After a long taxi trip from Dharamsala airport with numerous stops -  trying to organize permits – no luck, getting a blood test at Dr Lal path lab (results came later - all good), doing some shopping for staples – honey, jam, muesli (either not available or  poor quality in Bir), having lunch and waiting in yet another ATM queue – successfully – Suzie and I  arrived in Bir after dark. I stayed in a guest house in town for the first night that I had booked in advance from Bodhgaya. It had the most comfortable bed and luxurious bedding – Egyptian cotton sheets, feather doona, lovely pillow -  that I have slept in in India. But next day moved to a small place a bit out of town surrounded by farms. It is an Indian style backpackers – Zostel – I think a fairly new concept in India and this one very new to the area. It’s a little noisy in the evenings, with younger travellers chatting and the odd vehicle coming and going, but both fairly quietly, only until 11ish and also no alcohol is allowed. Oh yes then there’s one of the local crows that pecks with its heavy black beak at its reflection on the window of the adjoining room at first light so loudly that it’s has become my wake up call. I’ve been shooing it away each morning – the first two times it repeatedly returned, now it tries it out only once. Might get it to give up and go somewhere else before I leave.

So apart from these minor disturbances it’s very pleasant. The mornings here are lovely. My room is only one of two on the top floor both opening onto the rooftop, which overlooks farms and up to the mountains and where I have been doing yoga in the early mornings. Then I head down stairs for hot water for a hot lemon and honey, the makings of which I have in my room. Followed by good hot shower and breakfast down in the garden sharing a table sometimes with the owners or a fellow guest – most of these being young professional Indians, with who I’ve had some interesting conversations about their lives and travels.  This morning’s breakfast aloo and pyaaj (potato and onion) parantha with curd.

The second morning after arrival here I walked with Suzie an hour downhill to the next small town  - Chauntra – to the Dzongsar Shedra – a teaching institute for monks. HH the 17^th Karmapa – a very high lama – head of the Kagyu lineage of Tibetan Buddhism was visiting for the morning. Dzongsar Kheyntse Rinpoche, made a mandala offering offered and gifts from the Shedra, then the Karmapa presented awards and gave a talk, in Tibetan, about the connection between his Kagyu lineage and the lineage of DKR. There was to have been a translation but the technology wasn’t cooperative. So we non- Tibetan speakers could sit back and take in the scene and energy of the event and got the translation later. In attendance were about a thousand monks, hundreds of local Tibetan school children, local Tibetan people from the region and a variety of foreigners. It was a very special occasion for all of us to have the opportunity to see and hear from HH, who arrived in a convoy headed by 2 big black Mercedes vehicles and who was accompanied by several serious looking bodyguards- The program lasted a couple of hours  - including morning refreshments of butter tea and sweet rice served to all early in the proceedings. Diane and I then headed back up into Bir to have lunch at a local café then a walk up to Deer Park to again join HH and DKR along with throngs of students and devotees for an afternoon tea of chai and samosas

That was 2 days ago and since then have been settling into a quiet life starting the day slowly, doing a few chores when needed and hanging out in a new café Silver Linings that makes good coffee and tasty simple food, and a very decadent almost solid chocolate mousse! So until I start a retreat at Deer Park on the 28^th I intend to take it easy - a bit of meditation and yoga,  some leisurely walks, simple meals (apart from the odd chocolate mousse) and generally enjoying the beautiful autumn weather and local scenery.  I've visited the local homeopath Spiro - and expat American who also runs an organic farm with his partner Robyn - up the road in Gunehar for a bit of a chat about the last vestiges of the cold - all fine. And plan to drop into the local Tibetan doctor for a bit of treatment. 

