Pious in Vrindavan

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Pious in Vrindavan

 

The beauty of Vrindavan, India is in the scent of temples, friendly people and laid-back lifestyle.

By ASHA LETHA NAMBIAR

 

 

 

Saturday November 10, 2007

 

 

It was a complete wonder how my taxi driver managed to manoeuvre and avoid an accident.

Given the slightest space, a motorcyclist would squeeze past. Schoolchildren appeared from out of nowhere to dash across the road. Occasionally, a herd of cows would want to cross the road.

<table align="right" border="0" cellpadding="7" width="144"> <tbody><tr><td> </td></tr> <tr><td>Uddhava Dasa of the Kund Restoration Group has dedicated his life to rehabilitating the ponds and lakes of Vrindavan.

</td></tr> </tbody></table> It was chaotic, and the endless honking got on my nerves. There were cars, taxis, buses and people crowding everywhere, and this was just half-an-hour out of Indira Gandhi Airport in New Delhi.

Indian motorists are compulsive honkers. Lorries have Awaz Karo or “Please Horn” emblazoned in bright colours on the rear. Gopal, the taxi driver, grinned, showing teeth stained red from chewing betel.

“This is India, Madam,” he said by way of explaining the chaos.

As we approached Vrindavan, out in the country, four hours later, the drive became relatively more peaceful. You could see women carrying pots on their heads and half-naked children darting about.

Vrindavan is a major place of pilgrimage on the banks of the Yamuna River.

Situated 135km from New Delhi and 55km north of Agra, it is famous for temples both ancient and new. The best time to go to Vrindavan, in the north Indian state of Uttar Pradesh, is from October to March when the weather is cool and pleasant.

It was almost six in the evening when I finally reached my dharmashala or guesthouse. The Shukla Guesthouse looks relatively small from the outside. But it has a huge courtyard inside. Above this are bars to keep out the monkeys.

There are rooms facing each other and more rooms upstairs. The rooftops are flat and used for drying clothes or even spices. The Yamuna is within view, and sometimes you can see villagers in a tiny boat crossing over to the other side.

The next day, I was awakened at four in the morning by the loud chanting of mantras. Murli, the guesthouse owner, said it was important to be awake at this early hour as this was when Vrindavan came alive with chants and hymns. It is considered a most auspicious time.

What was even more exciting was the fact that there are almost 5,000 temples in Vrindavan. I went to the Madana Mohan Temple, which is a protected site. The temple was huge. The stairs running up to the temple were made from enormous stone slabs. People come here to worship the deities of Radha Madana Mohan.

Temple architecture in India is broadly divided into northern and southern styles, classified by the shape and form of the prominent roofs (shikara).

The southern Indian ones tend to be made up of distinct horizontal levels that form a rough pyramid. The northern Indian temples resemble an upturned cone that is decorated with miniature conical shikaras.

All of them have a sanctum where the deity is kept.

The beauty of Vrindavan is that the whole place has the scent of temples. Walking the streets, you can smell the aromatic incense and, of course, hear the chants of “Hare Krishna”.

Even the rickshaw wallas chant, “Radhe, Radhe,” urging people to move aside. Incredibly, there is no honking here. The people are gentle and friendly. And the best part of it all, no one seems to be in a hurry, unlike in New Delhi.

By noon, Murli had arranged for a guide for me to check out the local bazaar. Here the vendors would call out to potential customers to come in. And it wasn’t just people milling about; there were cows, monkeys and pigs about. Then there were the auto rickshaws, the fruit walla, the flower walla, and a crush of people all around.

In an exceptionally narrow lane called Loi Bazaar, I saw the post office, banks and bookshops doing brisk business. My guide, Malati, said if you were lucky, you might get the chance to see a camel or an elephant and mahout passing by. I honestly thought she was pulling my leg.

Malati took me to her favourite shop, Dinesh’s Cloth Store. Kishen, the owner, was most accommodating.

“This is your shop, your shop,” he kept saying to us girls.

<table align="left" border="0" cellpadding="7" width="194"> <tbody><tr><td> </td></tr> <tr><td>The Madana Mohan Temple.

</td></tr> </tbody></table> “If it is mine, then I don’t have to pay,” I teased.

He smiled and said, “OK, whatever you like.”

This was the way of the people here. Simple and family-like, and proud to be Vrajavasis, what they call the residents of Vrindavan.

After I purchased some gopi-dresses (a full length skirt, blouse and a long shawl), Kishen insisted we take his cloth-bag.

I was fascinated; here I was thousands of miles away from the trappings of a modern world, and the people had eco-friendly practices.

I also noticed that you could buy disposable plates made from big, dried leaves from any shop in Loi Bazaar for functions like birthdays or weddings.

Later, Malati introduced me to Uddhava Dasa, an American who had come to Vrindavan to stay for good. The man has dedicated his life to cleaning the ponds and lakes that have suffered years of abuse.

People tend to use the ponds to wash their clothes, more so during summer, not realising that the suds will ultimately kill off the water source.

Uddhava started the Kund Restoration Group (www.vrajakunds.com) to educate the locals on this. His awareness drive is basically to help the Vrajavasis improve their lives.

I managed to witness the group’s refurbishment works in Kaliya Ghat. The place holds historical interest besides being a holy place for the Hindus. The huge kadamba tree which, legend has it, Sri Krishna climbed up to jump on the head of the Kaliya serpent that was poisoning the Yamuna, is still standing.

It is said to be 5,000 years old.

After a week of simple living, I left this Land of Temples with a heavy heart. I feel like a part of my soul is there, counting the days when I return.