The Trail of Rama

February 17, 2017December 1, 2020

The night without sleep in my quirky hotel

My hotel in Ayodhya is on the surface normal. Yet, walking into reception on my first night I immediately saw its quirks. With four or five employees standing at reception, surrounding me, all equally keen to take my bag and welcome me in, I knew this was going to be an interesting stay. From the waiter who runs between rooms with trays full of food, or the struggle of receiving wifi from a portable device that is shared throughout the hotel, my stay has made me laugh.

Looking back, although at the time it was rather irritating, the Saturday night I spent here was quite funny. The hotel runs weddings and that was the night of a wedding party. From being empty, the hotel was suddenly full. The space outside was prepared with food, chairs, a stage and so many people taking selfies that it seemed strangely like a teenage house party. With music so unnecessarily loud that when it played my room would vibrate violently along with it, I knew it was going to be a night without much sleep. But the noise did not stop there.

The hotel rooms from the hallway are all identical, as one would expect them to be, apart from the glaring room number which everyone seemed to miss, or ignore. So, assuming they had booked the entire hotel, or simply not realising which room they were at, for the entire duration of the night I had people loudly banging on my door, shouting in and ringing the doorbell as if it were strange that someone could be sleeping in the middle of the night.

I suppose I was lucky to get my three hours sleep between 2:30 and 5:30.

Waking up the next day, and exiting my room, I was again reminded of those wonderful teenage house parties. The hotel was a mess, covered in flowers and confetti, the staff looked like they had been through a war, and the guests were sleeping, sprawled on the sofas in the reception and the restaurant. I laughed to myself, before setting out for the day.

February 19, 2017December 1, 2020

The Devotion of Bharata

This continues on from my previous post entitled ‘The Rāmāyana’.

King Dasaratha died of grief soon after Rāma was sent into exile, leaving the Kingdom of Ayodhya without a king, and a ‘state without a ruler is really no better than rivers without water’. Understanding that without a king, Ayodhya may quickly fall to ruin, Bharata, who was staying with his grandfather during these events, was sent for, so he could be crowned king.

Bharata, who thought of Rāma as ‘my brother, my father and my mother,’ arrived in Ayodhya, surprised by the lack of life in the city he loved so much. He saw Ayodhya bereft of joy, with even the ‘trees shedding tears in the form of leaves’. Unaware of what had unfolded, and seeking an explanation for the state of Ayodhya he went in search of his father.

Unable to find him, he instead found his mother Kaikeyi, who ‘infatuated by greed of sovereignty’ related to Bharata those terrible events as if they were agreeable to hear.

Upon hearing the news, the Rāmāyana reads that ‘Nature, which is ever kind, allowed him a respite of a few moments by letting him faint’. He was heartbroken. He was furious. His father and his brothers were his world and in a moment Bharata had been told that his world had disappeared. Refusing to recognise Kaikeyi as his mother, he told her the only reason he did not want to kill her was that Rāma would not forgive him. He refused the throne which he knew was meant only for his brother, and he promised that he would set out to find Rama, and make him return to Ayodhya.

Bharata had decided that he would go to Rāma and tell him that he would spend fourteen years in the forest in his place, allowing Rāma to go back and rule Ayodhya, whilst also upholding his father’s vow. Failing this, Bharata told himself he would stay with Rāma and spend his time in exile with him.

First he went to consult Sage Bharadwāja, who knew the whereabouts of his brother. Bharata took with him Vashista, his mothers, his brother and his entire army, all with the hope of convincing Rāma to come back and rule Ayodhya. Bharata found Bharadwāja, and was told where he could find his two brothers and Sita. But, before setting off, Bharadwāja sensed the anger that Bharata felt to his own mother, for causing these events to happen. The Sage, who knew all, spoke to Bharata:

‘Kaikeyi. O Bharata, should not be regarded by you as guilty; for this banishment of Śrī Rāma will result in happiness to all.’

Bharata thanked the Sage for his wisdom and his hospitality, and went to Chitrakoot, to find his brother Rāma.

