Orchha adventure. Exploring the town.

Sunset over the royal cenothaps lining the Betwa river. The river flows into Uttar Pradesh state. In total it flows 590 kilometers before meeting the Yamuna river.

The small town of Orchha in Madhya Pradesh state, turned out to be sort of an oasis of adventure. A great palace, living temples. Pilgrims and ceremonies. Street food and surrounding villages. At first glimpse it sort of lived up to what the name means-"hidden", but it didn't take much of a street wandering to find its lively and colourfull side. At festival times at least, it can be described as a mini Varanasi-but less congested, somewhat cleaner-and with a lot less of the Varanasi cheating circus. It is not absent, though.

I came here by tuktuk from the centre of Jhansi. I changed from train. It was a public tuktuk, filled to the breaking point with locals and their stuff. There was no possibility to see anything outside. I had little idea where we were going. But at least we were going with none of those frustrating monkey business stops-so typical for transport in this part of the world.

I got a room overlooking the "bus station"and the great palace. It has a flat roof outside my room, functioning as an observation platform. Here a group of villagers arrive in town. Ready for shopping and a temple visit. Cheerfull and noisy-among other noisy people. India is never silent.

Close to the river there is an area more or less permanently occupied by pilgrims camping in whatever fashion they can afford.

A pilgrims cookingplace. The food preparation is done for now. The ash is still warm and comforting for this dog.

Jahangir Mahal, the huge palace/citadel/garrison dominating town. Orchha was once the capital of a princely state. The town itself was founded in 1501 by Maharajah Rudra Pratap Singh. The palace itself was completed in 1598 and rank among the finest examples of classical Mughal architecture.

One of the courtyards in Jahangir Mahal. It is great exploration here. You climb up and down steps, trough tunnels, archways and galleries. Enter vaulted rooms and get up to the top of the walls, offering great views over the surroundings. The only irritating thing is the usual one-a single tourist pay the same as an Indian busload. I use these places to get myself as much small change as i can-usefull on the streets. I do that by paying with the biggest bills i have. The clerks always complain, and my standard answer is if you wanna have small money, then charge me small money.

The Chaturbhuj temple seen trough an arch in Jahangir Mahal.

The Jahangir Mahal view over town

View over the small templebuildings surrounding Jahangir Mahal.

Some inventive English. Making me to HE-MAN.

One of many wall paintings in Raj Mahal, one of the buildings in the Jahangir Mahal complex.

Delicious sweet, not meant for human but divine tongues. The street leading up to the temple is lined with shops selling offerings of all kinds.

But this is meant for human consumption. Samosa, a widely available type of streetfood sold with various fillings. Meat, chicken. Often vegetables. And various types-and amounts-of spice. Usually you get a spicy dip to go with the samosas. And practically enough-i had a samosa dealer just a few steps from my guesthouse. There were several of them-trying to "be smart"with the price. My dealer was smart enough-having seen the others lost their customer before he even became their customer-to give me a fair price without fuzz. He got rid of MANY samosas over the next few days. They are good for take away.

Charcoal fried peanuts.

Jewellery of all kinds for sale in town. And the women flock around those stalls.

Colourfull and shining. The typical Indian bracelet fashion.

A ceremony in the street.

The ceremonial procession passes right below my room.

A policeman keeps an  eye on things at the main crossroad near the temple. However-he often needs tea.

An elderly woman begging outside the Ram Raja temple. Typically people donate huge money to the temple, very little to their own suffering country folks. I passed her many times, giving her a donation a couple of times each day. Her smile being very genuine and sweet.

Wedding season. One day i saw many brides being led to the temple square. Here is one of them led by her mother/guard.

This bride doesn't look happy at all. An illustration of the back side of arranged marriages.

The couple undergo a ceremony. Relatives are watching from below-sitting under a tarpaulin roof providing much needed shade from the hot sun.

Leading his bride around the temple......

.....they put their handmarks around the perimeter of the temple.

Looking down on the busy square outside the Ram Raja temple. I stand up in the Chaturbhuj temple which is great for sneak peaks.

The square is prime habitat for sadhus and pilgrims.

A holy man doing his morning toilet-painting his face, that is. They willingly pose for camera-for a fee. Fair enough, alms is what keeps them alive.

In a ruin in the outskirt of town-someone has taken it as their home.

Varanasi-life and death. Faith and commerce. Saints and Sinners.

I love Varanasi. I hate Varanasi. I love it because the city's life is colourfull like no other place I've ever visited. There is always something going on. Always something interesting to see. Sometimes it was best done sitting in the streets, or on the ghats (the riverside steps) with a glass of tea. I became a regular with some of the tea sellers in town. And I hate Varanasi because it seems to be the capital of dishonest people. Of cheaters and trick makers. It is dirty, noisy and congested. And hot. And dusty some places. It is also the place where the world itself come together. Closer to 1/5 of the whole human race have a spiritual reason to go there. On top of that you see a constant flow of sightseeing tourists. It is a place where you see people having wandered hundreds of kilometers to get there. And a place where people arrive in huge, air conditioned SUV's. You sometimes come across old or sick people, at the end of their life, with only one purpose: to die in Varanasi. At the ghats you see all kinds of ceremonies and rituals taking place. Blessings. Luck bringing. Thanking the gods for fortune and luck. Or begging them for it. And ablutions. Especially in the morning-people bathe in the river to clean their sins away. Maybe that's why Ganges is so terribly dirty.....The most disgusting thing i saw in town was when people brushed their teeth in it. The river is pure sewage from countless towns upstream. True germ-ville. Using their own toilet to dip the brush-after it has been used-would in fact be a lot less contaminating from a bacteriological point of view!!! It is a place where you see small children being blessed. And a place where you can sit enjoying a fruit shake and-oiii-there a dead corpse is carried to its cremation. Ohhh-there came another one....

