'Yup, you've got until supper time. When was the last essay that you wrote?'
'I dunno! Years ago!'
'It'll be good for you.'
We had risen early, despite the beers of the night before. Mark went to find a sleeping bag, whilst I dropped my bike at the travel agents for them to look after and visited the Indian Embassy to see if I could get my re-entry visa sorted. He was more successful than me - the visa section was not open on Sundays.
Indra checked all our gear, declared it satisfactory, and then headed off. Mark decided that as we had most of the day left, we should see some sights, so we hired a cab to take us two of the main tourist attractions, the HIndu and Buddhist temples.
The Hindu temple was built over a river that eventually flows into the Ganges. Built along the ghats, or steps, were funeral biers where cremations took place. One of them was lit.
Smoke drifted up. The scent of it, mostly just burning sandalwood, made me feel slightly nauseous. Or maybe it was the dirty grey sludge of the river underneath, flower garlands and rubbish and other flotsam mixing on the surface.
We were constantly hassled. Guides came up to us and started droning on about something then asking for bakshish. Holy men painted in orange and white charged for photos. Dirty children begged for money. We climbed up further to a quiet area and had a coke.
'Im not sure how I feel about this place', I said. 'I really hate it when people hustle in religious places. Westerners are scared enough of spirit as it is, making them feel ripped off will only put them off more'.
Marked looked at me blankly.
'But on the other hand, this place is really alive. Funerals and cremations are taking place right in front of people, death is part of life here. Its not hidden away. Cathedrals in England back in the old days used to be like this here - people haggling in the cloisters, selling trinkets and souvenirs, gossip and socialising. This place is alive, not like some air-conditioned museum with an audio guide'.
'Whatever!' Mark grinned at me. 'Shall we try the Buddhist temple? The monkey temple?'
It was on the other side of the city, and took awhile in the cab to get there.
'Apparently AJ got lost in the catacombs here, and was rescued by a dwarf Llama!' Mark giggled.
The immediate feeling of the Buddhist monastery was much calmer. It was set on a hill with great views over the city. We were not hassled as much, but on the top there was stall after stall of trinkets and trash.
The monkeys were everywhere. Sometimes grooming each other, sometimes playing, sometimes fighting.
The temple did not seem that different in style to the Hindu temple. May of the carvings seemed to be of deities, and the style was very similar. The building were a slightly different style, there were less bells and more prayer wheels, but incense and flowers were being offered just the same.
I wonder what Mark thought? If he does answer the essay questions, I will post his thoughts too.
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