Upon seeing Rāma, Bharata collapsed at his feet. Rāma, however, felt no anger towards his brother, and immediately inquired about the welfare of his father, Bharata, and his other family in Ayodhya. Hearing that of his father’s death, Rāma fell to the ground in despair. The retinue performed the funeral rights for the deceased king, before continuing their discussion.

Bharata implored Rāma to return to rule Ayodhya. He even said that if Rāma refused to come back, that he would join him in his exile, not wishing to rule in his brother’s place. Next, Vasishta, Rāma’s teacher, told him it was his duty to rule Ayodhya. Still, Rāma refused to act contrary to the wishes of his father.

Rāma knew that he had to stay, his only wish being to obey his father. Bharata continued trying to convince him to return, but explaining to Bharata the power of fate, which cannot be altered, Rāma’s determination to remain in the forest was unfaltering.

Bharata was moved by his brother’s words. However, he knew that he himself could not rule the kingdom. So he told Rāma that he would stay in the forest in his place, and Rāma could return to the kingdom. Moved, but unwilling to compromise, Rāma knew he could not leave.

Finally, resigned to fate, Bharata placed two sandals inlaid with gold to his brother’s feet. He asked Rāma to place his feet on them, so they could be taken to the kingdom, and rule in Rāma’s name. Bharata would oversee the ruling of the kingdom, but with Ayodhya filled with too much pain fo him to remain there, he spent fourteen years in Nandigrama, just outside of Ayodhya, where he endured all of his suffering, living like Rāma until he returned. In this way Bharata ruled the Kingdom for his brother, and dharma was upheld due to the actions of the noble Bharata, who was devoted to Rāma.

Nandigram was the place I was going to visit next.

February 23, 2017December 1, 2020

Nandigram

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.

February 23, 2017December 1, 2020

Reflecting on Ayodhya

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.

February 25, 2017December 1, 2020

Those types of train journey

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.

February 26, 2017December 1, 2020

The Pizza Moment

I was at this point almost two weeks into my trip. I had visited amazing places and had once in a lifetime experiences wherever I went, but I still did not feel comfortable. Maybe it was being away from home, surrounded by a great deal of uncertainty that accompanies one when travelling to new places alone.

I was back in Varanasi to catch a train onwards and so I had decided to have lunch in a pizza place I had found on the river Ganga, before setting off. It was an outdoor restaurant with an impressive wood chip pizza oven in a beautiful setting. I was sitting eating, and still feeling uneasy when I stopped and had a thought.

I was in one of the oldest cities in the world, in one of the most beautiful parts of the world. It was twenty-five degrees and the sun was shining. I was on a year off from school travelling the world and to top it all off, I was eating pizza.

I realised that sometimes the easiest thing I could do in the situation I was in was worry. But, if I took a step back and just appreciated where I was, I was happy. I hope I can carry this thought with me, wherever I go.

February 27, 2017December 1, 2020

The Wedding at Khajuraho

I arrived in Khajuraho on the 15th February, where I was to have a short break from the Trail, to attend the wedding of some of our closest friends, who are really family, Ishan and Shiva. The event also meant I was able to meet up with my parents and Nish, my brother, for just under a week. After a few weeks of travelling alone, I could not help but appreciate the company of those closest to me.

The wedding also allowed me to meet with a great number of other friends and I enjoyed a restful few days in the Ashram at Khajuraho with good food and good company. The ceremony itself was beautiful, a feast of colour for the eyes, food for the stomach and emotion for the heart that left everyone with a smile on their faces.

We briefly visited the temples in Khajuraho, and i really do mean brief, it was a 15 minute quick walk through them to ensure we saw as much as possible before closing time. The rush was down to the fact that, as we often do, we had prioritised food over seeing the sights.

The few days I was there seemed to fly by and before I knew it, the time had come to set off to Allahabad to continue the Trail. I am fortunate to have the family that I do, as they decided to join me for this leg of the journey.

Although I was not directly on the Trail, staying in an ashram gave me another experience linked to it. Rama, along with Sita and Lakshmana, spent a great number of his 14 year exile staying in ashrams. Places where I find I do not have to worry about the problems in the world I am so used to living in, giving a space and a freedom to just be. I would also be staying in an ashram in Allahabad, my next stop, and I will elaborate on this further in my next post.