Above - Dzongsqr Shedra and Deer Park tea with HH 17th Karmapa and DKR, on the road at the edge of Bir

November 19

Caught the train from Gaya to Delhi on the night of the 15^th. On my last day in Bodhgaya I did an early bank run but no ATM had money  - in between banks I stopped and had a coffee at Barista – an Indian version of something like Gloria Jean’s. Despite my inability to top the cash and my reluctance to part with my precious rupees I went back to my café of choice in Bodhgaya – Tibet Om  - and had breakfast and a nice long chat with Tsering – the lovely Tibetan woman running the place with her son and daughter during the tourist season. We exchanged details of our family life and discussed the possible repercussions of the demonitisation  for Bodhgaya’s busiest time.

A group of 5 of us  -Melitis, Suzie, Diane, Rati and me  - had organized to go together to one of the more upmarket hotels - the Royal Regency – for lunch. Partly as we could pay by cc and also to share a final meal together.  It was a rich, delicious Indian meal in very convivial company and location.

Before heading to the station I spent what was left of the day hanging out with S, M and D and taking some rest.  Then a farewell to Rahul, his mother Kum Kum and family who run the guest house and off by taxi with Suzie to Gaya station.

All was very smooth  – the train was on time – I easily found my compartment which I shared with a holidaying Sri Lankan family – parents and son. They had come from Delhi the night before, spent the day in Bodhgaya and now were catching the train back to Delhi – two twelve hour train trips back to back!  I also discovered they were planning a flying trip to Australia next year – 3 nights each in Sydney and Melbourne.

Suzie and I met up on the platform at New Delhi station – she was in another compartment - and caught a tuk tuk with a Sikh friend of hers – 3 people and all our luggage in one small tuk tuk driving for 30 minutes through the crazy Delhi traffic to our guest house in East of Kailash. The World Buddhist Centre is a little oasis in the midst of this noisy, dusty, crowded city. It was custom built and established about 20 years ago by a Japanese monk and now run by a lovely Tibetan monk from Ladakh and a lovely young Indian man. Suzie and I shared an enormous room with a balcony looking out onto the street and to the queue of people waiting outside the bank next door. It was our mission to also try to get some more cash. We had got to out room late morning and had a flight the next morning so after a shower and lunch we headed out. A little shopping and a search for a working, money filled ATM. After trying 4 ATM’s in different areas with no luck we were feeling a it despondent and stressed. So we decided to make one last ditch effort at Khan Market and fashionable shopping area. By then it was dark and we didn’t hold much hope but amazingly there was a queue outside the bank, and money in the ATM. Pleading age and illness, and being female got us to the front of the queue and our hands on another 2000rps. In relief and celebration we went to the Turtle - a groovy and cc accepting café -  and had fresh juice and snacks. And I bought 2 novels  - The Wasted Vigil by Pakistani author Nadeem Aslam and The Bones of Grace – by Bangladeshi author Tahmina Anam - at the attached bookshop.

We then headed back to our hotel feeling much better for having got some money and a bit of tasty nourishment. Following that up with dinner at the guest house – which was included in the room rate - sitting at a long low table with the other guests, the monk chanting a blessing before we began to eat. 

The next morning bright and early, on hearing the gong sounding in the downstairs meditation hall I got up and joined the monk and one of the other guests, an older Ladahki man visiting Delhi for an exhibition of his painted sculptures, in a meditation session.

 Then breakfast, a taxi ride to the airport and not long after arrived at Dharamsala airport. I was reading my book on the flight and momentarily looking up and out the window caught my first glimpse of the mountains – the sky a little hazy -  but on descending the stairs from the plane finally got to breath some cool fresh air. So wonderful to be up in this part of the world again.

Above - guest lounge, stained glass window, meditation room -  World Buddhist centre

Arrival  - Dharamsala on Spice Jet   

From the airport Suzie and I drove into Dharamsala - to sort out our permits and for me to get a blood test. On the way back to Bir we found another working ATM  and after an hour's wait  -  success. 

