Several people we’d met during our travels had suggested we stop in Nashik on our way to Varanasi.  A welcome break to our 32-hour train journey.  Nashik has a bathing ghat where the Kumbh Mela is held every twelve years and in addition, Buddhist caves dating back from 1^st century BC.

On the river Godavari, Nashik is one of the four locations of the Khumbh Mela – a Hindu gathering of holy men that occurs every three years. (ie.e. every 12 years in Nashik).  It’s attended by literally millions who come to bathe in the holy waters.

For the most part, Nashik is the usual noisy, polluted, concrete Indian city, but Premgit and Sandhya recommended a guest house near to the ghat that was much less hectic. I don’t think we would have found it on our own. The hotel was adequate and the staff couldn’t have been more helpful. In fact, we found everybody helpful from the rickshaw driver to the passerby.

The hotel even produced a map of the city with the major sites listed in English, although the town doesn’t see many Western tourists. We didn’t see a single one during our brief stay; Indian pilgrims aplenty.

The following morning we set off to see the caves in Pandoleni, 18 km out of town. The hotel manager recommended we take the bus which, along with other city buses, stopped at a traffic circle just outside the hotel every 15 minutes. Sounded simple and a lot cheaper than an auto rickshaw. But the bus signs were all in Marathi (the language of Maharashtra). A young man also waiting for a bus offered to help. There were plenty of buses, but almost an hour went by with no bus for Pandoleni. I was doubting the poor man’s ability to read buses even in his own language when finally one drew up. By this time others knew what we wanted and there was an outcry of “Pandoleni!” There was a stampede. We managed to push our way on, and stood for most of the 30-minute journey, squeezed in beside schoolgirls. After asking us all kinds of questions, they let us know where to get off.

It was hot by the time we arrived and our energy was lagging. Looking up the side of a steep hill, we saw the caves. Somehow I’d imagined we’d just get off the bus and walk straight into them. No such luck. Fortified by a cup of chai from a stall at the base, we started off. Thoughts of the Jain temple in Gujarat with its 3,500 steps loomed. On the way, we had our picture taken with the very friendly and enthusiastic people of Nashik, visiting the caves for the day.

We were relieved it didn’t take as long as we’d expected.  There were to 23 caves along a ridge, many with simple interiors for the monks, a stone bench for sleeping, nothing else. 

Other caves had elaborate entrances with intricately carved Buddhas, still in astonishingly good condition considering they were over 2,000 years old. Unlike other monuments, the statues had not been defaced by the Moguls.

These caves weren’t as grand or extensive as the more famous caves of Ellora and Ajunta, but they were well worth the effort. And the lack of tourist commercialism and throng of visitors was refreshing, as was the air. All in all, it was a pleasant trip into the countryside, and we decided to fork out the rupees for a rickshaw for a more convenient ride back into town. Over a thali at a restaurant close to the hotel, Gerard edited his pictures.

Agonda may have changed but there are still interesting people to while away the time with. The elderly Indian couple staying at our guesthouse turned out to be not from Chandigarh but from Srinagar in Kashmir! Gerard chatted with the good-natured man and one morning he invited us to drink Kashmiri tea with him and his wife in the guesthouse loggia. With fond memories of the fragrant drink made with saffron and a special type of tea leaf we first drank in Kashmir, we readily agreed. We’re always happy when the Kashmiri merchants we meet in Goa and other tourist locations, invite us to have tea. But this tea surpassed any we’d drank before. His wife had brought the ingredients with her from Kashmir and brewed the tea in their room.

While we drank, he told us they’d come to Agonda for his health. Recently partially paralyzed by a couple of strokes, his doctor advised him to escape the brutal Kashmir winter. He told us stories of traveling quite extensively in India in his youth: once riding a pushbike from Srinagar to Leh and down to Chandigarh. Another time, he’d driven a car from the southernmost tip of India to Leh, taking three and a half months. His gracious Moslem wife appeared somber until her face broke into a radiant smile as we chatted. She understood more English than she spoke. Unlike her husband this was the first time she’d left Srinagar; she was accompanying him to prepare his doctor-prescribed meals. Every day, the pressure cooker hissed at lunchtime.

We’ve known beautiful Geeta, a shopkeeper, since our first visit to Agonda.  In 2013, we wrote the story of Geeta’s hard life in the blog entry, https://asmallcaseacrossindia.blog/2013/02/02/three-women.  While still young, she’d already had two husbands; the first left her after she gave birth to a girl, the second was murdered. Since then she’s married a boy from Manali in Himachal Pradesh who came to Goa as a waiter. They have a mischievous three-year-old boy, Nitu. Manu is a good father to both Nitu, and Laxmi, Geeta’s daughter. Many years ago, Geeta was befriended by an English woman. A generation older, Christina had brought up three girls alone and empathized with Geeta. Coming every year, she loves to spoil Nitu and Laxmi.

I found them all on the beach on Sunday afternoon, the children body surfing with the boards Christina had bought them. It was the first time I’d ever seen Geeta on the beach.

We first met Michael at our guesthouse two years ago and became friends, enjoying his sense of humor and sharp wit. A writer of poetry, he reads our blog quite critically, offering advice in particular to increase the humor. He returned again this year and for a few days, we overlapped.

We ate our last dinner together watching the sunset over the water, entertained by his own travel stories. As we said goodbye to Agonda and Michael, he said confidently, “You’ll be back…”

The last mention should be given to Janice from Canada who has been a diligent reader of the blog since we met three years in Agonda. After only one meeting, we’ve continued to stay in contact via the blog and FB.

After reading our last entry, she commented that she was back in Agonda and it would be nice to meet again. Recognizing our friends, Premgit and Sandhya, from their picture in the blog, she’d approached them in a restaurant saying, “I know you!” A day later, I found Janice in the same restaurant. We hugged, remarking how well we knew each other after just one other physical meeting several years ago! The power of social networking at its best.