Why Anjuna is NOT for You

Lately, I've been getting a lot of e-mails from people who want travel advice. Now I'm no tour operator and I'd rather lie to save a good place from getting ruined, but this time, you can trust me—Anjuna is not for you. Don't get me wrong. Of course, this verdant beach in North Goa has everything that you probably came for— cheap booze, cheap hotels, virgin beaches and allegedly good-looking foreigners. But Anjuna isn't a typical beach and if you are one of these typical tourists listed below, try Baga instead.


Blood red skies

#1: You think flower power has to do with the Spice Girls

Anjuna is struck in a time warp. Which means that you are likely to see ageing hippies from the '60s and the '70s—the ones who made it to 2009. So if you see grandma smoking a spliff and talking of the good ol' times, don't ask her if she has sore eyes!

There's also an active rave scene for those interested in a vibrant subculture of underground music and all the possible excesses that you can't expect. And I don't mean the parties at Mambo's or Tito's! These unadvertised "secret" parties are held between November and February, which is the best time to visit Anjuna and other parts of Goa.

We are not crazy

My tryst with a rave happened when my friends and I were nursing our hangover at Infantaria over Kings Beer and food. Suddenly, an Israeli slapped a piece of paper—a hastily written invitation—on our table and left. Intrigued, we left on our Honda Activas in the night. After a lot of time of searching in the dark, we reached this beautiful beach resort surrounded by an angry sea mercilessly beating the rocks to the tune of Infected Mushrooms.
   Ouch!

#2: You think trance is crap

One man's Beyonce is another man's noise. And trance music is often seen as repetitive mindless pseudo-psychedelic trash (which is often the case). But if you have a dark taste in music, Anjuna is probably just what the DJ ordered. Anything that you hear while you're curled up in Curlies shack is probably in its own genre or has yet to find one.

Yet I'm amazed at the number of people who discover Hotel California and Summer of '69 in their late thirties and don't realize that other people have heard them gazillion times. These are the guys who mob the DJ to play a song that's completely out of sync with the beat or is already overplayed at every other nightclub and TV channel.

Thankfully, Anjuna is relatively free of the mind-numbing commercialization that has destroyed most good places in India. Which means your request for bad music is likely to be turned down.

My dreams is to fly...

#3: You wear Hawaiian shirts

Anjuna does get the occasional tourist, typically a young alpha male in his 20s who is only interested in the " parties-sharties" and the "chicks-shicks."

If being loud verbally isn't bad enough, some even come in floral pinks and greens with matching beach slippers they picked up on their last onsite in the U.S. Or worse, t-shirts of death metal bands like Slip Knot, which they may not have ever heard. Okay, we get it – you are a software engineer, you like listening to rock, and your Orkut profile probably says "Rajesh in New Jersey" though the last time you were in New Jersey was a year ago.

Figuring Out the Crab mentality
#4: You know what time it is!

Anjuna has a feeling of timelessness about it. Everyone is zoned out including the waiters, customers, beach bums or the women selling cigarettes outside. Nobody bothers you while you sit around for hours watching the setting sun.

Obviously, after ten hours at the shack, you do not remember how much you drank or what you drank. Much to your relief, neither does the shack staff. Items get added and deleted. Orders get interchanged. But when life is just a big party, every moment is on the house.

Party's over

South Goa Beach Diary

You can judge a place by the words they invent. Now Goa has a precise word for chilling out—susegado. What does susegado really mean? Not too sure but it seems to perfectly describe the particular state of relaxation felt lying on a hammock with Goan food, a bottle of King’s beer, and a view of the sea.
 
South Goa


The problem with Goa, however, is that everyone’s in susegado, just when you need them, from the shop owners to the guy who’s fixing your bike’s flat tyre. Yet, this is one place you can’t help going back.

Cavelossim beach


I’m no hippie despite what some believe. But I have made at least 10 trips to Goa (some good, some bad, and at least one that got pretty ugly). After all, there’s always a reason to go. Long weekend, New Year’s, somebody’s Bachelor’s, summer vacation with family, or when there is the Goan Carnival in February. It’s always Goa.

So, this time, having seen most of the North—Arambol, Anjuna, or Calangute, we settled for Cavelossim beach. South Goa is quite the opposite of North Goa thanks to its serene beaches, five-star hotels and premium restaurants, tranquil water, and clean air (no hippies, of course).

