After a final breakfast at O Coqueiro, I left Diu on a 10 o'clock bus that crossed the bridge over to the mainland and headed northeast paralleling, but not within sight of, the coast. The first town we passed through, Una, looked dirty and unappealing, quite a change from Diu. The road was fairly bumpy, especially at first, as we passed lots of scrub vegetation and some crops, including cotton. I saw some camel-pulled carts. It was only about 80 miles from Diu to Talaja, where I got off the bus, but we didn't get there until 3. A hill outside town was covered with temples. I waited about an hour and a half there and then caught a bus to the west, inland, to Palitana, arriving after a trip of a little more than an hour through brown hills and green fields. I checked into a not very nice hotel near the bus station and had some difficulty finding a restaurant. Finally, I found one with a Gujarati thali. There was no hot water at the hotel, so I did without a bucket bath. The hotel did have mosquitoes, though, which bothered me until about 1 in the morning, when I finally got the ceiling fan to work.
I got up about 6 the next morning and took an autorickshaw in the dark to the west end of town, where there is a big Jain temple complex, to begin the hike up Shatrunjaya, a hill rising to about 1900 feet (from a base of maybe 300 feet elevation) with Jain temples on the top. There are 3300 stairs to the gate of the compound at the top, with another 300 or so stairs after that. As at Girnar, every hundredth step is numbered. The stairs are wide (maybe 15-20 feet) and low, so it's not a bad hike. Lots of pilgrims were ascending, many (especially men) robed all in white. Quite a few were being carried in dholis, some of the dholis just a square platform to sit on hanging from two poles, while others consisted of plastic beach chairs atop poles and carried by four people. Some women were carried by four women dholiwallas (which is what the people who do the heavy lifting are called).
The steps wound up through scrub, with bird feeders on many of the trees, and so lots of chirping little birds. I started the climb about 7 and saw the just arisen sun about fifteen minutes later. Unlike Girnar, there were no food stalls on the way, although there were a few places where you could get water, but not bottled water. Many people were coming up barefoot. Just before reaching the top, I wandered off the steps into the scrub and ate some cookies and peanuts I had brought with me, with a great view down while I ate. I reached the temples on the top before 9, but rather than go in through the main entrance I went up to a higher entrance for the view. There are something like 800 temples, big and small, on the two ridges on the top and the area between the ridges. I went first to the slightly higher, northern ridge and went to a grave of a Muslim pir (a teacher, I think; anyway, some sort of holy man) who saved the temples from destruction by his fellow Muslims, though they had been destroyed many times by Muslims before then.
I spent more than four hours up there exploring. The temples, the earliest from the 16th century, are in nine walled compounds, looking a little like forts. It 's a very impressive setting and the temples themselves are interesting, as were the many pilgrims. Quite a few wore cloths over their mouths to prevent accidental ingestion of insects. There was lots of cleaning of temples being down. The views of the temples and countryside below were great, but hazy in the distance. I couldn't see the nearby Gulf of Cambay (or Khambhat).
The main temple is at the western end of the south ridge and it was full of people. There were long lines to enter the main hall, with long waits, so I passed that up. I did spend a lot of time in that compound just wandering around and watching all the activity. Lots of plates of red flower petals and lots of little metal cups of sandalwood dust mixed with water were being carried around. This temple is dedicated to Adinath, the first of the twenty-four tirthankars ("ford crossers," who lead you from one world into another) worshiped by Jains. The statues of the tirthannkars are always a little eerie, all in the same pose (sitting cross-legged) and expression and usually of highly polished white marble, but with very black eyes and eyebrows and very red lips. In the temples there are rows and rows of them and every once in a while there will be a black or a brown one.
After spending a lot of time in the main temple, I explored some others and climbed two to the top for some more great views. It was a lot more peaceful once you got away from the main temple, but there were still quite a few people elsewhere. All were very friendly, except maybe some of the dholiwallahs. Big groups of dholiwallahs were lounging, with some sleeping near the main gate, waiting for customers for the trip down.
I started down sometime after 1 o'clock and reached the bottom after about an hour and a half. It was considerably hotter in the afternoon, but there were still lots of people coming up. I again strayed off the steps and sat to eat a lunch of cookies and peanuts. During the last stretch down the steps I walked with a guy, all in white, from Bombay. He said there would be a procession the next day, with a meal beforehand in tents we could see below. He said 30,000 people were expected, and that normally about 5,000 ascended daily. He thought there might be 10,000 to 12,000 today, as people were arriving for the next day's festivities.
