My last visit to Vrindavan was at least ten years ago. At the time, I had gone with a large number of people from my father’s side of the family. My memories of Vrindavan from that trip: A very narrow and very crowded street (the width cant have been more than 5 feet); a very crowded and very unclean temple (I don’t go to temples for purpose of worship, and in my mind if it is supposed to be a sacred place, then you better pull out all the stops to keep it clean) that I didn't want to be in; and a delicious meal of khasta kachoris, very spicy aloo sabzi, and … sigh!…jalebis for breakfast (Yes. In that part of the world, this is the most popular breakfast).
Work took me to vrindavan again last weekend. I was excited and looking forward to the trip. I knew I wouldn’t go to any of the temples though.
To mark the occasion, the rain gods started to created a big fuss causing a downpour so heavy, it was hard to see 50 mts. in front of you through the grey fuzzy sheet of water. There were heavy winds, clouds of the darkest grey against which white buildings look whiter than ever, and palm trees (which, btw, I did not expect to find in vrindavan) swaying happily in the blessed rain. I was ecstatic. I wanted to get drenched in the rain, but a colleague warned me against it because I wouldn’t be able to change out of the wet clothes for about six hours after that. I pretended to understand, but found an excuse to step out of the dry and boring indoors. I was soaked to the bones in about twenty seconds flat. But this is about vrindavan, not my actions which were guided by an overpowerful Id, that took advantage of an Ego that was fast asleep while it was supposed to be working.
Vrindavan is beautiful.
As soon as you arrive you know who the hero of the place is. All shops, small or big, have to do with him- Kanha mithai, Nand Kishore, Kishan Kanhaiyya etc.
As we drove through the narrow, winding streets I kept trying to take in the sights and sounds (the latter was muffled because window was up to keep rain out). Every second building, without exaggeration, is a temple (obviously dedicated to the charmingly mischievous and cunningly wise Lord Krishna). Most of the doors are brightly coloured, with a very ancient feel to them. And since they were open, I couldn’t help but sneak a peek at the God’s within. Some opened into a large courtyard at the centre of which was a peepal tree providing shade to the entire courtyard. And where there are temples, there are sadhus. There they were, walking barefoot in the wet mud, mixed with dirt and who knows what else- looking content and happy. Some had an umbrella, to protect themselves from the rain, but no shoes.
I lost track of the streets. At one point the man who was functioning as the navigator said, “Idhar mudhna hai” (We have to turn here), I struggled to find the street he was pointing to, and asked with undisguised surprise “Kidhar??" (with extra emphasis). Then when he pointed it out : “Yahan?? ISme?”
There was so much water collected in the streets that it looked like a flood. I actually had to wade through water for about six steps, with my salwar hitched up to my knees, laughing while feeling absolutely disgusted.
But the reality for the people of vrindavan and mathura isn’t funny. The roads were blocked, there were open manholes lurking within the deep water collected in the road. It was really hard to get in or out of the city. Where the houses were really close to the road, water from the street was making its way into their porches. The man who was with us was a local, and said that often, men fall into the manholes and emerge in god knows what place in what city or state. We tried about four different routes and each time, were sent back because of the roads being water logged.
I wondered how hard it could be to build good roads in small cities. It is sad when life comes to a near standstill in one place, because of water logged roads and open drains, and in another, like the VIP areas of New Delhi, the already painted pavement is re painted every two weeks and the intact road divider is broken, just to be re-made in the exact same way.
The man replied, "My watch. I lost it about an hour ago."
"Did it fall somewhere here?"
"No. It fell about 100 mts. from here. But I am looking here because this is where the lamp is"