At Cavelossim beach


We booked a surprisingly affordable monsoon package at The Leela’s at Cavelossim and discovered later that several other people had the same bright idea. With so many "family type" tourists around, I felt I was at Matheran.


View from the hotel balcony


The Leela’s lobby has gaudy interiors with odd Indian medieval furnishings with not the slightest connection to modern-day Goa. The rooms, however, had a great view (see photos above). The best time spent was at the beach with its soft white sand, probably imported from elsewhere.

The food was perfect but boring, unlike the unpredictable charm of sitting in a beach shack at the mercy of the immigrant cook’s mood swings and the indifferent waiters with psy trance playing in the background.


The Road to Colva Beach



Other than Cavelossim, South Goa has several other decent beaches such as Bernaulim and Kolva. While you’re there, make a trip to Betelbatim, where lies Martin’s Corner known for its allegedly authentic food and the live performance by a band on weekends. And if you think the waiters are rude, blame it on the susegado.


"Dude, where's my car keys!"

Nagarhole National Park

Driving through Nagarhole National Park, I suddenly realized that a visit to a wildlife sanctuary has an element of risk. You never know when the tiger decides to jump on you or the rhino breaks your jeep open. And if you’re also traveling with noisy female company, the risk just doubles.
Now don't call me sexist. It's just that all animals, including tigers, boars, and elephants and of course, me would give anything in the world to spend some time without a woman (mom, sister, or spouse) nagging you.
Probably this is what motivates some male elephants to go in solitude. These pachyderms are also considered the most dangerous animal in the jungle during this phase. I could say the same about many I knew who were deprived of female company for a long time.

Nagarahole National Park Entrance


We were driving through Nagarahole National Park in Karnataka, located between Kodagu (Coorg) and Mysore. The forest in Nagarhole National Park is nothing short of a city of animals. Every two minutes on the road, we saw hordes of deer, sambhar, peacocks, langurs, and other animals. Of course, they come closer to the road to reduce the likelihood of the big cats—leopards and tigers—hunting them down.

Taken in motion - party of chitals grazing near the road

On the way, we saw elephant training camps. A terribly cruel process, catching an elephant and training them is an important part of the jungle economy. These beasts are then used in the timber industry, mostly all female (who said females don’t work).

We don't need no education...


The Jungle Inn, among other resorts, in Nagarhole are popular. Those looking for accommodation at a nearby resort can also consider the Kings Sanctuary Resort.

Coorg in the Rains

Coorg should have been a state, and not a district. Maybe then, there would be no need for Goa. The Coorgis would have abolished all taxes on alcohol and their pork curry would be as famous as sorpotel. But then, thank god for the lack of ‘tourism development’. Coorg is un-spoilt paradise, without the buses filled with noisy tourists.


I wouldn’t blame you if you can’t spot Coorg or Kodagu on the map or in the yellow pages. Most can’t. It’s only when you actually meet good-looking Coorgi girls (or guys) that you bother to ‘google’ this southern Karnataka district. And I don’t mean Nikhil Chinnapa or Ashwini Nachappa.






We started out early morning in a cramped Qualis. Driving on the Mysore bypass road, we passed Nagarhole National Park. The drive through the park was more of a wildlife safari than a regular drive. From Mysore, two hours later, we reached our homestay in Kutta in Coorg district.




As you enter Coorg, the smell changes. I’m just kidding. It doesn’t. Seeing all the coffee plantations, you do wishfully imagine the whiff of a cup of brewed bitter Robusta and Arabica.


The best time to visit Coorg, or Kodagu, is after September when winter sets in. But, plan a visit in the rains. That way you can avoid the hordes of silicon millionaires from Bangalore who swamp all its resorts, homestays and lodges. What’s more, accommodation is cheaper during the monsoon. Even summers are as pleasant as Mumbai is in winter.


The weather is very English. It rains anytime and soaks you well. By the time you grope around for your umbrella, it stops, as good ol’ Murphy would have it.


Wake up and smell the coffee...




Coorg’s cold climate is also perfect for growing coffee and stimulants of other kinds. This I realized after meeting our homestay owner, Bopanna, whom I mistakenly referred to as “Dopeanna” on several occasions.


Bopanna ushered us into two cottages—a bamboo hut and an old Coorgi house facing the coffee plantations and paddy fields. In the room, an old photo frame generally used for Hindu gods had a poster of Bob Marley smoking a bob. The room was an old wooden tiled Coorgi house, unlike the mundane perfection of tour packages.