March 3, 2017December 1, 2020

Allahabad

Rāma’s time in Allahabad was limited to a single night, which he spent with the Sage Bharadwāja. He did not want to spend too much time in a place that was still so close to Ayodhya. My stay was a luckily a bit longer.

So, my family and I embarked on what should have been an 8, but was of course an 11, hour taxi ride to Allahabad.

When in Khajuraho I was fortunate enough to receive a list of places I should visit related to the Trail in Allahabad and Chitrakoot from Panditji. In Allahabad they included Bharadwāja’s ashram. There were also 12 temples devoted to Vishnu, or Narayana, who was born on earth as Rama. These included the Sangam, the confluence of the rivers Ganga, Saraswati and Yamuna, which is what makes Allahabad as famous as it is.

On the first day, my family and I set off to start visiting these places. Each space was wonderfully different. Two of the temples were dedicated to Hanuman and while one was a quiet cave inducing calm, the other was an explosion of life, colours, sound and energy. From mandir to mandir we went doing puja and appreciating what each represented. I know we all returned back that evening feeling simply grateful to have seen and felt what we did.

The next day, the four of us and my Bhua who we were staying with in Allahabad set off to visit Bharadwāja’s Ashram. Rāma, Sitā and Lakshmana were offered food, and a place to sleep at the ashram, and spent the night philosophising with the revered sage.

Although, it seems as though its importance has been taken advantage of. People hang around the temple with their hands outstretched asking for money for the maintaince of the space, even though it is clear from the piles of rubbish around that the money probably doesn’t end up where it should. However, blocking out the superficial, we sat, next to a goat would you believe, and did what we had at every other mandir.

Re-reading the Ramayana, it seems surreal to be visiting these places that are of such importance in the book. I am continually amazed at how they are all still seen as immensely important spaces.

The afternoon was spent shopping and also receiving one of those special ‘Indian shaves’ which my description will not do justice. Anyone who has had one will, I hope, know what I mean.

The next day I said goodbye to the rest of my family who were returning home, and feeling grateful that I had been able to see all of the places I needed to with them by side, I waved them off. Thank you for staying with me.

I again was staying in an ashram and its calm seemed to reveal thoughts and feelings which I didn’t know were there, and they were humbling. The Ramayana reads that Rama was happiest when he was staying in ashrams with those closest to him. He had his world with him in Sita and Lakshmana, and knew he needed nothing else.

Maybe it is the fact that you can detach yourself from everything you and those around you think you should be, when staying in these places that makes them special.

I guess the trick is being able to do that wherever you are.

Whilst at the ashram, Rāma also asked the sage where the trio should go next to peacefully live out their fourteen years of exile. Bharadwāja told them they could go to Chitrakoot. This was my next stop, on my own Trail of Rāma.

And so, just as I was ready to stay in Allahabad for a good period of time I was off again, to visit the the magical Chitrakoot.

March 3, 2017December 1, 2020

The taxi ride to Chitrakoot

I had decided to take a taxi to Chitrakoot from Allahabad. Given that the last taxi trip ended up taking eleven hours, I entered the car fingers crossed. It was only meant to be a 3 hour trip but in India I have come to know that anything is possible.

However, the trip was wonderful. The sun was shining, the roads were good, mostly, and there was no real traffic. The trip cost about £40, which for 140km is not bad, but I realised I was getting so many forms of entertainment included, that £40 seemed a good deal.

For example, I had my own music system free of charge. If it was not the radio playing nostalgic Hindi songs from films then it was the sound of the car braving the bumps in the road or, more likely, it was the sound of the horns talking to each other, as if arguing amongst themselves.

The ride also acted as a free rollercoaster. Cars swerved past each other driving on the wrong side of the road or through crowds that really should not have been driven through. They clomped over bumps at such a speed that I would often leave my seat, hitting my head on the top of the car. Sometimes the ride made me think that I might actually be safer on a rollercoaster than in the taxi.

