Scooting through Jabalpur, Gotegaon and a first dip in the Narmada

Monday 28 September 2026

Today we went looking for a sleeping mat for a Dutchman of 1.92 metres (6'4"). So off we went, racing through Jabalpur on scooters: Yasha and her cousin together on one scooter, and me on my own borrowed one.

That's an adventure in itself. I think I committed about two hundred traffic offences, and here in India they're all allowed and all possible. Calmly riding against the traffic, running red lights, weaving between pedestrians crossing the road. And you have to keep in mind that éveryone does this, so you need a sixth sense just to survive. Then add the cows, dogs and monkeys, who all happily join in this wonderful chaos.

In the end we didn't find the sleeping mat, though we did pick up a few other things. But by then that was no longer the point. Yasha's cousin had twisted her ankle getting off the scooter, so now Yasha had to ride. After a short stretch that turned out to be no success either. So Yasha kept the scooter balanced so her cousin could ride, and that's how we hurried back through the chaos of Jabalpur.

After that we visited other relatives, where as usual we were stuffed with delicious and slightly less delicious meals and sweets. What more could you want?

But be warned: "No thanks, I'm full" doesn't exist here 😉. Only after a long discussion, and by repeatedly holding your hand over your plate, will they accept for a brief moment that you really don't want any more. Until you stop paying attention for five minutes and suddenly there's another stack of rotis, a scoop of dal and whatever-else on your plate. There's simply no greater hospitality than that 😊.

Tuesday 29 September 2026

Finally. After all the stories from Yasha's mother and other relatives, I get to see my mother-in-law's birthplace: the family home, where two of her brothers now live.

According to the station, this place is called Shridham. According to Google Maps it's called Gotegaon, and the locals call it that too. Nobody has been able to explain to me why. But hey, that's India: not everything has a logical reason or explanation.

My sala, a cousin of Yasha's (that's what I call him), had warned me repeatedly not to go. It would be too dangerous. The traffic would be even worse than in the cities, and life there too intense, still from a bygone era.

I thought: whatever. We're just going. I hád to see this place, the place where all those beautiful stories of Yasha and her mother come from.

And yes, once we got there it really was like going fifty years back in time, in terms of roads and buildings. But above all it had charm, much more than it felt bad or old-fashioned. I loved it from the very first day.

The family home itself had sadly lost some of that old charm since the middle uncle started renovating it rather thoroughly. The Indian way, let's leave it at that 😉.

As always, we were warmly welcomed. The middle uncle was so enthusiastic about our Narmada Parikrama that he took us straight to the river, about fifteen minutes from Gotegaon.

That became our first meeting with the Narmada. And it gave me a special feeling. Like: shit, we're really doing this. A walk of about 3,500 kilometres, from Amarkantak to the Arabian Sea and back again. At that moment it became real. No longer a dream, but reality.

This wasn't the start of the river yet, but a stretch further downstream. In Amarkantak, at the source, we only begin on 11 October. According to the Hindu calendar that's a good day to start an undertaking like this, and believe it or not: here you stick to those rules. First we were going to leave in the last week of September. Then, because of flooding, it became 4 October, our wedding anniversary. And now, because the calendar says so, 11 October.

Oh well, we'll get there. Slowly slowly 😄.

I could go on for hours about this day, but then I might as well write a book. What a day, and what a first meeting with Gotegaon and the Narmada.

Wednesday 30 September 2026

After such a great day yesterday I thought, like a true Dutchman of course: I haven't taken a dip in the Narmada yet! So Yasha and I, just the two of us, got on yet another scooter borrowed from one of the uncles. Along small roads, through the beautiful landscape, to the river.

Was it one hundred percent safe when I dove into the water? No idea. But you only live once. And it was more than worth it: lovely cool water and a beautiful view over the landscape. Whether the water was clean… let's not dwell on that too long 😉.

In the afternoon we went on a trip to the Jhoteshwar temple, together with the middle uncle, his wife, Yasha and her mother. Here the goddess Tripura Sundari is worshipped. A beautiful temple in bright colours, with vivid orange as the main colour and all the pomp and splendour you often see at temples like this.

After the family's prayers we headed home again. "Why don't we let Diederik drive? I'm sure it'll be fine," said Yasha's uncle with a wink. So I immediately said: "Sure, no problem, I'll drive."

And so I drove the car back to Gotegaon. It's mostly countryside here and you don't expect to see a soul, yet those narrow roads are always packed with scooters and cars. Where do they all come from? No idea. It remains a strange phenomenon to me.

So: sixth sense on. Watching out for everything weaving around, keeping left, shifting gears with my left hand because the steering wheel is on the right. And then of course there are a hundred deep potholes in the road, plus invisible speed bumps: those small, sharp humps without any white markings. One moment of not paying attention and the underside of your car or your suspension is wrecked.

Strangely enough we all survived, and I didn't hit anyone. Maybe a little prayer does help after all 😉.

After that adrenaline rush, the eldest uncle, the only one who eats meat, wanted to show me the meat market. I thought: sure, I'd like to experience that once.

First, as usual in India, we made a hundred stops along the way. A quick chai, visiting some people, showing me off for a bit. But eventually we did make it to the meat market.

And that's quite different from the Netherlands. There everything is already neatly cut up in the butcher's display or on the supermarket shelf, and you never see a live animal being slaughtered. At this market everything is still alive, whether it's a goat or a chicken. You pick out a chicken yourself, the butcher casually takes it out of the cage, and right before your eyes it's slaughtered, plucked and chopped into pieces. I think most Dutch people would go vegan straight after a visit like that 😉.

After this confrontation with reality we took the chicken home. There Yasha's uncle went straight into the kitchen (by the way, in Hindi you call your mother's brother maamaa-ji). He turned it into a delicious dish, which tasted even better with a small glass of something whose name you're not supposed to say out loud 😉.

You couldn't wish for a better end to the day.