The deafening roar of the mighty Ganga, nearly three times its normal width, transporting boulders and earth from the majestic Himalayas must be experienced to be believed. Framed at one end by the span of the Ram Jhoola the muddy waters trundled down as black clouds gathered strength in the background. Soon golden spotlights through the dark clouds were obliterated as the River turned into a boiling cauldron.

It is customary for many families to consign the ashes of their near and dear ones to the holy river of Ganga. So when Rammohan’s mom passed away in Hyderabad this July, he and his sister, Shanti decided to make a pilgrimage to Rishikesh before the year is out. Shanti’s daughter Nive who lives with her husband and infant son in London desired to accompany. The month of September suited everyone and we (Vinita, Savita and I) joined the group. Shanti arrived with the urn neatly encased in a cardboard carton. Rammohan had arranged for a 10 seater tempo traveller for the journey. The van picked us up early Saturday morning and suitcases bearing a variety of tags along with carry bags, picnic baskets, water cans, and a laptop got loaded onto the rear luggage deck.

Day break revealed gray overcast skies as we embarked on to the National Highway 24. The van steered its way to the tax barrier at Anand Vihar bus terminus where the driver paid entry tax and we were on our way to Meerut via Ghaziabad and Modinagar. Traffic was not much and we moved quickly past Modipuram, Khatauli and on to the Muzaffarnagar bypass. Then, past a detour along the swollen Ganga Canal we careened into the compound of Cheetal Grand Motel. For years this midway oasis has boasted of good food, an aquarium, a mini-zoo and the all important washrooms. The cloud cover had not lifted and we spotted a few water birds along the canal. A light drizzle ensued and dissuaded us from striking a bargain at the wayside mooda (local rattan made stools and chairs) craft shop. We rode past Roorkee, Swami Ramdev’s Ashram, the Gurukul Kangri University, on the road to Khankhal where an ancient Hindu temple is sited on the bank of the Ganga. Tradition has it that once upon a time the Ganga at this spot was the revered place for last rites as well as for immersing the ashes. The British, when they created the engineering marvel of a set of irrigation canals from the Ganges about a hundred years ago, had to mount a concerted campaign to relocate the religious spot (Har ki Pauri) to the newly constructed clock tower on the canal.

The elevated road bypassing Haridwar town runs between the overflowing Ganga to the right and the rapids in the Ganga Canal to the left. We crossed the canal marvelling the swollen channel at the Har ki Pauri and watching the cable cars transporting devotees to the Mansa Devi temple on the hill top behind. We did not want to stop here for the immersion of the ashes as we were apprehensive of the priests who have by now developed a notoriety in their aggressive stance to maximise their earnings. Moreover it was past lunch time and we were anxious to reach the Ganga Resort in Rishikesh where we were staying. Promising to return to Haridwar for the evening aarti (evening prayers) we sped away past the modern buildings of guest houses on either side of the road, and on to the winding path skirting the forests of the Rajaji National Park. We were diverted to an alternate route after we crossed Raiwalla where the erstwhile IDPL campus is situated. So we passed Doiwalla railway crossing and drove past the THDC Guest Houses to the far end of Rishikesh, before turning into town at the bridge near the Balaji temple. This was necessary because the ABVP had organised rallies and meetings in the centre of town, ahead of the Students Union elections. We quickly moved across to the bank of the Ganga where the Uttarakhand Tourism’s Ganga Resort is beautifully located.

