of Indra. However, knowing that Rāma should not see him until after his purpose on earth, the killing of Ravana, had been fulfilled, Indra left again for the heavens. The ashram where this all happened was the place I was going to see.
I walked through the gates and was greeted by the rather alarming bark of a dog who seemed to be guarding the door. After some Sadhus quietened him down, I proceeded to the Ashram. As I walked in I saw a small mandir and I sat down with a few Sadhus who were intrigued by my presence. It seemed to be a place frequented only by locals. I have tried my best not to draw too much attention to myself, but everything about me seems to be giving me away.
The Mandir which was closed off just before I could take a photo
In one of those conversations I am by now used to, with my broken Hindi, a great deal of gesturing and head-nodding, I told them that I was trying to follow the Trail of Rāma as in the Rāmāyana, at which point I showed them my book I was carrying with me. They all smiled, and told me to stay longer so I could have lunch with them.
My face beamed, realising how fortunate I was to be fed in such a place. I sat down on a straw mat with a few other Sadhus around me, and I was handed a thali of rice, daal, subzi and two roti, which were in places still lightly dusted with ash, as they had just been taken off the wooden fire. With only my hand I started eating, watched by those around me, who seemed to be pleasantly surprised that I could cope without cutlery. Like the space I was in, the food was divine. It was wonderful to just sit and eat, without the many distractions that I often think I need to keep me entertained.
Over lunch I was told about the events that happened in the Ashram, whilst also answering questions about how I found my trip, all in Hindi of course. I think that we all understood what the other was trying to say, but I can never be sure.
Finishing my food, I went to go and wash my plate, and for the first time during my trip my mind had wondered away from my bag I carry with me, containing my valubles. The stream was only a minute away, but, I told the Sadhu accompanying me I would just head back to get my bag, instinctively worrying about it. He looked at me with a stern face, but still with a smile in his eyes.
‘No tension!’ He said, as if being able to read my mind.
‘Free mind, no worry!’
I smiled, and enjoying letting go of my worry, I walked over to wash my plate. It was at this point I stopped and let out a slight grin, seeing how the plates I was eating off were washed. We took the outside of a coconut as a scrubber, dipped it in ash, and washed the plate, before rinsing in a small pool of seemingly still water. I laughed to myself and thought if I was going to get ill from anything in India, then an Ashram was the best place to do it. Luckily I have been fine.
After getting over this thought, I started washing my plate with cows wondering around behind me, in the sun, in the calm, and time itself seemed to stop. The only thing I thought about was the very thing I was doing in that moment. It was as if the ash I was using to clean the plate, took away my worries with it. Living in an ashram must at times be a wonderful thing.
The Sadhu who told me not to worry
Finishing cleaning and after conversing more with the Sadhus, who amongst other things asked me if I was married, I did my pranams and said my goodbyes.
Sharabhanga, after seeing Rāma, ascended to the abode of Brahma. After he left, other revered sages in the Ashram approached Rāma, and asked him for help. They informed Rāma that a great number of adharmi’s, those who do no act in accordance with duty, were killing sages throughout the forest, and they asked Rāma to protect them. Realising that his exile into the forest, was not the result of misfortune, but so that he could carry out this purpose, Rāma, without hesitation, agreed to find those committed to wrong, and to free the sages from their harm. The Prince of Ayodhya with his brother and his wife spent the next ten years fulfilling this purpose. They moved from hermitage to hermitage, staying in some places for many others, and others a single night. They philosophised with sages, practiced austerities, and fought off those demons in the forest who sought to harm them and sages around them. As this ten year period was up, Rāma one day felt a need to visit the Sage Agastya, just outside of Panchavatī in what is today Nasik. This was my next stop.
And so, with one last look behind me, appreciating what I knew had been a once in a lifetime experience, I thanked life and continued on the Trail of Rāma.
After some time travelling, the exiled trio found Agastya’s Ashram. They were welcomed in and asked the Sage where they should next spend their time. Meditating on this thought, Agastya, whose tapas was so strong that he knew the past, present and future, told Rama to go to Panchavatī, knowing where fate would take them from there.
They settled down in Panchavatī, today known as Nasik, and met their met the vulture Jatāyu, one of Dasharatha’s friends, who would spend his time watching over the three, protecting them in any way he could. But, the trio would not encounter only their friends whilst in Panchvatī.