At the bottom I watched the activity at the big temple at the start of the steps. There were lots and lots of flowers, and I watched a guy grind sandalwood dust off a piece of sandalwood. The museum containing sculpture from previous sacked temples was closed, so I took an autorickshaw back to my hotel, picked up my backpack, and caught a bus west to Bhavnagar, an hour and a half away. I got there shortly after 5 and checked into a relatively expensive (650 or so rupees) hotel, especially for what you got, but it was much better than the night before. It also had a good restaurant and I had chicken tandoori for dinner, took a hot water bucket bath, and was in bed before 10.
At 9 the next morning I caught a bus south to Alang, a little less than two hours away. Alang is the town where Indian workers dismantle huge, no longer wanted ocean-going vessels. It is on the Gulf of Cambay, which is said to have the world's second highest tides (after the Bay of Fundy, I guess). The ships run up on the shore at high tide, where they aren't bothered by the sea until the next high tide in two weeks, and are dismantled by a work force said to be 20,000 to 30,000 strong. Along the road on the last five miles or so to Alang were scores of yards containing not only maritime equipment (lifeboats, life jackets, pipes, rope and the like), but lots of everyday stuff from the ships, such as bedsteads, chairs, tables, refrigerators, freezers, washers, driers, even plates.
At the check post, I was told to get off the bus and in the little office was told politely and even a little apologetically, but very firmly, that I was not allowed past the check post. A jail sentence of six months was twice mentioned. Tourists used to be able to approach the ships and watch the dismantling, but a few years ago Greenpeace produced a documentary which they had secretly filmed showing the environmental and worker safety hazards of the place, and it's been closed to tourists ever since. From the check post I could see a long line of big ships maybe less than a mile away behind some buildings.
I decided to walk back along the road for a while passing the yards full of items from the ships and that was interesting, though it was starting to warm up at midday. Eventually, I caught an autorickshaw to the main highway and immediately jumped on a bus back to Bhavnagar. I had lunch at the hotel and read the newspaper until about 3 and then took an autorickshaw to a rather poor museum, but with an excellent photo gallery about Gandhi on the second floor. Gandhi went to university for a while in Bhavnagar, before he left for London to study law. There were hundreds of photos, many I'd seen before but many I hadn't. All captions were in Gujarati, as were dates, but I've become accustomed to Gujarati numerals since the platforms at bus stations are marked with them. It turns out that Arabic numerals really came to Europe from India, via Arabia. 2 and 3 are similar, 1 looks like a 9, 5 looks a little like a 4 or a squarish y, 7 like a 6 on its back, 0 is a 0, and so forth.
From the museum I took an autorickshaw to a temple on a small hill where, contrary to what one of my guidebooks said, I could not see the Gulf of Cambay. Another autorickshaw took me to a marble cenotaph of a late 19th century rani (queen) on the town's small lake, the Ganga Jalai Tank. From there I walked into the crowded, narrow lanes of the old city, which was quite interesting in the late afternoon. I found the former palace, very rundown, with an unappealing hotel in part of it. I found several interesting old houses, including a brightly painted Jain one. The nearby shopkeepers told me, if I understood correctly, the Jain family no longer lives there. There were all sorts of brightly painted figures and designs on it. Jains are noted as prosperous businessmen. People were very friendly. Not many tourists make it to Bhavnagar.
As it was getting dark I headed back to the Ganga Julia Tank and noticed a huge cloud of little black birds south of the lake. There must have been thousands of them. The cloud of birds formed and reformed as they wheeled around the southern sky over trees in the distance. Occasionally the cloud would break into two and then reform. It was a fantastic sight, right in the middle of the city, and I stood on the eastern shore of the rectangular tank and watched them until they finally disappeared, perhaps settling into trees for the night.
