Rishikesh, yoga capital of the world, is expecting a once every six year influx of people in the next couple of days: the Kumbh Mela. I’m not sure what that’s about: a fair, a gathering of holy people, a festival of yoga, but I think the place will be heaving when I come back down the mountain. Fitting in this penultimate leg before returning to Delhi was always going to be tight, so I’ve postponed the return flight for a couple of days.
Arranging that with Jet Airways was refreshingly easy and in keeping with how I’ve found doing business here to be. Whilst there’s often a moment of confusion as the communication channel is opened and language, accents and intentions negotiated, after that it’s usually a jolly affair. Even haggling is amiable. If the deal isn’t happening, then I get the impression no one should feel disappointed or pressured, instead a fatalistic wobble of the head and a smile acknowledging, ‘perhaps some other time’.
Tomorrow before heading off I’m going to try yoga for only the second time; the first was 30 years ago. I didn’t feel very bendy back then, but I’m looking forward to trying something different. I’ve even bought some baggy trousers just in case it works out, that’s optimism.
If the Enfield, buses, camels, dogs, pedestrians and food don’t get ya, what’s the betting you end in Delhi general with a slipped disc!
Yoga? Jeez. As my Dad often reminds me, there is no fool like an old fool! :o)
😉