The demon Shūrpanakhā, also roamed around the forest where our protagonists were was staying, and one day found them by chance. Shūrpanakhā, the sister of the mighty Rāvana, beheld Rāma ‘who looked like a god’. Instantly infatuated by the sight of the majestic Rāma, the demon approached him, asking to be his wife, by virtue of her strength and power.
Shūrpanaka, whose eyes were ‘bound by the cords of love’, dashed towards Sita, so Rāma would be left only to her. Rāma worried about his beloved Sita, without hesitation, instructed Lakshmana to cut off her nose and ears. In Sanskrit the word for nose is nasika, and it is this event that gives Nasik its name.
Shūrpanakha, however, was the sister of Ravana, the demon Lord Vishnu had come down to kill. Finally, fate had ensured the crossing of the paths of Rāma and Ravana.
She went back to her abode in Janasthāna and told another one of her brothers, Khara, what had occurred. Distraught at the sight of his injured sister, and full of the most hateful anger, Khara commanded fourteen demons whose prowess resembled death, to kill those brothers and Sita.
Rāma, after realising that conflict was unavoidable, took out fourteen arrows from his quiver ‘that shone as brightly as the sun’, and sent them flying towards his enemies. Shūrpanakha, horrified at what had transpired, fled back to her brother, to relate to him the news. She berated her brother for thinking himself strong, yet being unable to defeat a lone human, in the form of Rāma. Khara, insulted and humiliated, violently exclaimed that he himself along with his army of fourteen thousand demons, would ensure that the brothers Rāma and Lakshmana would not cause no more trouble to the demons in the forest.
Eager to know the outcome of the impeding battle, Rishis, Gods and Gandharvas all assembled, to watch over the earthly events, and to witness the virtue of Rāma.
Like dark clouds enveloping a mountain, the fourteen thousands demons threw themselves at Rāma. ‘possessed by anger as though burning with glory’, Rāma fought the army before him. A terrible battle ensued, but the Rāmāyana reads that at its conclusion, ‘fourteen thousand ogres of terrible deeds were killed by Rāma, a human being, fighting on foot., single-handed’.
Stunned, Shurpanakha went to Lanka to tell Rāvana what had happened. The furious Rāvana said he would go to kill Rāma himself. However, advised against it by his council who knew that Rama could not be defeated in battle. He was instead convinced of a plan. Steal Sita from Rama. Without Sita who was Rama’s very life, he would soon die of a broken heart.
Ravana turned to Maricha, a demon and master of expression whom Viswamitra had asked Rama to protect him from in the forest all those years ago. Maricha, once a demon, started to live the life of an ascetic, after twice having had his life spared at the hands of Srī Rāma. Fearful of Rāma’s power, Maricha tried to warn Ravana against this. ‘If you forcibly take Sita away in spite of being repeatedly dissuaded by me, you will reach the abode of death together with your kith and kin, your army being destroyed and your life brought to an end by the arrows of Rama’.
But Ravana did not accept the wise council of Maricha, ‘any more than a man courting death would accept a remedy’. He ordered Maricha to turn into a gold dear and present himself before Sita. Sita being so enamoured by the beauty of the life in front of her would ask Rama to catch it for her. Allowing Rama to follow him far away from Sita, Maricha was to call out to Lakshmana asking for help in Rāma’s voice. Thus Rāma and Lakshmana would be lured away from their ashram, leaving Sita alone.
Ravana told Maricha that he may face death at the hands of Rama if he did this, but would certainly be killed by Ravana now if he did not. Maricha was left feeling helpless. His king and his friend who was meant to protect those under him, had chosen to pursue a path that would lead only to death, Maricha, wanting to be killed by his enemy rather than his king, chose to help Ravana who was driven by anger.
Through tricking Rāma and Lakshmana and luring them out of their ashram, Sita was left alone. Ravana, in disguise, came and took Sita away. The Ramāyana reads that:
‘Seeing Sita bring borne away, the glorious sun itself felt wretched with its splendour totally eclipsed and its orb rendered pale.’
In the process Ravana killed Rāma’s dearest friend the bird Jatayu, who died protecting Sita. Sita was taken to Lanka, and Rāma was left without his heart, in the city of Nasik.
After a 12 hour train journey to Nasik, where I was fortunate to sit with a wonderful family who fed me all the way, I arrived in the city, the location where one of the darkest chapters of the Ramayana occurred.