Right along the tank other birds, mostly black ibises but some white ibises and some other birds, were settling into the trees for the night. Groups of five or so black ibises were flying in from the west and settling noisily into the trees. The tank itself was full of ducks. Lots of people were out but no one seemed to be watching the show but me and one other guy. As it was getting nearer to dark, I noticed the black ibises flying in were being replaced by big fruit bats (flying foxes) flying out, first just a few, then scores of them, then hundreds. They were fascinating to watch as they flew only 20 to 40 feet above me and headed west toward the reddish horizon. Some circled back and then headed west again. The still red western horizon beyond the tank was speckled with bats. Soon few could be seen, but a quarter moon was out, along with Jupiter and Venus. That was a spectacular ending to the day. I have three guidebooks to India with me, Lonely Planet, Rough Guide and Footprint, and none of them mentioned the birds at sunset in Bhavnagar.
I got up about 6 the next morning and took an autorickshaw in the dark to the west end of town, where there is a big Jain temple complex, to begin the hike up Shatrunjaya, a hill rising to about 1900 feet (from a base of maybe 300 feet elevation) with Jain temples on the top. There are 3300 stairs to the gate of the compound at the top, with another 300 or so stairs after that. As at Girnar, every hundredth step is numbered. The stairs are wide (maybe 15-20 feet) and low, so it's not a bad hike. Lots of pilgrims were ascending, many (especially men) robed all in white. Quite a few were being carried in dholis, some of the dholis just a square platform to sit on hanging from two poles, while others consisted of plastic beach chairs atop poles and carried by four people. Some women were carried by four women dholiwallas (which is what the people who do the heavy lifting are called).
The steps wound up through scrub, with bird feeders on many of the trees, and so lots of chirping little birds. I started the climb about 7 and saw the just arisen sun about fifteen minutes later. Unlike Girnar, there were no food stalls on the way, although there were a few places where you could get water, but not bottled water. Many people were coming up barefoot. Just before reaching the top, I wandered off the steps into the scrub and ate some cookies and peanuts I had brought with me, with a great view down while I ate. I reached the temples on the top before 9, but rather than go in through the main entrance I went up to a higher entrance for the view. There are something like 800 temples, big and small, on the two ridges on the top and the area between the ridges. I went first to the slightly higher, northern ridge and went to a grave of a Muslim pir (a teacher, I think; anyway, some sort of holy man) who saved the temples from destruction by his fellow Muslims, though they had been destroyed many times by Muslims before then.
I spent more than four hours up there exploring. The temples, the earliest from the 16th century, are in nine walled compounds, looking a little like forts. It 's a very impressive setting and the temples themselves are interesting, as were the many pilgrims. Quite a few wore cloths over their mouths to prevent accidental ingestion of insects. There was lots of cleaning of temples being down. The views of the temples and countryside below were great, but hazy in the distance. I couldn't see the nearby Gulf of Cambay (or Khambhat).
The main temple is at the western end of the south ridge and it was full of people. There were long lines to enter the main hall, with long waits, so I passed that up. I did spend a lot of time in that compound just wandering around and watching all the activity. Lots of plates of red flower petals and lots of little metal cups of sandalwood dust mixed with water were being carried around. This temple is dedicated to Adinath, the first of the twenty-four tirthankars ("ford crossers," who lead you from one world into another) worshiped by Jains. The statues of the tirthannkars are always a little eerie, all in the same pose (sitting cross-legged) and expression and usually of highly polished white marble, but with very black eyes and eyebrows and very red lips. In the temples there are rows and rows of them and every once in a while there will be a black or a brown one.
After spending a lot of time in the main temple, I explored some others and climbed two to the top for some more great views. It was a lot more peaceful once you got away from the main temple, but there were still quite a few people elsewhere. All were very friendly, except maybe some of the dholiwallahs. Big groups of dholiwallahs were lounging, with some sleeping near the main gate, waiting for customers for the trip down.
I started down sometime after 1 o'clock and reached the bottom after about an hour and a half. It was considerably hotter in the afternoon, but there were still lots of people coming up. I again strayed off the steps and sat to eat a lunch of cookies and peanuts. During the last stretch down the steps I walked with a guy, all in white, from Bombay. He said there would be a procession the next day, with a meal beforehand in tents we could see below. He said 30,000 people were expected, and that normally about 5,000 ascended daily. He thought there might be 10,000 to 12,000 today, as people were arriving for the next day's festivities.
At the bottom I watched the activity at the big temple at the start of the steps. There were lots and lots of flowers, and I watched a guy grind sandalwood dust off a piece of sandalwood. The museum containing sculpture from previous sacked temples was closed, so I took an autorickshaw back to my hotel, picked up my backpack, and caught a bus west to Bhavnagar, an hour and a half away. I got there shortly after 5 and checked into a relatively expensive (650 or so rupees) hotel, especially for what you got, but it was much better than the night before. It also had a good restaurant and I had chicken tandoori for dinner, took a hot water bucket bath, and was in bed before 10.