Psy baba!



It was unusually quiet even for a homestay. Not even a dog’s bark. Which reminds me, most Coorgis keep dogs, almost always a German Shepherd or Rottweiler. There was a stray dog around but the leopard ate it, Bopanna said. There are wild boars too. Try to shoot them only if you are a good shot. Else that might be the last shot with your manhood intact. These aggressive animals are known to run between the legs with their sharp tusks. Of course, you’d be shooting with a double-barrel gun. Every Coorgi has one.


The British conferred martial tribe status on certain ruling communities: Sikhs, Gorkhas, Marathas, Rajputs and Kodavas (Coorgis). The Kodavas got a special right to carry guns without a license anywhere in India just like the Sikhs were allowed to carry swords. In return, the Brits got a home away from home, an excellent place to hunt, and of course, Indian pork curry.


Sight-seeing is not just limited to coffee. From Kutta town, you can drive down to Iruppu for a bath in a waterfall and a good laugh at the jokers wearing sweaters. Not far away is also a place for white-water rafting in grade four rapids. Also, a good place to visit is Dubare for its elephant training camps where you can conclude that education is bad for animals too.

Iruppu falls



Can't bunk this one - Elephant training class at Dubare



In Coorg, one of the places to visit is Bylakuppe near Kushal Nagar, known for its Tibetan settlement and the Golden Temple—the largest Tibetan monastery outside Tibet. Housed are 60-feet statues of the Buddha and Padmasambhava. The eyes of one of the figures stare violently at you, an intense meditative look.



Buddha along with Padmasambhava at Golden Temple in Bylakuppe


The monks who sold their Ferraris



Don’t forget to try the steaming momos in the restaurants outside. And if you survive, spend some time watching your friends shop for Tibetan flags, mugs, jewellery and other useless things.


Being a vegetarian, I surprisingly had a good time at the homestay in Coorg. We felt like guests in somebody’s house, not a guest house. Food included fresh mushroom from the estate, pork and chicken gravy, eggs, bamboo shoots, spicy mango sambhar, rice dumplings, dosas and ghee rice.


I'm the rainbow dude...



Language is diverse in Coorg. You can count at least five different dialects and languages spoken including Coorgi, Kannada, Malayalam, and some tribal dialects. The Coorgis, believed to be descendants of a Central Asian Iranian tribe who came in with Alexander, speak a language that is similar to Malayalam.

Five Mistakes to Avoid in Kerala

How many people suffer injuries every year due to coconuts falling on their heads?

With that deep-rooted statistical question in my head, I looked out of the window of the plane. I had never seen so many coconut trees in my life.

But then, this was Kerala.

I had always wanted to travel to this beautiful southern state that boasts of 100% literacy, where communism and capitalism coexist as harmoniously as coconut trees in the backwaters.

As you step out of Kochi airport, you can be pardoned for thinking that there is a gold rush out here. An endless number of jewellers' hoardings vie for your attention. This appetite for gold is a result of new-found prosperity due to the number of Keralites abroad.

They say that there’s a Keralite everywhere in the world. As a common joke goes, Neil Armstrong landed on the moon only to be greeted by a Malayalee. With this in mind, it was heartening to see that there are Keralites STILL in Kerala!

The Vembanad at sundown

Planning a trip? Here’s what you should know from the mistakes we made or almost made.

Mistake 1: Not knowing Malayalam

Not knowing the local language is a handicap anywhere in India, a country of infinite dialects and accents. This is especially true for Kerala. Every conversation ends up becoming an exercise in dumb charades. The accents in rural areas get so thick that a discussion on “quantum” theory sounds like family planning.

It’s best to travel with someone who knows the language. But then, if you are the adventurous sort, the language barrier can actually keep you and the locals amused. My friends who asked for directions to a bakery were actually taken to a butcher’s shop (bakri = goat) instead.

"SIMBLY" loving it - Kerala Backwaters

Mistake 2: Eating at the Wrong Places

In Kerala, eat what Keralites eat. This means that pasta and parathas are definitely out. If you are vegetarian like me, it can be difficult at times. Kerala, after all, is heaven for meat-eaters. A plate of Malabari parathas and beef korma is actually cheaper than many vegetarian dishes.

Our driver took us to a restaurant that, in his opinion, served authentic food. But the smell of meat and fish curry was nauseating. We went to a vegetarian restaurant on the other side of the road. It was an unassuming, no-nonsense eatery frequented mostly by locals. The food was surprisingly tasty and edible.

