ABSTRACT
The train we had boarded in New Delhi the previous evening, the Ashram Express, arrived at Haridwar station early in the morning. Even though it was barely 6:00 a.m., the platform and station were already abuzz with travelers and pilgrims; some were followed by porters hired on the spot to transport trunks and suitcases from the train to waiting taxis; and others carried only small satchels or blankets; still others had no belongings at all except the lungis (loincloths) wrapped around their waists. Outside the station entrance, the shop-lined street was crowded with taxis, rickshaws, and buses, all jostling for position amidst clouds of bluish-purple exhaust fumes. The sides of the road were full of people, many of whom, like me, had come to Haridwar from somewhere else. My travel companions and I stopped for hot milk and fen (croissants) in a dilapidated booth by the side of the road near the bus stand. The ramshackle building was propped up on one side with a pole. I lit up the single cigarette I had purchased from a passing cigarette and bidi (Indian cigarette) seller for 1.50 rupees (about U.S.3ø) and asked the proprietor how to get to Rishikesh.
