Varanasi on the Ganges

The 14 hour train journey to Varanasi was quite comfortable and we managed to get some shuteye in the wee hours of the morn to arrive in the oldest city of India, Benares which is now called Varanasi . I never know why they change the names? We set an alarm for 8am as that seemed to be the general consensus of the time that we should arrive. You have to keep an eye on the time when you travel by train here as there are no announcements to advise what train station is next. Not only this but you need to be prepared for a quick exit as you don't get much grace to alight.   This is in part due to the short space of time that the train is on the platform but also the time it takes to squeeze yourself off the train through those who are trying to board the train. I'm sure there have been many people who have missed their station due to these factors.

Varanasi is nestled on the river Ganges which is the Elvis of them all to wash away your sins and release your karma. For the Hindus, it is the mecca to be cremated and then scattered in the river. Which leads me to a joke I heard from an Italian artist in Varkala. An Indian and an Aussie are in Varanasi, the Indian said to the Aussie, I have come here to die. The Australian replies - oh really, I came here yesterdie! Yes, well that's the reputation our strong accent has.

With all this activity the Ganges is heavily polluted as you can imagine, but this doesn't stop the faithful pilgrims from jumping in boots and all to purge themselves. Then of course there are those irresistable men who love to (it seems) to flaunt it in their Boratesque swimsuits, leaving nothing to even the dullest imagination And why is it again that women can't show their shoulders? There is certainly an unbalance in liberties here.

Altogether there are about 12 ghats that line the Ganges. Two of these are for the cremations - one being a traditional burning ghat and the other more like our crematorium.

The traditional burning ghat is where bodies are burnt on top of piles of wood. The amount of wood and quality of wood is chosen by the relatives, depending on what they can afford. Ideally they use quality sandalwood which is the most expensive. It takes about 3 hours to properly cremate a body in this fashion and about 120kgs of wood which is sold at 150 rupees per kg.

Not everyone can afford to be cremated in Varanasi however.  If you do make it to the holy city to die and cannot afford a cremation the next best option is to be tied to a rock and thrown into the river where hopefully you will lay peacefully on the bottom until you are decomposed. This unfortunately is not a certainty as many come loose from their tether and float to the surface.

Like a wedding, a death ceremony is not without its flamboyant traditions. The deceased is either brought from afar to Varanasi or if their death is imminent they would make the journey prior to their death, perhaps some not making it to choose the wood for their pyre.

Once the wood negotiations have been made and the priest selected, the body is wrapped in a shiny orange cloth, perhaps silk, and placed upon a stretcher with garlands of marigolds and jasmine. They are then carried by outcasts called Doms through the streets and down the narrow alleys to the ghats. They are briefly dipped in the river for a quick cleanse and placed on the pyre. At this stage the women must say goodbye as they are not allowed to be present for the ceremony. Apparently this is because crying inhibits the happy release of the soul.

The ceremony continues as the father, elder or priest of the congregation uncovers the body, sprinkling sandalwood powder over it then getting their torch lit by the eternal flame and circling the body five times before setting it alight. Not sure what the karmic consequences are if you lose count of the circling or how this in fact came about. Why five and not 10?

During the burning, the body is regularly stoked to assist with the incineration. Some parts of the body, the skull, a mans chest, a women's hips are particularly dense and may need to be smashed and if that fails thrown into the river.

This was all rather fascinating and weird to watch however you are unable to take photo's out of respect, although as with much of India you can get anything for a price, and there was a film crew there filming it. All of this was kindly narrated to us by a well dressed young man. As we were not just off the boat, we wondered perhaps cynically what the catch for this supposedly free information was but he professed not to be a guide but he gave this service for his karma. We then learnt about the hospice next door where poor people without family to give them a send off are cared for before their departure.  There resides the saintly 'mother' who is apparently 89 and for the mere donation of 150 rupees (1kg of wood) each you can pay your respects and she will in return say your name in a prayer and touch your head to cleanse your karma. We did not see any dying in the so called hospice, nor felt any cleaner (especially having to walk through thick brown sludge to get there). Even if it was a scam, it was still worth the knowledgeable guide.

After such a spectacle, we decided to have a break from the carnival of the Ganges and cleanse our bodies in a holy shower back at the hotel. Thankfully our hotel was set back from the busy streets and was a peaceful haven to return to. As you can see from the photo, there is no order or particular direction of traffic, wherever there is a gap go hell for leather to fill it - pedestrian, cow, goat, donkey, rickshaw or vehicle.

As we were only in Varanasi for a couple of days we wanted to fit in as much as we could and I always on the hunt for the variety of wonderful food, and had read a review on a good restaurant, seemingly nearby. We could have walked but with our sense of direction and intuition we decided to take our first bicycle rickshaw.  The negotiations with the throng of competing cyclists resulted with a frail looking man who appeared to be in his 60's. Feeling guiltily imperialistic as he struggled to pull our combined 150kg we weaved through the traffic.  What seemed like a nice way to travel is actually quite frightening when you consider the rickety structure that you are bouncing along in. But, it is widely used and quite adaptable for all types of cargo, including goats. This being the case, you need to inspect the seat and condition of the carriage before embarking on your journey.