A great many places in Nasik claim to be the location where certain events in the Ramayana happened, so I figured if I visited all of them, I might, with some luck, stumble upon the right ones.
I started off walking into Naroshankar Mandir, mistaking it for somewhere else. It was quiet so I decided to sit down inside. I chose a small perch as my seat, but after I had sat down I heard a rustleing. Again it continued, and worrying that I had sat near some mice, I leapt up. I checked and nothing was there. Just as I began to wonder what it was, two birds flew out from a nest above my head. In my worry I had assumed I was sitting by mice, without any thought that it could be birds. I guess worrying stopped me from seeing things as they were.
A bird in Naroshankar
Naroshankar MandirPandits and Papers
Next I visited the Kalaram Mandir. Famed as it houses icons of Rama, Sita and Lakshmana in only black, hence its name, the Mandir is one of the most visited in Nasik. Unable to take photos due to restrictions, I walked in, wondering what the place marking such dark events would have in store for me. I was immediately struck by its sombre feel. It’s quiet was piercing, and it is strangely enough the first place on my trip that triggered feelings of pain as I sat down in the Mandir.
The Kalaram Mandir
I moved on to Sita Gupha, supposedly the cave where Lakshmana took Sita, while Rama fought the 14,000 demons. Its location is marked with five banyan trees, said to give the area Panchavati its name.
One of the Banyan Trees (number 4 of 5)
I was less sure whether these trees really were around at the time or whether it was that exact cave that housed Sita, but trying to immerse myself in the story, I transported myself to the Ramayana, imaging all the events occuring as the story has been told.
In Sita Gupha
I proceeded to see a small icon of Ravana at the spot where he was said to have taken Sita. Reading the Ramayana as frequently as I have been and doing the Trail meant I could not help but feel a shiver down my spine as I did. I laughed to myself at how real the story felt in that moment.
Ravana
Continuing, I reached Tapovan, a word made up from two roots, tapas and vana, or spiritual practice and forest. It was said that this was the spot where Lakshmana did his tapas. Perhaps sensing his devotion, this space granted me a comfort that the others did not.
Showing the cutting off of Shurpanakha’s nose in TapovanTapovan
My first day in Nasik was a strange one. I had thought that each place I visited would only grant me more satisfaction, as I became more familiar with travelling, and more involved in the Trail. But Nasik did not give me that initially. I was filled with those feelings that were with me in Ayodhya, an uneasiness.
However, I think if this trip has taught me anything, it is that these feelings may recur, and they may never fully disappear. But, I know I can deal with them in whatever form they take.
With this in mind, not wishing to sit in my room with only worry as my company, I ventured out to Ramkund. Another spot frequented by Rama, it is also the hub of the mela, whenever it is in Nasik. All around me I saw colour, the air was filled with laughter and the Kund with life. I sat listening to music, appreciating all the joy that everyone around me exuded. I very quickly forgot about anything I was going through. In fact, I may go as far as to say that those moments, just sitting by the water, were some of the happiest of this trip.
Ramkund
Fulfilled after watching the sunset, I purchased a pleasingly sized dairy milk, and ambled home after an eye-opening day.
On my second day in Nasik, I decided to venture 30km out to Trimbakeshwar. Although not featured in the Ramayana, It is the location where one of the four drops of nectar fell from heaven, onto earth. The other three being Allahabad, Haridwar and Ujjain, the locations of the Kumba Mela. It is also one of the twelve jyotirlings in India.
I knew a rickshaw would not take me the 30km, and I knew a taxi would be expensive, so asking my hotel, I was informed that I could take a bus which ran every 30 minutes and would take me straight there, for the unbeatable price of 30 rupees, or about 40p. Deciding the bus would be an experience, I opted to take it. In the morning my ride was quite pleasant. I had a seat, it was not too hot and I enjoyed the novelty of being on an Indian bus for what I think was the first time.
The surroundings of the temple were beautiful. A montainous backdrop, hosting an enchanting village, it felt as though the area had soaked up the energy the temple seemed to exude. Inside the temple, the security was, as always, frustrating, with cages lining the way, and guards keen to push you through to keep the queue moving, but the space itself brought a calm, that most places like this seem to.