Our room had a large balcony overlooking the Ganga at her ferocious best. The deafening roar of the mighty river (nearly 3 times its normal width) transporting boulders and earth from the majestic Himalayas must be experienced to be believed. The fabulous view of the Parmarth Niketan and Geeta Bhavan at the feet of the green mountains illuminated by the golden rays of sun streaming through the dark clouds across the expanse of water was ethereal, to say the least. Framed at one end by the span of the Ram Jhoola the muddy waters of the river trundled down. We had a quick lunch at the restaurant and carefully picked our way to the river front with the box carrying the urn. The solemn act of consigning the ashes to the holy waters of the Ganga was accomplished by Nive. The family spent few tearful moments remembering the departed soul and retired to the rooms. I hung back to spend a while capturing the eloquence of the turbulent waters flowing under the Ram Jhoola; the Ananda Resort on the hill top behind me; the multi-storeyed Tera Manzil nestled amongst the vast green mountains; and the innumerable multi-coloured butterflies in the flowering bushes and more, in my puny camera. The black clouds over the mountain were all the while gathering strength–before long torrential rains turned the river before me turned into a spattering cauldron with the large rain drops pelting into it!
By four in the evening we set out in the van towards Haridwar. Har ki Pauri was agog with a multitude of pilgrims gathered to witness the aarti which takes place at sunset every day. Little boys were selling plastic sheets at `10 apiece! We spread a couple of them on the water’s edge and sat comfortably waiting for the horizon to darken. As the Mansa Devi temple lit up with golden rays of the setting sun - the aarti in the sanctum sanctorum was heralded by devotees with loud chants. All of us bought tiny leaf boats carrying flowers and an earthenware lamp which we lit and set on the rushing water. The shops on the western bank were selling key chains, photos and statuettes of gods and goddesses, the pure waters of Ganga encased in little brass caskets, rudraksha (energised prayer beads from the tree species E. ganitrus) and glass sculptures.
Back at Rishikesh we located the ISKON Temple in Muni ki Reti which boasts of a decent vegetarian restaurant. The thaali meals are sumptuous and in fact we landed there for lunch next day. It happened to be Ekadashi and we were treated to tasty fare devoid of cereals.

Early Sunday morning after a cup of tea by the Ganga, we set out to stroll along the river up to the Ram Jhoola (suspension foot bridge) which connects the Sivananda Ashram with Swargashram. We came across the marooned shelters and saw scores of pilgrims performing morning ablutions precariously balancing themselves on the sunken steps and we earnestly felt the need for practical ways to deal with human excreta. The storm water channels that crossed our path was spewing the city’s liquid waste into the holy River. Following breakfast we drove up to the Lakshman Jhoola, supposedly the site where Lakshman is said to have crossed the river on a jute bridge. The path from the taxi stand to the Jhoola is a winding downward spiral. On either side were government emporia, among which the Honey Hut deserves special mention for being a shop selling only organic food. We also came across a small shop selling antique watches and mariner’s compasses by the roadside. Vinita picked up a bell bearing Buddhist inscriptions and I bought a pocket compass for `100. At the bridge we were greeted by monkeys, both Rhesus macaque as well as the langur. Midway we could feel the bridge swaying! The swirling, cascading roar of the river below was frightening. Across the bridge we spotted the multi-storeyed Swarg Niwas and the Shri Tryumbakeshwar temple. We passed by shops selling clothes and we picked up a set for Arnav bearing chants of Ram. We got into a jeep for the ride to Geeta Bhavan and Parmarth Niketan. The driver showed us the house where Swami Ramdev spent his early years conducting yoga classes. He also pointed to us the steep path to the Tera Manzil. We got into the Parmarth Niketan before which is the huge statue of Shiva, now submerged in the overflowing river and were told that for it was for this reason that evening aarti had been suspended.

The sky had cleared and the heat of the blazing mid-day sun urged us into the cool confines of the Honey Hut to quench our thirst and relax. The lime and soda as well as the cappuccino were incomparable. We picked up handmade soaps, gift items and varieties of flavoured honey. We went to the ISKON temple for lunch resplendent with koottu ki puris and Japanese millet. Soon we were homeward bound. The weather turned cloudy again and we passed hoards of parked buses, forced into hibernation due to landslides and road breaches in the higher reaches, interrupting the yatra (pilgrimage) traffic to Badrinath, etc. A light drizzle commenced as we wound our way past Haridwar and Roorkee and by night fall and just before a drenching shower we were back home in Delhi.