Houseboat at Kumarakom



Mistake 3: Going to the Wrong Beach

Our first trip was to Kovalam beach—known for its pure white sand and lack of garbage. This was the beach Indira Gandhi had famously boasted about in a letter to an American teenager.

But not all good things last forever. Kovalam is now like Calangute or Chowpatty—too many people and extremely commercialized. There are few good restaurants on the beach that serve decent continental food and beer with a view of the setting sun.

If you are one of those whose idea of a beach is Gokarna or Anjuna, then Kovalam is not for you. Instead try Varkala, which is near Trivandram.

Mistake 4: Getting a Massage at the Wrong Place

At Kovalam, I went for a massage session at a hotel, which was a big mistake. I was ushered into a dim room with a bed. The masseur, a friendly chap who spoke good Hindi, boasted of his secret ‘special’ oil, which was simply coconut oil mixed with some nice-smelling herbs. The massage was strictly average.

All of a sudden during the session, the masseur left the room. Lying blissfully in a semi-nude state, I opened my eyes to see people passing by with expressions ranging from genuine curiosity to amusement. And the mosquitoes didn’t help either.

If you have the money and time, try a specialized Ayurvedic massage center such as the Kottakkal Ayurvedic Shala instead of hotels.

Jew Town in Kochi

Mistake 5: Not knowing what to do in the backwaters

From Kovalam, we headed towards the backwaters of Kumarakom and Allepey. A day spent on the backwaters is a day well spent. The houseboats are comfortable and modern though a bit expensive.

After some time, the idea of doing nothing can be unnerving for minds addicted to regular doses of reality television. Around evening, the boatmen docked the houseboat near paddy fields. With not much of a view in the night and nothing to do other than squash insects, you wish that you had brought your iPod or DVDs along.

If you are planning a houseboat trip, carry lots of movies, music, booze, and of course, a strong mosquito repellant.

To get back to the original question – how many people die because of falling coconuts? Answer: None, according to my friend who believes that coconut trees are quite benevolent with their human masters and are usually careful where they drop their nuts.

To quote an old Malayalam saying, “The coconut falls on the dog that lies under the coconut tree.”

Hemkund Sahib

Hemkund Sahib, literally the “bowl of ice,” is a gurudwara situated next to a glacial lake. Said to be the place where Guru Gobind Singh, the tenth Guru of Sikhism, meditated, this is one place that has to be seen to be believed. Photos don’t do justice to this place.

Ass you like it!

From Ghangria, the trek to Hemkund Sahib (or Hemkunt Saheb) is a steep, arduous 8-km adventure reserved for hardcore trekkers or devout Sikh pilgrims. We took the easy way out and hired mules. Having trekked from Gobindghat to Ghangria and then from Ghangria to the Valley of Flowers the previous days, we were in no position to walk more than a few kilometers.

Sitting on a mule is not exactly risk-free. There’s always a possibility of these otherwise sure-footed animals losing their grip on the stony and poop-laden paths and tossing you in the surrounding abyss. And not to forget the heavy traffic of mules and people traveling both ways.

Yet, these hardy animals, with the temperament of a horse and the strength of a donkey, are the safest bet for people, like yours truly, whose idea of trekking is limited to walking to the coffee machine in office.

Wahe guru! Gurudwara reflected in a lake

On the way, you meet Sikh pilgrims of all ages, chanting the holy name and helping fellow trekkers with generous helpings of glucose powder and biscuits. Those going on foot generally start around 5:30 in the morning and reach the top in the afternoon.

Glacial lake 10,000 feet above


Situated at a height of 10,000 feet, the lake is pure glacial water that’s almost frozen. Try as you may, you cannot spend more than 20 seconds in the water. Yummy kheer makes up for a vain attempt later.

Outside the gurudwara

Best time to go to Hemkund Sahib is between May to September when it’s reasonably warm. Carry a lot of warm clothing and essential stuff like medicines. And of course, a good camera.

Inside the gurdwara

Valley of Flowers National Park

"I will lift mine eyes unto the hills

from whence cometh my help."

And so goes an inscription (quoted from the Bible) on the grave of Mary Legge, an English botanist Legge who died here in the Valley of Flowers.


Ever seen a place so haunting that you wished you could spend your last days there?


This is probably it.



Paradise outsourced to Earth



One could die in the Valley of Flowers and yet spurn the promise of an eternal reward with no regrets.


