Riverine

"Wow!" was all I could say when I saw a little lantern blazing proudly in front of a tent. Some riotous breeze was wildly tapping against its flaps, but the lantern blazed on, protected inside the glass casing of the lantern, oblivious to the tumultous Gangetic breeze. A full moon peeped shyly from behind the clouds, and the white sands caught her coy smile and lit up, somewhat reluctant to wake up to alien footsteps at that late hour.

It was a quarter to midnight when we touched Hrishikesh, and what I experienced was beyond my anticipation. White sands, a full moon, a roaring rapid, gelid breeze and lantern-lit tents... and I felt as though I was on the sets of some Indiana Jones movie! I woke up the following morning to a cup of very Indian, very sweet and muddy tea that smelt of Indian roads and had the exquisite taste of roadside eateries. Every sip of it made me soak in India at its crudest best. The first thing I opened my eyes to was the rapid outside my tent. It is the young Ganges here... wild, nascent and untameable. She flowed on like a wanton child, throwing caution to the winds, heedless of any danger that might lie ahead. She was a shade of pale jade and still smelt of the glacier that gave birth to her. For a while I sat on my bed staring at her with sleep-swollen eyes. Not many things on earth could be as beautiful as she was that morning when I first laid my eyes on her! The next chain of events flowed on as they should have flowed. Breakfast, some more cups of the very Indian, very sweet muddy tea, some... rather lots of cigarettes, few photo sessions which proved the efficacy of Indian toothpastes, and we were ready to go rafting. The sun can be pretty choleric and unforgiving on hills at daytime, unlike the bucolic, amiable mountain sun. Quite beyond my anticipation, it was in a furious blaze when we arrived at the rafting bank of Shivpuri and my delicate consititution fought with my insatiable adventurous spirit and finally gave up. The spirit is everything... I realised this entrenched truth yet again, when I managed not to faint in that terribly hot sun. Donning the rafting gear was quite some ritual. Each of us were given helmets, a life jacket which would not let us drown (even if we tried to) and an oar to row the raft. Click... click... click... more smiles... more toothpaste ads... some frowns and grimaces at the blinding sun.. and the end of yet another photo session, to be preserved as proof to our forthcoming generations that parents are not quintessentially a boring race.. they just get that way with time, cleaning diapers, paying school bills and dealing with child tantrums!

....And finally.. the raft! A long list of Do's and Dont's, many adequate gushes of adrenaline... the hot hilly air reveberating with "Ganga maiyya ki jai!", a high-five of oars and we were on our way.. my first rafting experience ever. What followed for the next three hours is difficult to capture in words. Some feelings are too sublime, too ethereal to be coined into any language comprehensible to man. That was how it was meant to be.. that was why the Almighty gave us a heart and five senses. That is where speech and all that has been invented by man became immaterial! We passed through nine rapids on our way down to Ramjhula, our final rafting destination. They all had curious names and I have tried my best to make a mental note of all of them. 'Return to Sandal' was the first one, supposedly the most benign and it sure was! The second one was 'Cash Flow'.. then came "Rollercoaster', 'Golf Course' and.. the rest I do not remember. As we proceeded further and further, relishing the experience mattered more than memorising the names of the rapids. What difference would it make if you named Golf Course as Horseshoe.. the fun derived would be the same. And yet again.. the famous Shakespearean quote,"What's in a name? Call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet!"! Profound!
The sun continued to be unmerciful as we flowed and rowed down our way. To avoid the blaze, I floated on the bone-cold river for most of the way. Maybe I prefered the freezing bite of the water than the scorching blaze of an unforgiving sun. While the forces of nature were at war, we intoxicated ourselves with a strange concoction of fun, adventure and the heady flavour of trying out things for the first time. We reached Ramjhula at the prime of noon... happy, excited, exhausted, sunburnt, contented, eager, hungry and looking forward to more fun!

Lunchtime was an usual affair of a well laid out platter of an assortment of vegetables and well cooked home food. The custard was unusually pink though... trying to be the 'strawberry' flavour and ended up being quite remote to strawberry! And then... "Oh incorrigible noontime slumber, that steals the desire of all activity from restless, eager young bodies, and subdues them to let out unrefined and gawky snores quite against their desires..." descended upon the gang! The rest is self-explanatory. Evening descended upon us, smoky grey, a bit of orange... and windy. The river got a wee bit wilder and the rafters that passed by, a wee bit more enthusiastic than the daytime rafters. We sat on the bank.. some on the rocks, some on the grass for as long as we could, till it got dark, till the mosquitoes made life miserable, till it was time to search for a newer dimension of fun! A bonfire was lit, a lantern was placed in the centre, food and drinks arranged and nine silhouettes conversed under that moonlit sky... the moon a little less demure that night, smiled more often from behind the clouds! Some say those silhouettes were actual people who sat around laughing with each other and loving each other that night.. some say they were spirits who came down to earth, spirits of friendship, spirits of brotherhood, spirits that made the world a better place!

The following morning dawned a usual one, slightly grey, reluctant, lazy. We had to pack up to leave and all of us tried not to make it evident that from the next day onwards there would be no riverside, no boulders, no shy moon, no wild breeze, no more lanterns or the feel of nomadic life in the tents. Breakfast once again... another series of muddy Indian tea and multitudinous cigarettes and finally... on our way back. Click.. click.. click... beep.. beep.. honk.. screech... moooo... abey **&$%$!#... the first half hour of the journey out of Hrishikesh comprised of the sounds of final photoraphs being clicked, impatient drivers blaring their car horns, cows reluctant to move and drivers swearing at each other. As we descended up the hill from our base camp, the Ganges looked breathtaking from the hilltop. The rafters down below appeared miniscule, yet the river was the same shade of pale jade and a subtle blue. As we moved on, the sun got warmer, the streets crowdier, the car AC stronger. We divulged ourselved in small talk for a while and then withdrew into our silent shells, each having earned something to take back for a lifetime.. the smell of moonkissed white sands, curiously shaped pebbles, the pale jade river, very sweet Indian tea, or... the memory of those silhouettes that descended around the bonfire on that full moon night!