A group of pilgrims pack a narrow old town street.

The lone wanderer

Making merit, cooking for the pilgrims.

Street food. Yummy and cheap. It it's a high turnover rate, so it is quite safe.

Vending refreshments-a drink of herbs and lime.

Hmm-what can those twigs be? Toothbrushes, my friend. Toothbrushes. Chew one end into a brush.....then brush.

I love his way of putting it.

Making bedicigarettes.

Bedi cigarettes ready for sale. Even for nonsmokers, buying a few is a good idea in order to have something to share when one meet people.

But it is a cheaters heaven. Never trust a vendor there. You for sure can find very attractive pieces of craft, but you can take it for granted they will say what you want to hear if you ask questions about it-no matter how far from reality it is. When it comes to silk-the whole business idea in Varanasi is to rip you off. nothing less. My advice: buy it elsewhere in India. Or in another country. I actually talked to a vendor about it. His view was as clear as it was provoking. ""You must understand vendors have a predetermined level of profit each day. We do what we have to to reach that goal. And if tourists come here without knowledge, it is their own fault" In other words-if you are not an expert in the field of gems, silk, textile or whatever, in Varanasi it is ok to give you fakes sold as the real deal-to above real deal prices.

Blue Lassi is a Varanasi backpacker institution. Serving delicious lassies all day long. It has a quirky aspect to it-the lane beside is the access route to the main burning hat. Dozens of dead bodies covered up are transported past Blue Lassi every day. When i was sucking on my straw, a stretcher passed beside me-featuring the uncovered face of an old man....

Wandering the streets offering blessings to shops and businesses-for a small fee, of course.

Outside the celebrations. Not counted in. An old woman trying to get some cash in her cup, and food in her belly. One thing that truly provoked me in India, is how the Indians use fortunes on religion, but leave their own poor ones behind. and at the same time pester visitors to donate to the poor, to schools or whatever. Sometimes those pestering are richer than the tourist they are on!

The most basic of shelters.

The old town of Varanasi is a maze of narrow lanes-divided in two by a more modern road. Here you find small markets. Countless souvenir shops. Countless hotels and guesthouses. It is also a place where locals live, cows roam-and deposit their droppings wherever they find it practical. You will see workshops. Children playing. Livestock being brought to the river. And-surprise surprise-you find lots of local shrines where locals do their dealings with the higher world. But the center of gravity are its ghats-the steps leading down to the holy river. It is here it all takes place-the ceremonies. The bathing. The cremations. It is also a social gathering spot. For early risers, it is perfect. The hours just after sunrise are the busiest at the ghats. It is an assault on the senses, even someone who have experienced India with its colours and fascinating culture, it is a spectacle. For a newcomer-i predict sensory overload.

An old town street near the ghats. Many places huge trees stretches over the streets

Tree roots embrace a shrine.

Security.

A political gathering. The speaker sounded like he had seen too many propaganda movies.

A herd of buffalo driven down a street. The number of domestic animals in town, housed in backyards, is actually quite big.

Transporting milk to a factory.

With the Indian way of throwing all sorts of trash everywhere, it is no wonder the drainage needs to be cleared all the time.

Pots at my tea vendor. I stood in Varanasi for almost a week, and had tea there coupla times daily. He, and a nearby streetfood vendor got daily business from me so they treated me well.

In a small temple.

A sadhu with heavily deformed back lies on a street, hoping for alms.

A sadhu-holy man. Most of them will agree on posing-for a fee. They too need an income.

Dashashwahmedh Ghat is the most busy ghat in town, and a prime spot to find sadhus. There are more than 80 ghats in Varanasi, but only a handfull of those are busy. The ghat got its name after Brahma sacrificed ten horses there. It was built by Brahma to welcome Shiva.

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One sadhu which haven't consumed only rice.

Varanasi is known for its role as the hindu capital of faith, but there are a moslem population here as well.

As the sun sets and the darkness arrives, the daily Ganga Aarti, or Agni Pooja-the worship of the fire, starts. It takes place on the Dashashwamedh ghat and draws a large crowd.

Not only a center of faith-or maybe. Cricket must be a second religion for many Indians.

Women wearing their finest saris. Some saris you see around can be worth a 1000 dollars-or more.

A noisy celebration. It started as a procession up in town and ended at the ghats.

During all day, but especially as dark sets in, people launch small cups with flowers and a burning flame in the river. When dark, it is a beautiful sight, seeing all those flames slowly drift down the river.

A photogenic vendor of ritual objects.

A headshaven worshiper.

A snack vendor set up business at the ghat.

The altar of a priest.

Ritual objects awaits customers.

 

A tea vendor walking the ghats. His kettle a genius one-it is attached to a metal tube filled with glowing charcoal.

Laundry at the river. These are professional launderers.

There are also a few people fishing in the ghat area.

Cleaning up the smaller of two cremation sites. The people taking care of the cremation process are dooms-a group of outcasts, and the job is inherited. The dooms are considered unclean by the more fortune members of society.

Mountains on firewood line the burning ghats.

The final stop for a hindu.