And to add to all of this I had my free multi-genre movie system. Sometimes I would watch comedies as cows or goats strolled across the road, blocking cars from every direction. At times, I felt as though I was watching a drama when trying to sort a price out with the driver. Thrillers were in no short supply when at daring speeds along narrow roads my driver decided to overtake the long lorry ahead of us, with oncoming tractors and lorries who did not slow down. It was as if the two were playing a game, trying to see how close the cars could get without touching, or crashing. And sometimes I felt as though I was watching a romance as I looked out of the window, falling in love with what was around me.

Taxi rides in India are many things, but they are never uneventful.

March 6, 2017December 1, 2020

Hypnotised in Chitrakoot

In the Rāmāyana, when Rāma arrives in the ‘soul-captivating’ Chitrakoot, he is blown away by its sheer beauty. Sita cannot help but admire the brilliance of the nature around her. It is a place where there are a thousand different types of birds who all sing in harmony with the waterfalls and the wind around them. It reads that the three of them were not at all unhappy at the prospect of being away from the Kingdom, if they could be here. Their agony caused by their exile was overcome by their joy of being in Chitrakoot.

I was looking forward to being blown away by all of this. Realising that at least a few thousand years had passed since the events mentioned in the Rāmāyana, I was prepared to not see too much that was remarkable. Driving into Chitrakoot for the first time, through dusty roads without seeing the animals or the trees that were loved so much by Rāma, Sita and Lakshmana, was slightly disappointing. Comforted, however, by the energy in Rāmghat, which is located on the river Mandakini and is said to have been a place where the three spent time, I spent the evening looking forward to exploring, hoping there was more to be seen.

My first stop was Hanuman Dhara, named after the stream that flows through the cave. I set off in the morning when the sun was shining to see this wonderful sight, but I was greeted by another. Driving up and out of the built up town of Chitrakoot, the term built up being used very loosely, I was exposed to the hills of the Chitrakoot, and the nature that surrounded them. In that moment, I understood what the Rāmayana meant when it talked of the beauty of Chitrakoot.

Chitrakoot (my photos do not do its magic justice)

Living on the Malvern Hills, one would think I would be used to seeing such a sight, but words cannot describe the hills in Chitrakoot. The hills stand strong amongst the gentle landscape, commanding all around them, with such a firm, but such a calm presence that they feel like the guardians of the forest. The sun shines on them from above, illuminating their strength with its light, showing all those around true wonder.

Not really sure I would ever be used to seeing them, but knowing however long I continued to look their brilliance would not fade, I stopped to just appreciate that which stood before me.

Carrying on I reached the foot of the hills housing Hanuman Dhara, and Sita Rasoi, the place where Sita would cook for Rāma and Lakshmana, which was on the top of the hill. Taking my shoes off at the bottom of the hill as is the custom, I began my ascent, barefoot, of the 600 steps to Hanuman Dhara. I reached the small cave after 600 steps and encountered a small shrine dedicated to Hanuman.

Very quickly however, the space filled with others who had also come to see the space. Sitting cross legged on the floor, as if I was back in Hawford, my primary school, in a lesson, we all sat listening to the Sadhus tell the stories of why this space was as special as it was. They explained that it was where Hanuman told Rāma that he had found Sita in Lanka, I will elaborate on this part of the story later. I was again amazed at the life in all those of all ages who flocked to this revered space, keeping the Rāmāyana alive. Leaving the shrine I was greeted by waves of monkeys who always seem to be alive and well in abundance close to shrines for Hanuman. I like to tell myself that it those monkeys that live to guard this space, as they guarded Rama all those years ago.

Ascending further up to the crown of the hill I reached Sita Rasoi, and was able to see all before me. I imagined that the land around me was covered in a wonderful forest as far as could be seen. I imagined hearing only the sound made by birds, the wind and waterfalls. I imagined being with those closest to me. If, in that moment, I experienced anything even slightly close to how Rama felt in those moments in Chitrakoot, then maybe I can start to understand where his happiness came from. Even though Rama had every reason to be angry, to be hurt, to seek revenge, to desire a kingdom, he was content where he was.