I spent the first night at the Dzongsar guest house, sleeping in the most comfortable bed I've ever had in India, but as it didn't take cc or accept a bank transfer I moved to an Indian backpacker place, which does, on the edge of town. I have a lovely sunny room, there is a very nice garden, a rooftop sitting area with views to the mountains and small farms surrounding us. Only down side is that it is a bit noisy at night as resident guests, mostly Indians in their late 20's up from Delhi for the weekend, like to sit up a talk till late - so took a while to get to sleep.  But in the morning doing yoga on the rooftop, having a chat with a young Indian man about yoga and meditation and sitting in the garden in the sun eating breakfast (as well as being able to use my cc here) that bit of night time disturbance seems a small inconvenience (at least at this moment while lounging on my bed writing in the late arvo with the beautiful afternoon light coming through my door). 

November 14

A quieter day today – sort of, and will get to that - as the Sidhhartha festival finished with lunch yesterday.

How can I adequately describe that amazing festival, held under the Bodhi Tree next to the Mahaboddhi temple.

The festival began on the morning of the 11^th. I walked from my guest house with Suzie and Diane to the temple. The previous day we had picked up our festival kits – a cheesecloth shoulder bag containing a program booklet, a book of chants and a festival ID card. The temple, while usually decorated with flower offerings, was this day absolutely adorned with flowers, which were replaced each day with a fresh lot. On the ground by the temple entrance there were patterns made from rose petals, marigolds and various other flowers, all through the grass around the temple were scattered individual marigold flower heads, along the sides of the designated festival area were paths of  rose petals and marigolds, and there were wide bowls of flowers placed in various locations. The shrine at the front of the festival area, located under the Bodhi Tree, contained offerings of water lilies, and this was backed by a large golden Buddha statue in a glass case strewn with a solid mass of flower garlands. The festival goers were seated in five sections. The ground of each section was covered by a heavy light brown cloth covered with cream rag rugs then topped by cushions in a soft beige/brown. Two sections were under the shade of the Bodhi tree; the other 3 sections were shaded by canopies of bamboo and draped white cotton, decorated with gold tassels. A large white cloth-covered platform/stage was set up to the side of the front sections.  These words can’t really give a clear picture of how beautiful it all looked but hopefully will give a bit of an idea.

On the first morning a very lovely and moving ceremony was conducted by traditionally dressed members of the Indian sangha who made certain symbolic offerings to the Buddha.  Each of the three mornings began with a Dharma talk and a meditation session given by one of two monks, other talks on various Buddhist subjects – the history and stories of the Bodhi Tree, the life of the Buddha, the history of Bodhgaya – were given by Indian academics, devotional Buddhist chants were sung in Indian style accompanied by sitar, flute and harmonium. In the early evening there was traditional Indian music and dance, the lighted spire of the temple with the moon rising behind it in the background.

Mid morning and mid afternoon the festival goers were invited to make their way to a grassy area on the top level of the temple complex, where chai and various Indian snacks – either sweet or savoury were offered. Scattered under a large spreading tree were low timber stools topped with woven rope seats. People sat on these or on the grass enjoying the refreshments, listening to talks, discussions and singing.

As the group was quite large, for the night program people were allocated one of the two nights. This was held at another venue a short walk from the temple.

I attended on the first night and walked with friends to the venue. We were welcomed at the gate by volunteers who tied a small bracelet of flowers to our wrists. Inside the grounds a traditional music performance was underway. We made our way into a building where rugs, colourful bolsters and cushions had been set up for people to lounge on while watching Rinpoche’s latest movie ‘Hema Hema’. (although as it got more crowded and not too much lounging could be done). The movie was set in the Bhutanese forests  - and was a strange story of people living in a limbo like place wearing wild looking masks – all very symbolic and quite weird. I was reminded of things I had seen or heard of in remote Aboriginal communities.

After the movie there was a lavish buffet dinner provided with many different curries, some being special local dishes of Bihar. I sat outside in the balmy night with Suzie and Diane to enjoy this meal then moved on to a performance of qawwali, or sufi devotional, music. This was held in the central courtyard of another building within the complex, open to the night sky; this also had been set up with cushions and bolsters. People could also enjoy this concert by looking down from a roof top terrace. So much to try to remember and relate of these past few days.

