came to visit the capital from other states.
I refused to visit Gandhi's mausoleum and the presidential palace so we made it to Connaught Place around five in the afternoon. Riccardo brought us straight away to the little Hanuman temple, in Baba Karak Singh Road, at almost 300 yards from the main square. He explained to us that this was one of the only five ancient temples that survived - the others were the one of Kali in south Delhi, the one of Yogamaya nearby Kutub Minar, the temple of Bhairava in Purana Qila and the Nili Chatri Mahadev temple in Nigambodh Ghat out of the city's wall. The one in Baba Karak Singh Road survived because during the Muslim domination the believers put the Islamic half-moon on the dome... giving the impression that it was a building used by the Muhammadan fanatics. The picture of baby Hanuman, to whom it's dedicated, is only partially visible from the entrance of the structure and this, I thought, must have been another useful factor.
While Riccardo told us the story of the temple, some old men sat in the principal room kept singing Sri Ram, Jai Ram, Jai Jai Ram. When I turned to watch, one of them smiled at me toothless.
âThe song is going on interrupted from the first august 1964,â Riccardo said. âIt also is on the Guinness World Records' book.â
Nirvanananda went to kneel before the image of the God and promised us that in the car he would give us more clarifications about the character.
The peaceful and devotional atmosphere in the temple lifted my soul and, when we got back in the square half an hour later, I felt better.
Connaught Place was the most famous square of Delhi, full of stores and restaurants. Walking slowly and carefully, on Josèâs arm on the right and supported by Nirva on the left, I was able to visit the whole area. Then we got into a brasserie in a sub-basement shopping center.
It was already 6 pm, several hours from our brunch and I felt definitely hungry. This time I let Riccardo deal with the orders and I did not regret it. The table at which we were sat almost immediately filled up with many plates of various dimensions, containing a variety of delights. With pen and paper in hand he made a list copying from the plasticized menu. Paratha - grilled wraps filled with potatoes, Puri - thin crunchy spheres completely empty, Naan - bread slightly risen filled with fresh cheese, Pakora - fritters of beer-battered vegetables, Tikka - potatoes and peas nuggets, Palak Panir - diced curd in a spinach puree, Samosa - pastry puffs filled with spiced potatoes, Dahi Vada - fried salted bagels with yogurt sauce, Dal Kachori - round puffs filled with a creamed beans, and a series of assorted vegetables with various sauces and spices.
We went back to the hotel tired but satisfied, at about nine pm, ready to go to bed: the day after we had to leave early.
NEPAL
Riccardo explained to us that from Delhi to Kathmandu there were more than one thousand kilometers, of hills and mountains with rock-sliding and dangerous roads. By bus it would have taken forty-eight hours of exhausting travel. Renting a cab it would have taken âonlyâ twelve hours, to which had to be added to the unspecified time of waiting at the border between India and Nepal, because the gates opened only in certain hours. In addition, you had to wait at least two hours to get the visa.
The day before we paid the hotel check and made the photo ID for the visa while we were at Connaught Place, so we just had to get on the 7:30 am plane from the national flights terminal of the Indira Gandhi International Airport. It took less than twenty minutes to get to the airport, because the streets were completely deserted. At ten to seven we were at the check-in and we got on board without any problem. By now I felt like a veteran of flights...
Unfortunately that feeling didn't last long. The craft that should have taken us from Delhi to Kathmandu was much smaller and my claustrophobia returned overbearingly.
The flight lasted less than two hours but was harder to bear than the one from Italy to India. It took all of Josèâs commitment and Nirvanananda's help, who also sat next to me, to distract me and helped me relax. When the plane landed at the Tribhuvan International Airport, at 9:15 am, only five minutes late on the schedule, my companions ran out of all the jokes they could remember. In the moment we got down the stairs of the plane I thanked my lucky stars for my wheelchair because I felt that my legs were very weak.
At the immigration office of the airport we filled the paperwork for the visa, we added the two ID photos we had ready and we paid in dollars as the local legislation required. Everything was smooth as silk and the cops were kind, so little by little I got over my crisis. Friendly chatting with the guards at the airport, Riccardo explained to them that during our trip in Kathmandu we had to meet a famous local Hindu saint, Baba Pasupathinath who, according to our friends who'd visited him recently during their journey, had healing powers. I raised a shy, sad smile and the policemen were moved. They detached one of their agents to escort us to Vaikuntha Ashram and make sure that everything worked properly.
The monks of the ashram were glad to see me again. They remembered me and told me there was room for everyone. But Govindananda had left... for Puri! Yes, they had an ashram there too, not far from the beach, near Konark. No, they didn't know when he would come back.
I consulted my group and we decided to stay the night at the Hyatt Regency Kathmandu. The purpose of my permanence in Nepal faded and even though the monks of the ashram were nice to me, this time I have a specific mission to accomplish.
We visited the temple, socialized with a couple of foreign guests of the ashram, took advantage of the great breakfast that was offered to us and around noon we rented a small rickshaw caravan, headed to the Hyatt Regency Kathmandu, a five star hotel where, like good tourists, we basked in the luxury. Riccardo and Giuliano insisted to pay for our stay in the hotel, claiming that we were in some kind of way working for their cause and in the city there weren't decent hotels: the choice was between luxury and hovels. There was no middle ground. I must say that our protests were really weak and lasted for a really short time... We inquired about the return flights for the next day to Delhi and we all booked, including the doctor and his friend, Indian Airlines 4:15 pm flight with arrival at 5:30 pm. While we paid our tickets with various credit cards, Riccardo winked at me with a smile and I returned it right back. A great stratagem, if someone did a research on our movements.
It was a nice day. The first visit was at the Buddhanath Stupa, a few minutes away from the hotel - the most famous sacred Lamaist place out of actual Tibet. Then we went to visit the temple of Pashupatinath, where unfortunately we weren't allowed to enter, the Sayambhunath Stupa and the house of Devi Kumri, in Durbar Square. A kid that presented himself as âlocal tour guideâ told us to put some rupees in the specific box, so that the living baby goddess would show up at the window of the first door to bless us. After a few minutes in fact the girl appeared: a small sweet and serious face girl surrounded by an elaborate and high red crown and wreath of colored flowers, the eyes enlarged and elongated by a heavy black outline, the lips red and all of the forehead completely covered in red and yellow, with a âthird eyeâ applied in the middle.
Riccardo took us around the market stalls and various alleyways, which looked somehow familiar from my last stay. We visited a series of places that I had never seen before; I wrote the names which I can't connect anymore to the photos we took: Guhesvari, Akasha Bhairava, Hanuman Dhoka, Kashtamandap, Ashoka Vinayak, Jaishi Deval, Balaju Budhanikantha, Changu Narayana, and Shekha Narayana. But I recognized a little temple dedicated to Shiva that I visited the first time and the temple of Durga, I learned it was called Dakshinakali now.
Nirva had got rid of the sad expression he'd had over the disappointment of not finding Govindananda, Max and Josè were super busy taking pictures and commenting amused by every smart and naughty move of the monkeys in every corner. One of them seemed in love with my boyfriend and didn't leave him alone! Clearly