At 9 the next morning I caught a bus south to Alang, a little less than two hours away. Alang is the town where Indian workers dismantle huge, no longer wanted ocean-going vessels. It is on the Gulf of Cambay, which is said to have the world's second highest tides (after the Bay of Fundy, I guess). The ships run up on the shore at high tide, where they aren't bothered by the sea until the next high tide in two weeks, and are dismantled by a work force said to be 20,000 to 30,000 strong. Along the road on the last five miles or so to Alang were scores of yards containing not only maritime equipment (lifeboats, life jackets, pipes, rope and the like), but lots of everyday stuff from the ships, such as bedsteads, chairs, tables, refrigerators, freezers, washers, driers, even plates.
At the check post, I was told to get off the bus and in the little office was told politely and even a little apologetically, but very firmly, that I was not allowed past the check post. A jail sentence of six months was twice mentioned. Tourists used to be able to approach the ships and watch the dismantling, but a few years ago Greenpeace produced a documentary which they had secretly filmed showing the environmental and worker safety hazards of the place, and it's been closed to tourists ever since. From the check post I could see a long line of big ships maybe less than a mile away behind some buildings.
I decided to walk back along the road for a while passing the yards full of items from the ships and that was interesting, though it was starting to warm up at midday. Eventually, I caught an autorickshaw to the main highway and immediately jumped on a bus back to Bhavnagar. I had lunch at the hotel and read the newspaper until about 3 and then took an autorickshaw to a rather poor museum, but with an excellent photo gallery about Gandhi on the second floor. Gandhi went to university for a while in Bhavnagar, before he left for London to study law. There were hundreds of photos, many I'd seen before but many I hadn't. All captions were in Gujarati, as were dates, but I've become accustomed to Gujarati numerals since the platforms at bus stations are marked with them. It turns out that Arabic numerals really came to Europe from India, via Arabia. 2 and 3 are similar, 1 looks like a 9, 5 looks a little like a 4 or a squarish y, 7 like a 6 on its back, 0 is a 0, and so forth.
From the museum I took an autorickshaw to a temple on a small hill where, contrary to what one of my guidebooks said, I could not see the Gulf of Cambay. Another autorickshaw took me to a marble cenotaph of a late 19th century rani (queen) on the town's small lake, the Ganga Jalai Tank. From there I walked into the crowded, narrow lanes of the old city, which was quite interesting in the late afternoon. I found the former palace, very rundown, with an unappealing hotel in part of it. I found several interesting old houses, including a brightly painted Jain one. The nearby shopkeepers told me, if I understood correctly, the Jain family no longer lives there. There were all sorts of brightly painted figures and designs on it. Jains are noted as prosperous businessmen. People were very friendly. Not many tourists make it to Bhavnagar.
As it was getting dark I headed back to the Ganga Julia Tank and noticed a huge cloud of little black birds south of the lake. There must have been thousands of them. The cloud of birds formed and reformed as they wheeled around the southern sky over trees in the distance. Occasionally the cloud would break into two and then reform. It was a fantastic sight, right in the middle of the city, and I stood on the eastern shore of the rectangular tank and watched them until they finally disappeared, perhaps settling into trees for the night.
Right along the tank other birds, mostly black ibises but some white ibises and some other birds, were settling into the trees for the night. Groups of five or so black ibises were flying in from the west and settling noisily into the trees. The tank itself was full of ducks. Lots of people were out but no one seemed to be watching the show but me and one other guy. As it was getting nearer to dark, I noticed the black ibises flying in were being replaced by big fruit bats (flying foxes) flying out, first just a few, then scores of them, then hundreds. They were fascinating to watch as they flew only 20 to 40 feet above me and headed west toward the reddish horizon. Some circled back and then headed west again. The still red western horizon beyond the tank was speckled with bats. Soon few could be seen, but a quarter moon was out, along with Jupiter and Venus. That was a spectacular ending to the day. I have three guidebooks to India with me, Lonely Planet, Rough Guide and Footprint, and none of them mentioned the birds at sunset in Bhavnagar.
No comments:
Post a Comment