But enough talk of death. Here’s how you can get there. I mean the Valley of Flowers.


How to get there
From Joshimath, we drove down to Gobindghat, a settlement for Sikh pilgrims, in thirty minutes.


Then, we trekked a 13-km uphill route separating Gobindghat and Ghangria, the town closest to the Valley of Flowers.


The route is quite scenic, reminding me of those lovely postcards or photos of places that exist only in fantasies.




The grass is always greener here

All you see in Ghangria are hotels for wayfarers to the Valley or Hemkund Sahib, a Sikh gurudwara.

Ghangria has its own pollution problems thanks to copious solid ‘emissions’ from mules, the only means of transport available here.

Be ready to get ripped off. Ghangria has no proper means of transportation other than the mules. You end up feeling like an ass for not buying enough cigarettes at Joshimath and paying double the rate.

"Ouch, I sat on some thorns"

After a hearty breakfast, we headed out to the Valley of Flowers, which is a 3-km trek away.

This national park, listed as a UNESCO World Heritage site, is a large valley formed by the Zanskar and the Great Himalayas ranges.

It was 'discovered' by Frank Smythe in the early part of the last century. But locals say that the Valley was known to spiritual men for centuries.

It’s uncanny how some flowers, such as the rare Edelweiss (Leontopodium alpinum) found only at inaccessible parts of the Alps, grow in abundance here.

Sujay on the rocks - Glacier in the Valley

Flower Power

A tourist visiting the Valley of Flowers from Delhi paid for a guided tour and came out cursing. He felt cheated because there were “not enough flowers.”

Groan.

If you’re expecting tulips or roses in manicured, well-fertilized lawns, stay at home. Instead, look forward to the splendor of a trek in a Himalayan setting of wild flowers and glaciers.

No magic mushrooms these!

Don’t like flowers?

Take my word for it—there’s more to the Valley than just flowers. Rare birds and animals such as the Himalayan tahr, musk deer, blue sheep, and if these are not exciting enough, the elusive snow leopard.

We met Mohit Chauhan, a mountaineer and Valley of Flowers guide who claimed to have seen one. However, tales here are often as tall as the mountains that surround them.

Do visit his shop at Ghangria though you may wonder what exactly he’s trying to sell.

Flower power--Aster albescens in full bloom

When

For people looking to trek in the Valley of Flowers and see the flowers in full bloom, August and September are the best months. The park is closed in winter.

Sujay at the Valley

Next: Hemkund Sahib

Badrinath

"There are several sacred shrines in heaven, on earth, and in hell; but there is no shrine like Badrinath." – Skanda Purana

On the way to Badrinath, it was cold and lovely. Brooks gurgling around. The winter had just started.

Well said!

The jeep stopped right at Badrinath. And there I saw a glimpse of the blue snow-covered mountain called Neelkanth Mahadev (The Bluethroated Lord). 

Maybe you could say time had stopped or I had too much weed. Only Kedarnath can compare to this place.

A lot of time to stand and stare

There’s something about a mountain that tends to entice you. Especially when you are talking of the Himalayas. A world away from the regular world. Prophets, saints, and gurus have had their spiritual epiphanies in this silence. Blame it on too oxygen deprivation or genuine meditation. 

Daytripper at Badrinath

Remember looking at photos from old LIC calendars or maybe National Geographics. Badrinath is one of those places. A temple dedicated to Vishnu, the Divine aspect of preservation, in a rare meditative pose. And the Himalayas as a backdrop.

Badrinath temple

Badrinath is full of sadhus who beg around. Sometimes I wonder if it’s poverty or genuine renunciation of the world. Most are happy if you give them a cup of tea and cigarette.

But there are genuine ones, like the ones who met us. Or so we like to think. 

The Great Indian Joint Family!

He was smoking ganja. Behind was an advertisement of Maggi 2-minute-noodles. For everything he had one answer, “Narayana.”

What you starin’ at?

He even believed that we could be the Lord in disguise, trying to test him. This way, he saw the Lord in everyone. And that’s why he was extremely cordial with us, without asking for money. 

Nirvana in two minutes


On the way to Mana village

Further away from Badrinath is Mana Gaon—supposedly the last village of Indian territory and not far from China.  It’s a quaint village with mountains behind in a Lord-of-the-rings sort of backdrop.

Miss Badrinath 1965!

