Odishaaah!!

Parts 1 to 3

Some random kids are squealing as they run around a tree in these vast gardens. They’re having a ball here in the shade, and so am I, as I sit on the grass under a tree.

In front of me is the awe inspiring Sun Temple, dedicated to Surya, the Sun God, and another of the true wonders of the ancient world.

My view

It’s amazing to finally be here in Odisha state, on the northeast coast of India, south of Kolkata, and south of the top of the Bay of Bengal, where 2 of Asia’s largest rivers, the Brahmaputra and the Ganges, spill into the ocean.

It’s been a bloody mission to get here, but I’m here.

To The City of Joy

I met Polish Michael, pronounced Mee-how, as I boarded the train to Kolkata from Gaya station.

It had taken forever to get to the station by rickshaw from Bodhgaya, because it happened to be peak hour in the city. Peak hour in Gaya comprises of an unbroken relentless noisy honking crush of cars rickshaws motorbikes bicycles and pedestrians, all of whom are trying to get through the same place at the same time, with no real way of prioritising who gets to go first.

It’s all to do with will, and how accommodating (or not) you are.

So it’s just a gridlocked mess. The intersections are unrecognisable, in terms of what you might previously have imagined an intersection to be. Traffic direction or vehicle positioning forms no patterns whatsoever. Everyone’s everywhere.

Hardly anyone’s moving, because they can’t. Wherever you can get through, you go. Sometimes people will get out of their vehicle and move something on the side of the road so they can scrape through. A parked motorbike. Some rubbish.

You cut people off, they cut you off. Pedestrians will give rickshaws an assertive whack! on the metal body of the vehicle if they wanna squeeze past, and everybody has neverending shout matches with each other, telling each other what to do. They’re shouting because it’d otherwise be impossible to be heard above the incessant cacophony of honking and engine noise.

In that gridlock, given that cars are the least common vehicle, everyone’s literally in each other’s faces the whole time.

It’s sheer madness.

My train departure was hours late, as usual. So off I went and grabbed a snack and a chai or two.

Cute lion temple guardians

Writhing humanity at Gaya Station

The train journey was relatively painless. The train was full, my lower berth sleeper was occupied when I boarded, but the teenage girl in there was happy to move, knowing she’d commandeered someone else’s spot.

The funny thing is, I awoke in the middle of the night to discover that 2 other people were sharing my one-person sleeper, a teen boy and a teen girl. I really have no idea how they did it. I just woke up and realised it was impossible to stretch my legs, and realised that two bodies were tucked up on my sleeper where my legs wanted to go.

Both kids were sound asleep of course.

And I didn’t really care.

When I woke again, around sunrise, they’d gone, and my legs were already stretched.

I imagined them carefully scrunching up my legs earlier in the night as I slept, to make room for themselves, and then unscrunching my legs again before they disembarked, so I’d be none the wiser.

Kolkata

What a great city Kolkata is. I mean, it’s an Indian city, so it has its predictable drawbacks - traffic gridlock, air pollution, mess - but it’s not as bad on all of those measures than Delhi is, for example.

But I guess that's not saying much.

Many of the residents of Kolkata are educated and cultured, and the place has a more refined, relaxed vibe. People walk more slowly. There’s lots of art around. There’s arty cafés, and (some) people who have the money to spend in them.

Even Howrah Junction, Kolkata’s main railway station, and one of the biggest railway complexes in the whole country, has been cleaned up and organised. It was a cesspool of poverty and filth the last time I was here.

But, unfortunately, I didn’t have much time to be in the City of Joy. I travelled through here because it's the easiest way to get to my next destination, Puri.

My first task was to find a bus station and buy an overnight ticket for the same evening.

Michael and I spent the whole day and evening together. He’s a Vipassana-head, having completed lots of meditation retreats over the past few years, including one in Bodhgaya just a couple of days ago. We get along well, we both love music, we both meditate (him way more than me), and we’re travelling in the same way - the locals way - eating street food, taking local transport etc.

It was quite a long but leisurely stroll to a spot where I could get a ticket to Puri.

Outside Howrah station

The ubiquitous Kolkata yellow cab

Incredible flower market

Re-Lactation?

Busy streets

Hanuman. The dude.

Colonial disintegration

My bus ticket seller

After the ticket mission was done the next job was for Michael to find a room, so off we went towards Sudder Street, a backpacker semi-hangout.

Eden Gardens Cricket Stadium, one of the most iconic in India. All of the current and past cricket greats of India are right there, sanctified and idolised. And there’s even the token woman. Change comes slowly here, especially in the gender equality department.

Michael eventually found a cheap room. Well, cheap for a city.

I couldn’t believe it. As we strolled past this record shop the old music lover owner was playing a vinyl album by Crosby Stills Nash and Young, Four Way Street. It was a complete blissful balm for us sunstroked and tired travellers.

Saturday evening, and the markets were pumping

Ravindranath Tagore, a famous Bengali poet, writer and social reformer. Liberal Kolkatans are super proud of him.

The first actual Christmas tree I’ve seen in India. Even though it’s not even a tree. Yeah, I know. Christmas is well over.