Trimbakeshwar (as close as I could get with my camera)
The village of Trimbak was where I had decided to get some food. I entered a small restaurant and had chai, roti smothered with ghee and subzi. The restaurant was small and unpretentious, and the food was wonderful. It is amazing how it takes only the simplest of things to fill me with happiness, and I felt as though as I could have just sat in that restaurant for hours, soaking up all around me.
The village of Trimbak
I wondered why I had not had this feeling before. Maybe it was the fact that I was just getting used to India, realising that I did not have to be in a familiar environment to be at ‘home’. Maybe I began to realise that home is not really one specific place, it is just where I felt most comfortable, and as long as I felt comfortable in myself, home could be anywhere. Maybe it was just that the food was really good.
Returning back, after an hour or so of daydreaming in the restaurant with a full stomach, I again took the bus. Getting on was itself a struggle. The famous ‘every man for himself’ notion was clear to see, with as many people forcing their way onto the bus as possible. There was an elderly lady next to me, and despite the fierce contest to get onto the bus, I couldn’t bring myself to push in front of her. However, just as I was about to move out of the way, she pushed me aside, probably sensing that my hesitation had left enough time for her to get on. It was not personal of course, or at least I hope not, just another day in India. She then dutifully climbed the stairs onto the bus. All I could do was laugh to myself, before beginning the crowded, hot, stuffy journey back.
I went to see the Pandavleni caves on my last full day in Nasik, and driving past the mountains around me that were talked of in the Ramayana made me think that maybe parts of the story really did happen here.
The caves themselves contained many intricate carvings in the stone walls, and are of Buddhist origins. The caves also had a wonderful echo to them, you can imagine me having fun testing this out, but also a few eerie dark chambers that although are empty, seemed to be filled with something strange.
Pandavleni cavesIn the caves
Chambers in the cave where monks would sitIn the caves
After visiting the caves I stopped by in an Indian McDonald’s, and my visit happened to coincide with the 4th day of the second test match between India and Australia. It had been a sublime match and this session would determine its outcome. India needed 7 wickets, and Australia 150 runs. Everyone in McDonald’s perched themselves by the TV watching closely, cheering or groaning at each delivery played. Even the staff, as they went about their work, tried to position themselves closer to the TV so they could glance the action.
There were frequent power cuts at the time, and every time the power went off the restaurant would erupt in sighs, only silenced when the TV came back on. Soon, wickets quickly fell and in the air could be felt an Indian victory. Satisfied the job was done, people started to leave, and the staff returned to work. It was a wonderful scene.
Despite this cheery chapter, walking home I could not help but feel like my stay in Nasik was missing something. Pondering what this could be, I continued back.
After spending a few hours hiding from the heat of the sun, I received a call. In Khajuraho, Ishan had told me he would put me in contact with his friend Mangesh, who was living in Nasik, and it was this Mangesh who was calling me. We had a wonderful conversation where he told me of some more sites I could visit that I would enjoy. One of them was Kapaleshwar Mandir, and this was one of my favourite places in Nasik.
Kapeleshwar Mandir
Mangesh then came to visit me in the evening, and I was again reminded of how much of a difference being in good company can make. After some stories about Nasik, he told me that if I wanted, he could pick me up in the morning and take me to a place believed to be the birthplace of Hanuman, before heading to the train station. He told me it was not very well known about, as there are other places which also claim this title, but I went to sleep that night feeling grateful and amazed that I could have missed seeing such a place, but I was not going to.
My train was at 11am that morning, which gave me a few hours before to get to the Hanuman Mandir, located just in front of Anjanaya Hill, named after Hanuman’s mother.
Mangesh picked me up and took me on a beautiful drive to the temple, where I again found myself surrounded by the mountains, the sun and blue skies.
Looking out from the Mandir
We arrived in the quiet. It was away from the built up areas of Nasik, and climbing up the stairs I could already tell I was going to enjoy the space inside.
I walked in, rang the bell above my head, and looked ahead to see an enourmous statue of Hanuman, which was at least four or five metres tall. Hanuman was painted in an orange so vibrant it seemed to fill the whole room with colour. It was still early in the morning so the sun shone on Hanuman through the gateway to the temple and brought even more life to the space. All of this and the Hanuman Chalisa that was playing in the background created an environment that only places dedicated to Hanuman can.
Hanuman
I descended the stairs, glad I had been brought to such a place.
