fieldnotes: Faizabad diary

2nd September, 2013. Lucknow to Faizabad is about two hours by road – a very good four-lane road which is a pleasure to drive on. The flatness of the land never ceases to amaze me, having lived most of my life in Jharkhand, Orissa, Chhattisgarh and Madhya Pradesh – all places with hills and forests and water bodies. Cultivated rice fields on either side, mango groves (the best Dussehri mangoes in the country, the driver informs me), we cannot travel two two kilometers without passing a habitation. The Ghagra river runs on our left, just out of sight, with only an occasional glimpse of it visible. The road from Lucknow airport joins the national highway going to Faizabad and on to Muzaffarnagar. At this junction there are still police barricades in place, put up last week to stop the sants and mahants from congregating in Faizabad / Ayodhya for the proposed chaurasi-kosi parikrama. The sants have been arrested. Yesterday a contingent from neighbouring Madhya Pradesh made an attempt to enter Faizabad and they, too, are now guests of the State. It’s a win-win situation, explains Anil who is driving me – the BJP consolidates the Hindu vote by raising the issue of the temple once again; the SP gets the Muslim votes by not allowing the parikrama to go ahead. Me – I don’t vote, he says, how do I choose between crooks and charlatans?

Monsoon clouds over the Sarayu river at Guptar Ghat.

We drive though the cantonment at Faizabad to have a look at the Sarayu river. This is the name of the Ghagra river as it flows past Faizabad and Ayodhya. At the Guptar Ghat the river is in spate and the current strong. I am sad to see the water so muddy – sure sign of deforestation and erosion upstream. It is here that Lord Ram entered the water and never came out, explains Anil – he attained Samadhi. I wonder whether Ram drowned by accident, while my friend suggested later that evening that he may have committed suicide in remorse and sorrow at Sita’s passing. Either way it sounds irreverent, but then Ram is not one of my favourite persons in Hindu mythology.

Stone idols on the steps leading down the river. The shivling I recognize. Who is the woman?

More fascinating than the story is the old temple built on the banks of the river here, the little stone idols on the steps leading down to the river, the paintings on the ceiling of the entrance to the temple. It is run down and neglected, yet its beauty comes through. There is serenity here, and calm, and well worth a visit – and an unhurried one at that.