A couple of other lovely moments occurring on the last morning included a performance by a German opera singer – such an exquisite voice; and a ritual to engage the senses in which all participants were given a small pottery dish containing the following objects - a damp cloth infused with rose water, some sandalwood paste, a small round piece of mirror, a little brass bell and some rose and gold leaf paan  - and were invited to partake of each one in turn.

This was the first time such an event has occurred at the Mahabodhi temple, perhaps even the first time for something quite like this anywhere in the world.

How fortunate I feel to have been there  - despite the dust, dirt, heat, crowds, the money chaos and a heavy cold (and only just recovering from a horrible flu back in Oz).

Yes the money thing has been a bit of a hassle. A few days into my trip – after having withdrawn 30,000 rps mostly in 1000 and 500 notes the Indian government unexpectedly (at least for most people it seems) announced these two denominations were not longer valid currency. As I had not brought any $A, expecting to be easily able to use the many ATM’s or my cc, I was mostly stuck with unusable money - as were many, many other tourists. Locals with bank accounts were in a slightly better position but still not easy for many of them either. It was announced that tourists could change a maximum of 4000rps – once only. And extract from an ATM 2000 rps per day  (approx $40). I managed to get my 4000 rps worth of 500 rp notes changed into 100rp notes a few days ago, which required a photocopy of passport, visa and some special bank form, while being slightly crushed in the bank queue (more like a mob). And today waited 2 hours to get my day’s allocation of 2000rps, again in 100rp notes – spending about 40 minutes in one queue and nearly getting to the front when the machine died. So after standing around waiting for another 15 minutes for someone inside the bank to come and fix the problem Diane and I gave up and headed to couple of other banks finding an ATM at the second one that was working, and had some money in it (which has also been an issue). Another wait in line there and finally my 2000rps in 100rp notes. Having another month in India will be interesting to see if I can get my hands on sufficient cash  - but am trusting it will work out!

I spent most of my time on the first few days in Bodhgaya before the festival at the Monlam, also attending two talks/teachings given by Dzongsar Kheyntse Rinpoche. These talks were held a short distance out of town over the river, on the rooftop of a school looking out over local vegetable plots and farmland. So peaceful in contrast to the crazy chaos of Bodhgaya. To get there I shared a tuk- tuk with 3 other friends. On the first day as no one really knew the way, including the driver who didn’t really speak any English, we ended up quite a way out into the country travelling along small rough dirt roads. We had given ourselves plenty of time to get there so after a bit of asking around we finally found the right place. From the tuk tuk drop off we walked along a short dirt track through a small grove of bamboo to the school building to be met by some of the school children, who showered us with marigold petals as we walked up the steps to the roof. While we waited for Rinpoche to arrive two musicians – a flautist and singer  - played. Then the talk by Rinpoche on a sutra recently translated into English for the first time (of which we were given a copy), some more music and then back home an hour and a half later in the same tuk tuk, the driver having waited for us along with many other vehicles waiting for other attendees. Created a bit of a traffic jam. The next day was a repeat of the same  – although without getting lost!

So now a day of relative rest, and tomorrow night off on the train to Delhi, (one more trip to the ATM – oh well)

Ps - not many photos as there is tight security around the temple so no mobile phones and fee for taking in camera eats up one of my precious 100rp notes! But it's sort of nice to not think about taking photos and just enjoy taking it all in.

November 8, 16

Sitting on the verandah of my guest house in Bodhgaya. Life’s been a bit of a whirlwind since arriving.  Starting to settle in a bit more and get a sense of how to be with things in India. I’ve been spending time in the Mahabodhi temple - sit ting in on the Monalm -  Great Prayer festival, which started several days ago  and will continue until the 10^th. (The main purpose of the Great Prayer Festival is to pray for the long life of all the holy Gurus of all traditions, for the survival and spreading of the Dharma in the minds of all sentient beings, and for world peace. The communal prayers, offered with strong faith and devotion, help to overcome obstacles to peace and generate favorable conditions for everyone to live in harmony). 

