Friday: With Jagannath in Puri

I arrive in Puri and auto to Gandhara Hotel just as a posse of aged English tour-groupies (knobbly white legs in shorts) leave. My disreputable reputation must go before me. The room will not be ready until later, so I have breakfast and sit in the sun by the pool. Yes, there's a pool here. It looks inviting, but nobody uses it. Perhaps they are deterred by the large notice advising that it has a "urine detector". 

I catch up on the news from today's Times of India and yesterday's Calcutta Telegraph (an intelligent and very well-written paper). A feature reveals that a university vice-chancellor has had a city park closed for all but two hours a day as he is "disturbed" by students "sitting closely" on the grass, which he finds objectionable. The new opening hours are 4 - 6 pm; an ideal time for nongrami (as it's called), you might think. It gets dark here at 5.

Look this way and BIG smile, please

When I finally get into Room 34 on the top floor, it is bright and airy with a sea view (just) and a softish bed on which the snooze and recover from the overnight train trip. Which is what I'm doing when Sara 'phones to discuss my now imminent return home. I am to take a daytime train to Calcutta early on Sunday, then catch a flight back to London via Abu Dhabi. I should be under the chill grey skies of home (but Sara's warm embrace) by Monday lunchtime. Puri is hot and steamy, an Indian seaside resort cum pilgrimage centre, or Lourdes-on-Sea. The beach is just 100 yds or so from the hotel, so I take a wander there and later return with my swimming gear. I've lugged it round Northen India for this very purpose. As the Rough Guide warns, this end of the beach, near the fishing village, is not the cleanest. It needs no "urine detector" to detect that it is not a Blue Flag beach, however I risk a quick dip underwater, keeping my mouth firmly shut. The beach shelves steeply, and waves build up powerfully with a strong undertow which claims victims every year. In fact, in a rare Indian concession to H & S, there are lifeguards posted along the beach wearing little conical white hats as ID. Apparently they will hold the hands of weak swimmers (e.g. me) for a small fee, but I don't avail myself of this service. Nor do I take a camel ride, though it looks fun. The camels are docile and draped with marigolds like soft-faced (belching) Hindu deities. Speaking of which, for the first time I see a girl feed fruit to a black street cow, then touch her forehead to it as a mark of respect.

Temple from side street, setting sun

Later into town by cycle rickshaw, arriving as the sun sets behind the mighty 1000-year old Jagannath Temple (current structure c. 1174). Jagannath, Lord of the Universe, is one of the Hindu pantheon I have not encountered before. He has a round black face and is protected by lions, and this place heaves with his devotees - indeed, it is the fourth holiest pilgrimage site in India. Unusually, non-Hindus are not allowed in the great temple complex. A vast square in front of the temple is teeming with thousands upon thousands of people milling around, buying Jagannath-tat from the souvenir stalls or saluting the temple in prayer. And that's just those outside. It is easy to imagine how, in times of tension, a crowd like this could become a murderous mob. I'm not here for the annual Jagannath festival, when a huge image is paraded unstoppably round the town, from which is derived our English word "juggernaut". This evening there are mini-processions, heralded with lights and drums. 

Ready for the chop

I wander round the outer temple walls. There's an image or small shrine every few yards, but otherwise it's business as usual, with hot and cold food stalls along the streets, little shops under the arcades, and occasional glimpses into cavern-like courtyards behind. But for the electric lights and vehicles, it could be a reconstruction of a street scene from medieval London.

After all my high living in Calcutta, I eat basic tonight - fresh-caught kingfish and chips in an open-sided cafe on the beach.