All Roads Lead to Ganga

'If I am not for myself, who will be for me? And if I am not for others, what am I? And if not now, when?'

The other portions of the god are worshipped as follows: the arms at Tungnath, at a height of 13,000 ft; the face at Rudranath (12,000 ft); the belly at Madmaheshwar, eighteen miles north-east of Guptakashi; and the hair and head at Kalpeshwar, near Joshimath. These five sacred shrines form the Panch Kedars (five Kedars).

Badrinath is one of the four Dhams, or four most holy places in India (the other three are Rameshwaram, Dwarka and Jagannath Puri).

This is an ancient mulberry, known as the Kalpa-Vriksha (Immortal Wishing Tree), beneath which the great Sankaracharya meditated a few centuries ago. It is reputedly over two thousand years old,

I am glad that Sankaracharya meditated beneath it and thus ensured its preservation. Otherwise it might well have gone the way of other great trees and forests that once flourished in this area.

'All men are my friends. I have only to meet them.' In the hills, where life still moves at a leisurely and civilised pace, one is constantly meeting them.

THERE HAS ALWAYS BEEN A MILD SORT OF CONTROVERSY as to whether the true Ganga (in its upper reaches) is the Alaknanda or the Bhagirathi. Of course the two rivers meet at Deoprayag and then both are Ganga. But there are some who assert that geographically the Alaknanda is the true Ganga, while others say that tradition should be the criterion, and traditionally the Bhagirathi is the Ganga.

'He held the river on his head, And kept her wandering, where, Dense as Himalayas' woods were spread, The tangles of his hair.'

Some men leave a trail of legend behind them because they give their spirit to the place where they have lived, and remain forever a part of the rocks and mountain streams.

Yes, the Bhagirathi is a green river. Although deep and swift, it does not lose its serenity. At no place does it look hurried or confused—unlike the turbulent Alaknanda, fretting and frothing as it goes crashing down its boulder-strewn bed. The Alaknanda gives one a feeling of being trapped, because the river itself is trapped. The Bhagirathi is free-flowing, easy. At all times and places it seems to find its true level.

And as for Ganga herself, that deceptively gentle river, I wonder if she will take kindly to our efforts to contain her.

Cicadas, as you probably know, make their music with their legs, which are moved like the bows of violins against their bodies. It's rather like an orchestra tuning up but never quite getting on with the overture or symphony.

Bears have been known to get drunk on the juice of rhododendron flowers, while bumble bees can be out-and-out dipsomaniacs.

Wasn't it Lot's wife who was turned into a pillar of salt when she looked back at the doomed city that had been her home? I have an uneasy feeling that I will be turned into a pillar of cement if I look back, so I plod on along the road to Devsari, a kindly village in the valley. It will be some time before 'developers' and big money boys get here, for no one will go to live where there is no driveway!

In India, Rs 50 was the most you got for a short story or article, but you could live quite comfortably on three or four hundred rupees a month— provided your mode of transport was limited to the bicycle. Only successful businessmen and doctors owned cars.