I walk around the inner temple area listening to the chanting of the prayers, people watching and enjoying the sights and energy of this very sacred place for Buddhists or find a place to sit out of the sun and take it all in – the imposing spectacular temple, decorative and brightly coloured offerings, squirrels running along stone walls or cavorting high up in the trees, flocks of green parrots and various other birds, gardeners - cutting, raking, sweeping, workers constructing temporary shelters out of long bamboo poles tied together with strips of cloth, dogs – doing a lot of lying around - and lots of pilgrims – monks and nuns from all the various traditions, Indian  family groups, people in large tour groups (the Sri Lankans dressed all in white, jostling to hang Buddhist flags on the walls around the main temple) snaking around the complex in long unruly lines, just lots of people.  Despite the crowds there is a general atmosphere of tolerance and acceptance and as it is quite a spacious place there is not often a crush of people, except perhaps around the inner enclave near the Bodhi Tree when several tour groups arrive at the one time.

On my first morning on entering the temple area I was accosted by an elderly Tibetan monk. He invited me to sit and chat and was full of compliments and flattery – quite a flirt.  Getting up to go I shook his hand and had to physically extricate myself as he held on for a bit too long!  Walking as across to the site of the Monlam I met up with a number of people I know from past trips – a couple of close friends and the familiar faces of those less well known.

On my second morning was the last day of celebrations for the Chhat Festival (an ancient Hindu Vedic festival historically native to eastern Uttar Pradesh, North Bihar of India and Mithila State of Nepal.^[3][4][5][6] The Chhath Puja is dedicated to the Sun and his wife Usha in order to thank them for bestowing the bounties of life on earth and to request the granting of certain wishes. This festival is observed by Nepalese people and Indian people, along with their diaspora.^[7]

The Sun, considered as the god of energy and of the life-force, is worshiped during the Chhath festival to promote well-being, prosperity and progress. In Hinduism, Sun worship is believed to help cure a variety of diseases, including leprosy, and helps ensure the longevity and prosperity of family members, friends, and elders.

The rituals of the festival are rigorous and are observed over a period of four days.^[8] They include holy bathing, fasting and abstaining from drinking water (Barta), standing in water for long periods of time, and offering prashad (prayer offerings) and arghya to the setting and rising sun.)

I walked to the river about 5.30 in the morning through  streets decorated with flashing lights and coloured banners, surrounded by local family groups carrying all manner of offerings to the river. At the river there were crowds of people  - some in the river performing puja, some standing on the banks waiting and watching, vendors selling balloons and toys, loud speakers blaring Bollywood-style music and fireworks exploding in all directions.  I stayed for some time watching out for explosions, taking in the sights and taking some photos On my way back there a large stall had been set up handing out free chai. Lots of local men and boys were enjoying a cup, no women in sight, so I was initially a little hesitant but decided to brave the male throng and got my chai – then stood on a raised platform watching the activities at the river from a distance and the sun rise through a hazy sky

Bodhgaya is a noisy, dusty, crowded, exhilarating, exhausting  - etc - place a busy village with lots of visitors. I can escape to the relative peace of my room, which is in a quiet street (mostly) with views from the verandah across the local houses and guest houses to some open fields and palm trees. Or go to the Happy Café, run by a Canadian woman and her Indian husband, to have a chocolate banana pie and a chai, which I did for dinner last night – they do also have great coffee. Or  go to Hari Oms around the corner from my guest house and have a spinach cheese omelette.

Despite getting to bed about 11.30, I’m awake  - in Bodhgaya-  and it’s 4.30 am (aka 10am Melbourne time) Sunday November 6^th . Is it only a day and a half since I left home (and only four and a half since buying my ticket !) 