You almost expect Frodo Baggins or some short Hobbit to pop out! Instead, you have to contend with Bhotias, a Tibetan-Burman tribe with Mongoloid features.

 Also last village of Indian territory to suffer from recession

One such incredibly stunning member came carrying firewood…umm… or whatever, as we were busy looking at her face. My bumbling friend, Sujay, started the paparazzi act with his camera.

Had he clicked, he would have found a huge stick land on his head. A jealous and incensed Bhotia man, presumably her husband, came running at us. We apologized and walked off. Close shave…

Children of paradise

Next: Valley of Flowers

Haridwar to Joshimath

4:00 am. The bus starts from Haridwar on its way to the hills. We stop over for breakfast at a rundown shack. 

The bus seems to go on and on.

As a person who has always lived on the west coast of India, I couldn’t help feeling a bit disconcerted after watching an endless array of mountains and rivers.

What looks good on a postcard can be a bit unnerving to watch from the window of a smelly bus that’s whooshing on a narrow road carved out of a mountain. The drivers seem to be working on strict deadlines or were overdosing on amphetamines.

  

The sight of landslides on the way doesn’t help much.

Nor does the constant sound of your fellow traveler constantly throwing up his breakfast.

What’s striking about Uttarakhand is the absence of plain land. Small stretches of flat land masquerade as towns. Some are renowned places of pilgrimages--the five holy prayags or confluences surrounded by massive mountains that defy scale.

Temple at Karnaprayag

Finally, when the travel seemed like too much, we stopped at Joshimath. Joshimath is a quaint little town that has nothing much going for it other than the fact that it is the winter residence for the Badrinath temple idol. 

Most people staying at Joshimath are wayfarers on their way to either the Badrinath temple or the Valley of Flowers (though Gobindghat). 

At a local tea stall

Garhwali local at Joshimath

The locals of Joshimath are quite a friendly lot--mostly Garwhalis with Nepalese features and the Bhotias who are closer to Tibetans in appearance. There are also huge numbers of Nepali laborers who do the hardest jobs such as carrying people across mountains. 

Nepalese laborers 

Locals at Joshimath

View from our hotel

Next: Badrinath

Kedarnath Temple

There was a time when the trek to Kedarnath was a long, perilous journey. Only those who had renounced life or had almost reached its end undertook it. A few unfortunate souls perished in the process, dying with a certainty of attaining moksha.

Now, government-sponsored development in the form of rocky paths and orange lamps in the night have reduced the probability of meeting the Lord of Death before reaching the summit. Of course, oxygen deprivation is still a possibility when you are 3584 meters above sea level, or so the shopkeepers in Gaurikund would have us believe.

Kedarnath temple


An almost gothic temple awaits you at the top, surrounded by breathtaking snow-clad peaks. Ancient faces peer from the walls, almost threatening to reveal dark stories from yore.

Face on Kedarnath Temple


One of the smaller temples in Kedarnath


Little is documented about the history of the temple. It is generally believed that the great Advaitin, Shankara himself rebuilt the Kedarnath temple, which is now one of the holiest of Hindu pilgrimage sites ('chardham' or 'four sites,'). However, facts are not important in a tradition that sees history as nothing more than a story that can be told, retold, and interpreted to allow a moral or a spiritual lesson to surface.

Kedarnath Temple at a distance


It is here that we met a few Naga sadhus, belonging to the famed Junagadh akhara. As someone who is deeply interested in Aghoris and Indian philosophy, my first impression of them was not exactly flattering. They asked for money, bragged about their spiritual sadhanas, and smoked charas continuously. But then, like with many things in India, you can never take an Aghori at face value. After a long discussion, one of them gifted me a metallic 'bael’ leaf, which represents the three eyes of Shiva. The two eyes represent duality or the idea that you are separate from the world and the third—the spiritual eye—destroys this duality when opened.

Goofy and I with Naga Sadhus from the Junagadh Math


To a modern mind, it may seem difficult to understand and appreciate the form and meaning of Shiva, who is said to roam around crematoriums, covered with ashes and a tiger skin, and worshipped in a phallic form. To explain it in brief, Shiva represents pure naked awareness while Shakti (the Goddess) represents the I-ness or the feeling of "I". Shiva is also Smarahara, or the destroyer of memory or the past, which is the main source of the false ego.

When both unite, there is none left but That (with a capital T), and the worshipper and the worshipped merge into one.

Don't ever take anything in India at face value.

Next: Badrinath