Michael looking pensively out across the human river. We headed upstream, sticking close to the bank.

Masala dosa dinna. And a kesar lassi, which has almonds and saffron in it, but which I forgot to photograph. Yum.

By the way, I’ve gotta say there’s so many delicious lassi variations in India. Every place has their own take on it, pretty much. Lucky for me.

Puri-fication

I only just made it to my overnight bus. Michael and I got distracted, and then, for the life of me, I couldn’t get a rickshaw or cab. It was peak cabhour, being Saturday night and all, and being very close to New Year’s Eve. Luckily I managed to get a car on Ola, the Indian Uber. Well, Michael did. I got to the bus just in time, boarded, and was asleep before we took off.

When we arrived in Puri I rickshawed it to the beach area, knowing that, back in the day, that was where the hippies used to hang out and jam on the beach, smoke Shiva’s medicine, and stay in cheap little homestays.

Well, those definitely were the days, and are definitely not the days now. Chatting to a few locals here I’ve discovered that the rise of the Indian middle class, with their higher salaries and new-found disposable income, has led to the interminable construction of whole suburbs of new hotels for Indian tourists in Puri. The place is now completely different.

The hippies and backpackers have gone, completely priced out of the market.

And the same movie has been running in many places in India.

Rickying around

Bovine brekky

Yes! It’s New Year’s Eve tonight! But this party wasn’t too interesting - I checked it out later in the night.

Unfortunately, precisely because it’s New Year’s Eve, the place is completely packed, pretty much the busiest it gets here, besides during the Ratha Yatra festival, one of the most auspicious festivals in all of India.

So I couldn’t get a room.

I walked into guest house after guest house, hotel after hotel, and was met with the same sideways shake of the head. No, no room. Pull!

I tried at least 20 places, same response. But somehow I wasn’t too worried, I’ve learnt that things eventually happen in India, even if it takes a while. I finally found somewhere, a guest house where a bunch of guests were just checking out at the very moment I arrived.

And the room price? Rs 2000 per night! They weren’t prepared to bargain, and, in fact, could have asked me for more, as I had few options. That’s about 40 Oz dollars per night btw, nearly 4 times more than I would usually pay for a room in India, and double the most expensive room I’ve had in the country so far this trip.

But hey, who cares. It’s only money. And the room’s big, and quirky, and nice. And it has a bathroom (but not hot water, as usual). And the woman running it is the sweetest and most devoted woman of all time. There’s shrines everywhere in there, and she keeps grabbing my hands and bowing and putting my hands to her forehead, as a sign of respect.

My room

Buddha’s over my bed

The view out my window

Guest house shrines and art works.

These are the three holy deities who live in Jagannath Temple, a hugely auspicious site in India, which is right here in Puri. Lord Jagannath, the Lord of the Universe, is a manifestation of Vishnu, and is the black-skinned guy on the right, his white-skinned brother is Balabhadra, and their yellow coloured sister is Subhadra, she’s in the middle.

You see these images all over the state of Odisha.

Once I was settled it was time to hit the beach, it was so good, as it was the first time I’d actually seen an ocean coastline, from the ground, for six whole months, since way back in central Vietnam.

A whole lifetime away.

A wide sandy and not-so-clean beach. No one ever really comes to India just for the beaches, I gotta say. Not any more.

But it’s still a beach. There were a few swimmers, I had a dip, but wasn’t inclined to hang around, there was no shade, and I was hungry.

And then I headed towards the big attraction in the town, the Jagannath Mandir.

There were so many interesting things to see on the way, as usual.

Hanuman temple

There’s temples everywhere in this town actually

More beautiful kolams

This puppy was about the size of my foot

Finally found her sibs

Public art in the making

Loads of sweets shops, making traditional Odishan sweets, including khajaa.

Eating one feels like eating a sweet corn chip. All the layers break off.

Cute little fam.

You see the randomest stuff around here.

Nevertheless, Puri is one of the holiest places in India.

Well, not Puri itself, but the Jagannath Mandir, the temple dedicated to Lord Jagannath. The temple is one of the sacred Char Dham in India, which are each situated in four distant corners of the country. The four Dham are Badrinath-Kedarnath (north, in the Himalaya), Rameshwaram (south, close to the bottom of Tamil Nadu), Puri (east, here in Odisha state), and Dwarke (west, on the coast of Gujarat).

The thing to do, if you happen to be a Hindu, is to try and visit them all.

So shitloads of pilgrims come here to Puri, every single day, which adds up to millions every year.

But at the time of the Ratha Yatra Festival, those numbers rise exponentially, the place goes nuts, and a million devotees come here, to see the wild procession of the three holy deities, statues of Jagannath, Balabhadra and Subhadra, who are pulled on huge decorative chariots from the Jagannath Mandir, along the wide main avenue of Bada Danda, to Gundicha Mandir, where they reside for a week, and then, after their little holiday, get pulled back home.