Once again, we discovered that in actual fact our driver did not know where we were going and intuition led me to believe he had headed in the wrong direction. Stopping along the way he asked for directions at least 3 times. We have started to learn that the head wobble does not necessarily mean yes but could also mean I have absolutely no idea but will give it my best shot. We would then set off in another direction and again, 5-10 minutes later seek more advice of which everyone seems to be the expert and directing us another way. We were a little frazzled by this stage and our bums aching from the lack of suspension so we opted out and decided to walk and find anywere to escape and eat as it was getting quite late. The driver was not happy that we only paid him the agreed price as he seemed to believe that his navigating efforts required much more for our lengthy ride, even though we never reached the destination.

The search for the restaurant or any reasonable establishment was fruitless so admitting defeat, we opted for an autorickshaw to take us back to the hotel to the luxury of room service. All of our efforts were rewarded with the best vegetarian meal I have had yet washed down with a cold Kingfisher.

The next day we ambled along the banks of the Ganges again as it is a hive of activity. Each ghat has it's own name and characteristics. We started off at my favourite god, Hanuman's Ghat - not actually by choice as the rickshaw driver misinterpreted our destination. It's quite a gamble really when you go out, such a surprise to arrive anywhere in one piece, let alone where you want to go :-)

You can take a ride on the many floating devices on offer, some are skillfully crafted and painted and others look like they're ready for the funeral pyre. Like many modes of transport, it never ceases to amaze me how many Indians they can fit into one vehicle. The best time to float along the river is at dawn or dusk, when the river is quite mystical. We never got to the dawn boats as by this stage we were quite exhausted and couldn't manage getting out of bed that early.

At sunset, the Puja ceremony is performed. Puja is a morning and evening ritual where you sprinkle flowers, light candles and incense and pray. In Varanasi, it is a major show. We were waiting on the steps of the main ghat waiting for this to begin as the crowd kept getting thicker and more entertaining. Such a mix of people and faiths. However spiritual, the banks of the Ganges is definately not a peaceful place. Tourists are constantly followed by children selling postcards, candles, flowers or just looking for handouts. It takes a while to shake them and just when you do another one descends upon you.

You see Sadhu's everywhere in India (holy men dressed in orange toga's, with long dreads and beards who smoke a lot of charras (hash) and devote their lives to one or maybe all of the gods) and there is a high concentration in this holy city. They are not against getting their photo taken for a donation into their tin can. I was not aware of this and got a great shot of an elder who looked like he was casting me to damnation for the rest of the evening.

Eventually the show began after long awaited anticipation whilst the crowd gathered, the sun set, candles were lit and floated on the river. The banks of the river were filled to capacity with boats of all shapes and sizes as this was the best vantage points to view the ceremony. This puja was the longest prayer that I had ever witnessed amidst lots of grandeur and bell ringing, chanting and song. There was also a festival being held in Varanasi that week so after Puja they had an evening line up of musicians and dancers.

We left the festivities early to beat the mass exodus and quell our hunger. It all seemed too tiring to find our way in this maze of streets and we retreated to the surprisingly good room service in the hotel. It really was a quiet retreat and would have been such a magnificent place in its day, but as with much of India's wonderful architecture it is left to fall gradually into decay.

We found that the monkeys also liked the sanctity of the Pallavi International Hotel and we enjoyed watching their antics on the rooftops nearby. These were red faced monkeys and larger than the playful blackfaced monkeys of Pushkar. As usual we had our windows open to catch the evening breeze and with a mouthful of my delicious meal I suddenly saw out of the corner of my eye, a stealthy figure quite close by. Sure enough a monkey was facing me on the rooftop opposite with a hungry glint in his eye preparing to make the leap across. It was only a small leap away for him but I managed to close it before he made it, leaving him to find another source of room service for himself.

I would have liked to stay longer in Varanasi as we only just scratched the surface of the city but we were also becoming more in need of peace and solace, which is something you cannot get in most cities.

Our next destination was Chennai which was previously called Madras. As fond as I am of the curry we were just using this as a port to fly into and then head for the coast of Tamil Nadu. Frustratingly though we had to fly back to Delhi which was backtracking and then connect to a flight to Chennai.

After being in the ancient city of Varanasi and witnessing how time has relatively stopped still there - the power is intermittent as is any modern technology such as internet, I didn't expect much from the 'international' airport. We were not disappointed as we arrived at a shed like structure which reminded me of Alice Springs in the 70's. It was characteristicly Indian, complete chaos and survival of the fittest to get through any queue. The security was really tight as we queued forever to be searched. The males being scrutinised much more than the females. We only made it through after our plane was supposed to have boarded, but this was OK as most flights had been delayed anyway. It was anyone's guess as to what flight was boarding as there were no display screens or announcements and you just had to watch for your plane.

Our bird of choice this time was Spicejet (aptly named for a trip to Madras), and similar to Virgin was going for the funky vibe. The stewards were very good looking although they favoured the heavy kohl eyeliner which was a bit OTT. We were getting a little anxious as we had a connecting flight in Delhi to change to but after half an hour we were boarding and on our way.

Catch you all again in Chennai.

lots of love

xo