The following is an extract from the travel book A River of Life: Travels through Modern India.
Tiring of postcards, I browse through my guidebook, then read a few pages of The History of India, full of interesting information if a little dry and unabsorbing. I glean a few titbits from it about places I have been, places I am going, the place where I am now. The origin of the word juggernaut, for instance: from the god Jagannath, Lord of the World. His main temple is in Puri, founded by the Ganga king Chodaganga and originally dedicated to Puroshottama, one of the thousand names of Vishnu, later changed to Jagannath. It is the Jagannath Temple that is the main draw for the pilgrims who came to town. According to the Puranas, sacred texts of the Hindu religion, Krishna had been wandering in a nearby forest when he was mistaken for a deer and killed by a hunter. The body was cremated, the ashes put in a box, which a local king instructed should been made into an image of the god. The artisan Vishakarman agreed to undertake the task, provided he was left undisturbed while he worked; but the king, impatient, troubled him after a mere fifteen days, and the carving was left incomplete. The image in the temple at Puri, representing the deity - not the original carving, although there were those who claim it is - is a crudely carved block of wood, and during the two week festival of Rath Yatra in midsummer, this image of Lord Jagannath is removed from its shrine and loaded onto a vast chariot, which is then hauled along the city's main drag, two miles to Jagannath's Garden House on the edge of town. The chariot is so massive it takes several hundreds of devotees to pull it along - although there are, of course, always many thousands willing to lend a hand. The journey takes several days. It had once been held auspicious to die by hurling oneself beneath the mighty wheels, and deaths during the festival, although no longer commonplace, still occur, the chariot of Lord Jagannath, once in motion, proving an unstoppable force capable of crushing anything that lay in its path: whence the word juggernaut.
Read the next article about Tamil for tourists.
I find some shaded space on a concrete bench outside and peruse the March edition of Hello! Madras, that I had picked up at a news stall in the forecourt of my hotel. There isn't much to it: adverts for hotels, airlines, jewellers and beauty parlours, some titillating horoscope readings (Your social life will be provocative as well as rewarding as you meet new people. Romance will be intimate and fulfilling), as well as train and plane and bus timetables, which might prove useful later on, and three pages devoted to Tamil for Tourists.
Read the previous article about struggles with Inglish.
"General Post Office?" I ask the first rickshaw man, enunciating the words as clearly as I can. The GPO, in the heart of the Hazratganj area, is about the only real landmark in central Lucknow, a tall clumsy building set in large grounds, with a statue of Gandhi outside. My guesthouse is only a stone's throw away. For all my care, however, the rickshaw man doesn't understand me. He gives me a blank stare, a forlorn shake of the head. I try the second one. "General Post Office? On Vidhan Sabha Marg?" The same blank look. He shows me his tumbledown, betel-stained teeth, a hopeless, helpless grimace.
Sheldon's account of his overland travels around India, A River of Life, is available for purchase now. Buy the e-book from Amazon.com or Amazon.co.uk, or the paperback from Amazon.com or Amazon.co.uk (also available in other countries, search Amazon for more information).
The first instalment, A River of Life, Book 1: Travels in the North, is available separately (e-book format only) via Amazon.co.uk or Amazon.com. The second instalment, A River of Life, Book 2: A Tour of the South, is available via Amazon.co.uk or Amazon.com.