What the place looks like during the Yatra

Unfortunately for me, because I’m not a Hindu, I’m not actually allowed inside the Jagannath Temple itself. Bummer. It looks super interesting

And it’s pretty much impossible to see what exactly is going on in there, because it’s walled for a huge distance all around, and it’s a long way inside to where the action is.

My first glimpse of Jagannath Mandir

The huge parade boulevarde of Bada Danda.

I was flabbergasted by the fact that the queue railings to get into the temple grounds went for at least a kilometre, with about 10 queues within each section. It gave me an idea of the huge number of people that need to be accommodated at certain times.

There’s so many beautiful temples on that main drag.

Even a mosque. One part of the Ratha Yatra parade involves the chariots stopping to pay respects at a shrine for a great devotee of Jagannath’s, whose father was actually a Mughal. Nice huh.

Looks a bit overblown to me

As opposed to? I guess there are river beaches (but not around here).

Good luck with that

There were five passengers on this one cycle rickshaw.

My driver got a good deal with skinny me, but he still had to walk me up the hill. I know what that feels like, when you can't pedal your loaded bike up a hill and you have to push.

Jhoti chita is a style of traditional Odisha art, and is painted on walls and floors around the place. It’s particularly popular in rural areas, and is quite beautiful.

I have to admit that I didn’t do much for New Year’s Eve. There was the option of going out onto the streets and getting drunk with young Indian guys, none of whom spoke a word of English, and then dancing around with them to some pretty doof-ish Hindi techno. Or having dinner on the beach and then just roaming the streets, and then listening to the fireworks bombs from my guesthouse rooftop. I went for the latter option.

It was beautiful. Chilled and mellow.

There was what looked like a really boring event in here.

Looking for somewhere to go

It was pretty crazy at midnight. It was like yet another bombing raid, there were huge explosions everywhere.

Indians don’t need much of an excuse to make noise and have a party.

Billboard I saw in Odisha, of all places

Konark

One day I took a local bus to visit this incredible ancient place.

Konark is home to the amazing Sun Temple, a temple built about eight hundred years ago, and dedicated to the sun god, Surya.

I walked to the local bus station to get a bus there.

These posters aren’t advertising sexual services, but medical services, non-surgical - to cure things like sleep disorder, erectile dysfunction, incontinence, female sexual dysfunction, and, wait for it, “short and curved penis.” Just with medicine huh. Good luck with that one guys. I’ll grab some of the snake oil too.

Note the new curved script btw. This is Oriya (or Odia) script, which is Dravidian-based. That’s why it looks similar to Tamil or Malayalam (Keralan) script.

Odisha’s ancient history is Dravidian, as opposed to the Aryan ancient history of much of northern India.

They don’t make ‘em like this anymore

As opposed to Southeast Asia, Indians don’t just ride scooters, or scooties, as they call them here. Loads of people ride good old-fashioned motorbikes, and some are big hefty road bikes.

The main brands are Yamaha, Hero, and, of course, Royal Enfield, which is also the bike of choice for old Western male ex-hippies that you see riding around in some places in the country, smoking local cigarettes and wearing handmade leather boots.

The local bus was packed, as usual. They never leave until they are.

Running the market gauntlet, on the way to the Sun Temple

Shady art

Traditional Odishan craft styles, these bags sporting images of Jagannath

The Three Amigoas, again. They’re everywhere.

Yay! I’m back in coconut country! Back to my staple.

Now that’s an idea. Get hundreds of people to line up in the hot sun for tickets, but with just two working ticket counters, so the queues move super slowly, and everyone fries, inside and outside.

My first view of the temple.

The Sun Temple is probably the most magnificent piece of existing Odishan art in the world. It was built in around 1250, to enshrine an image of Surya, the Sun God.

The whole stone temple was designed in the shape of a huge chariot, drawn by seven spirited horses, on twelve pairs of huge and exquisitely carved wheels.

The size of the whole temple complex, and the intricacies of the stone carvings within it, are a true sight to behold.

Simha-gaja guardians protect the front of the temple

One of the seven horses

Magnificently carved wheels

You can sorta see the chariot shape from this angle

Don’t ask me what this creature is. It looks like a croc with a trunk to me. Maybe it’s an alliphant.

Much more crocettish

The elephants are mean around here

Why let road safety get in the way of decorative worship?

Sad little curry-bits

Moving On

I’ve got a deadline, so I’ve gotta keep moving.

I’ve had a lot of trouble getting train or bus tickets out of Puri, for anywhere further than a couple of hundred kilometres from here.

All of the long distance trains to Chennai, or even halfway to there, are fully booked out, with long waiting lists (in the hundreds). There’s no chance of me getting on one with those stats.

And the trouble is, my destination, Trivandrum in Kerala, is over two thousand clicks away, and I have to be there in a few days.

I just didn’t think to book stuff that far beforehand. I’ve never had to in India before.

So I’m gonna have to bite the bullet I think, and fly.

As much as I really really don’t want to.

Flying seems to be the only way I can get there in time to meet my friends, when they arrive from Oz and Sri Lanka.

I mean, principles are super important, but love always rules❤️

http://buymeacoffee.com/krolesh9