Bodhgaya (1 night)

My journey to Kolkata to Howrah train station was exciting. The Kolkata taxi is a yellow Hindustan Ambassador, it has been in production since 1958 with little alteration and is based on the Morris Oxford. The roads of Kolkata are literally teaming with them, about 35,000 in fact, and this gives one an impression of being in a very busy time warp. In order to get to Howrah train station from Kolkata city you have to cross the New Howrah Bridge, which handles about 80,000 cars each day, most of them taxis. The bridge is perhaps 3 lines wide in each direction, but you cant tell for sure because the cars squeeze in so that there seems to be about 6 a breast both East and West. As soon as a gap appeared, my driver would accelerate hard to capture it and then break hard to avoid hitting whatever was in front. Of course, everybody is honking the horn religiously, as if the person in front can do something about the 200 cars blocking his an our path!

Once safely thrown out at the station I managed to find a seat to wait. By the time my train was arriving there were several people asleep by my feet and I had to be careful not to stand on them as I negotiated my way to the platform. It was straightforward enough to find my carriage and bed and I would have been very comfortable in the air-conditioned berth had my tummy not been complaining all the way. I was also lucky enough to be seated near another traveller, Eran from Israel, who was also going to Gaya.

When we arrived early in the morning (around an hour late) we found ourselves an auto-rickshaw and set off on the hour long ride to the Buddhist Mecca of Bodhgaya. The road was good apart from several sections of vicious speed bumps, which, due to a lack of any suspension whatsoever, had to be taken at a snails pace and were still terrible, especially for one in such a fragile condition as me!

Bodhgaya itself was not what I expected. I had it in my head that the little town, home to the Bodhi Tree, under which Buddha achieved his enlightenment, would be....well, clean for a start. But no, This Is India. The roads were lined with rubbish, with cows eating from them, and stagnant pools, with goats drinking from them. I was hassled by hotel touts, rickshaw drivers, beggars old and young, etc etc. I settled into an overpriced hotel room and slept. I woke to meet Eran and to explore the Mahabodhi temple. I was dissapointed even with this, as it seemed to be a jumble of hastily assembled shrines, with rotting and grotty old prayer mats strewn about, and beggars straining to grab at you through the temple fences. Eran explained that as Buddhaism has travelled the world it has mutated into suprisingly varied forms. It was apparent that as pilgrims from every part of the globe had travelled to see the Bodhi tree and the berth point of their faith, they had also left a physical mark of their own particular method of worship upon the site. As a result the place was a jumble of different kinds of approach and made no sense to me at all.

I made the most of the bland and unoffensive foods found in abundance in the tibetan style restaurants nearby, got plenty of much needed sleep, and said goodbye to Eran after breakfast the next day. I then made the return trip to Gaya train station for my 14.55 train. I had timed my rickshaw ride well and arrived around 14.30. Everything was going to plan.......ah, if only it were so easy.....