Finding peace in the paradoxical paradise of Rishikesh

Vastly considered the Yoga Capital of the world, home to Sages clad in orange drags and once a popular destination for the Beatles, is Rishikesh your answer to finding peace in the chaotic din of the waking world?

The city comes to life as a chorus of bells sounds through the empty passageways and a lady with a powerful voice chants through a megaphone, rousing the very spirit of the ancient Ganges that flows idly beneath the imposing Lakshman Jhula bridge. The leaves rustle and a few branches break with a snap as the monkeys convene behind closed doors to discuss their latest strategies to snatch valuable items from unassuming tourists.

All of this happens before the Sun even threatens to breach the horizon, in the wee hours before dawn. Already, serious Yogis are rubbing the gum out of their eyes and heading for the meditation halls or rooftops where they will begin the day with a series of Asanas, or poses, to get the Prana, or Life Force, flowing through their beings.

By mid-morning, the narrow streets are jam packed with an assortment of people from all walks of life. For every commercialised sage dressed down in rags and with meagre frames there’s an over-zealous tourist, wallet brimming with cash ready to splash on “a wise word or two” from those thieving non charlatans that have used Rishikesh’s rich cultural heritage to their advantage and come to terms with modern-day capitalism to amass a small fortune that is then reinvested in psychedelic herbs for further “Enlightenment.”

The temples, too, have opened their doors for business (it will cost you 200 Indian rupees to take a selfie with Lord Hanuman) as have a plethora of stalls that engage tourists and locals alike in services ranging from guided tours up the Himalayan slopes to Ayurvedic medicine (all herbal, nothing processed).

Among the pedestrians are domestic animals; cows and buffaloes leaving behind a pungent trail of faeces after feasting on an ample supply of plastic waste, shepherded along by their own common sense and seemingly tucked away in a different dimension as they not so much as flinch when a motorcycle or auto-rikshaw comes tearing up the road.

Asked about the reason behind poor waste management, the locals assert that in traditional times, people used to toss away apple cores and banana skins, and they’re simply carrying this tradition on in the modern era albeit with waste that is clearly non-biodegradable.

At first, the combined chaos of hooting vehicles and shouting locals, the toxic smell of burning rubber and plastic in mass incinerations all over the city and sneaky monkeys always up for snatching designer sunglasses makes you wonder how on Earth people call this the Yoga capital of the world.

Give it two weeks. Maybe three. And the City will begin to grow on you. You begin to find silence in the din of the day as zipping motorcycles sound like echoes of the monosyllable “Aum” chanted early in the morning. The happy chatter of the locals becomes contagious and even the thieving non charlatans become chummy and drop the act, practically saying “help a brother out, I’ve made a massive effort to pose as a wise sage.”

Take nothing away from the real sages that exist and that defy physics. One such mystic drew gasps from a crowd of onlookers as he floated into a man hole to rescue a cow that had snapped its neck during the fall. Applying just one touch, the cow came to life and the mystic guided her out of the hole and back onto the road to rousing applause before marching straight on towards the mountains, vanishing at a particular spot in the distance.

And then there’s the food. Soft cottage cheese in a creamy spinach gravy with flatbreads roasted in a tandoor. Rice with ghee and cumin seeds and the slight tang of mango lassi to get the tastebuds dancing. An entire meal for the modest cost of two hamburgers at a local English pub.

The key to finding peace there in Rishikesh is acceptance. As one local put it, “This is India, and we will not change. You come to India, you must change.” Perhaps Paul, John, George and Ringo would wholeheartedly agree.