The flight on Friday from Melbourne to Bangkok left just slightly later than the 3.30pm scheduled time. Had a window seat - of course over the wing, even though when paying for my ticket I’d reserved one further back to avoid that noisy position. But it turned out well as there was an empty seat next to me, which I shared with a lovely woman who had the aisle seat.  It’s strange and interesting how physically close one can get with a complete stranger in a short time when sharing an empty middle seat on a plane, that the normal conventions of personal space and certain social graces can be put aside when hurtling through the sky. We contorted in close contact into numerous positions of variable comfort around each to make the most of our extra space.

(Just in this moment as I’m typing I hear the world outside my room beginning to wake with the chanting of monks – perhaps from the Mahabodhi temple, which is only a short distance from my guest house and the place where the Buddha attained enlightenment, or maybe it’s coming from one of the many monasteries dotted around town.)

Anyway, back to the journey, and onto Bangkok – the flight passing with the usual distractions of meals, movies, airline magazines, newspapers, chats with my seat mate and some broken sleep. Then three hours wait between flights and off to Kolkata at around 11.45pm Thai time with a whole new bunch of people.

Landed in Kolkata 2 ½ hours later, and further east, at 12.45am. to a sign with my and my  hotel’s name,  a car and driver waiting for me – a small luxury, and in my mind an absolute necessity when arriving after midnight at Kolkata airport.

My home in Kolkata  was the Lalit Great Eastern Hotel in Dalhousie Square. By the time I got to bed it was around 2.30am. showered and crashed. I shouldn’t have bothered about the 9am wake up call to make it on time for breakfast. I woke at 6.30 (Melbourne time midday), feeling slightly  . . . strange.  I guess jetlag encompasses the mixture of feelings comprising tiredness, disorientation and various small anxieties about what needs to be done to get settled in a new place. For me one of the most pressing was to find and get some cash at a fully operational ATM. The ATM at Kolkata airport had finally decided it couldn’t produce the goods despite my many patient attempts to overcome it’s particular peculiarities.

I encouraged myself to relax with some confident self-talk about Kolkata being a major city, plenty of big banks etc etc and did some yoga then headed down to the pool. It was rainy and not such a warm morning so I had it to myself.  it was so rejuvenating to swim a few laps,  then stretch out in the steam room, have a shower followed by a leisurely breakfast  - a lavish buffet and two good coffees – looking out to  courtyard with pond and flowering water lilies. Next -  out into the rainy, crowded, noisy streets of central Kolkatta protected only by a hotel umbrella that kept closing in on itself – to find a well behaved ATM, a Vodaphone office, where I went through a laborious process to get an Indian sim, and just to have a bit  of walk around the city streets negotiating the obstacle course of stalls that crowded the streets with all manner of goods and their dripping tarps only half –sheltering them, pools of water, slippery and uneven footpaths, tooting vehicles and people with umbrellas seemingly oblivious to others  - getting my Indian ‘travel legs’, connecting with the reality of being in India. 

Next came a short crazy taxi trip from the hotel across the Hoogly River (?) over the impressive Howrah Bridge to Howrah Station.  As soon as I was out of the cab, a porter was there. My bag on his head he led me to an enquiry desk crowded with men jostling for attention. I got into Indian mode and held my own, got my carriage and berth number and followed the porter Mohan to the platform. The train was on time, Mohan carried my bag into the carriage and I settled in for the 5 ½ hour journey. It was very enjoyable. There was snacks soon after departure and dinner at 8, both served on a folding table set up in the compartment. In between meals  the bed was made up with crisp white sheets. and I was able to get a bit of sleep. My cabin mate Pradeep, was an engineer heading back home to Gaya, which was also my destination. We chatted about various things – religion, family, life, the recent Diwali festival- he lent me his phone to ring my guest house, he spoke to the phone company when I was having a bit of a language problem and got my new phone going and when we reached Gaya he checked I was safely in my taxi, which brought me to my home in Bodhgaya, Rahul Guest House  - and here I am.