The next stop was meant to be the station, but checking the train timing on my phone, I realised it was going to be late. I am still blown away that via my phone, I can check the location of any train at any time of the day throughout India and find its location with an impressive level of accuracy.
Mangesh laughed and told me that sometimes train delays can be a blessing in disguise, and with the extra time on our hands, he took me to eat. It was a large outdoor restaurant that served only one dish and one dessert. Misal Pav, local to Maharashtra, and Jalebi, fried in gur. As you can probably imagine for a place that seems to thrive serving only a few dishes, the meal was excellent, and if you have been reading my blogs or if you know me, you will by now know that if I have good food I am happy.
In the restaurant
In this frame of mind, I was taken to the station by Mangesh and I thanked him for looking after me as he had. It was wonderful meeting him.
Mangesh and I
That feeling that my visit to Nasik was missing something, disappeared, and feeling fulfilled, I boarded my train to Mumbai.
I was looking forward to my stay in Mumbai. It is India’s most populated city, playing host to around 18 million people. However, it is a metropolis that is also rooted in history, with influences still visible today both from within India from the likes of the Mauryas and the Chalukyas, and also from outside of India, most commonly from the Portuguese and the British. It is in many ways, a city of many worlds.
Chhatrapti Shivaji Terminus
Furthermore I was looking forward to staying with family in Mumbai. After being picked up from the station I was taken to their apartment. It is funny that even though it is a place I have never been to, I know when I am with family and I cannot help but feel at home. Thank you Mamaji, Mamiji, Avishi and Anika for looking after me so well.
Mumbai (Mamiji not pictured)
This part of my trip was not associated with Rama, but was a chance for me just to explore Mumbai. My first day was spent venturing around south Mumbai and whether it was mansions, mandirs, museums or monuments, I saw a great deal. Driving through and seeing Mumbai made me realise how diverse it really was. One minute I found myself passing tower blocks worth billions, and other times through slums.
My mind feasted on places such as the Gateway of India, a piece of living history, and my eyes on the expansive sea.
MumbaiMani Bhavan – Gandi’s residence whilst in MumbaiThe Ambani’s residenceThe Gateway of IndiaMumbai
At one point we were driving through a ‘silent zone’ which basically means car horns are not allowed to be used. I think it was the first time during my trip that I had been in a vehicle, and had not heard any noise. It felt strange, as though through the windscreen I was watching a film at the point where the sound is cut. In those few moments, everything seemed slow and surreal, and I was sitting, waiting for the second that the noise would suddenly return, bringing life back to its normal speed.
However, in Mumbai, some of my favourite times were just staying at home, enjoying the company of family, or playing hide and seek in the gardens with Avishi and Anika. With all of the travelling I had been doing it was wonderful just to slow down for those few days.
The next day I had decided to explore Elephanta Island. Six miles from Mumbai, it is full of caves that are believed to date back to the 8th century. Setting off from the Gateway of India by boat and looking back, I could not help but feel struck by the historical significance of the area. The last British troops to leave India had walked out through the Gateway, before boarding the ships and sailing back. The Gateway would have been the last part of India they saw. Looking back I could not help but wonder what they thought as they left. It was an event that would mark the start of a new era for both the British and for India.
The Gateway of IndiaOn the Boat to Elephanta
The caves themselves were impressive, hosting a range of icons dedicated to Shiva. I thought I may as well have a guide just so I would know a little bit more about the place I was seeing. Very soon a guide, probably seeing me try to eavesdrop on the guides of other around me, approached me. We agreed a price and I had myself a guide.
Bhrama, Shiva and VishnuGanesh
He was keen to remind me that the statues were regularly used for target practice by the Portuguese, which was either his favourite fact or the only one he knew as he referred to it a great number of times without a lot else. I decided to politely leave him half way through, realising he actually didn’t know anything more than was written on the signs on the way in to the caves. He told me to ask him questions, and the ones I did ask, such as why this spot was chosen or why certain statues were the way they were, were met with the reply: ‘The caves are very old, how can I know such things.’
I guess sometimes it happens I told myself, not regretting I had tried to get a guide, just enjoying the irony of the one I had ended up with.
The rest of my stay was spent relaxing, eating wonderful food and enjoying the company of those around me.
I had seen so many different worlds in Mumbai, and I had a feeling my next destination would again be a completely different world altogether, as I was off to the beaches of Goa.
