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On the Ganges
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By Christina

Situated on the banks of the Ganges River, Varanasi is arguably the holiest city in all of India. Many Indians consider it the center of the Hindu universe, and for thousands of years, pilgrims have come here to wash away their sins and cremate their loved ones in the holy Ganges River. I have wanted to visit Varanasi for a long time, to see the holy pageantry that takes place at the ghats (steps leading to the river) every morning and night. I think my excitement was contagious, because the kids genuinely seemed excited to board the boat and check out the scene. Or, maybe it was the prospect of seeing bodies being cremated on giant burning pyres on the shore. Whatever the case, we had a nice two days of sightseeing and came away with a good feel for the spiritual essence of the place.

Cremation Ghatt
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Headquarters for our stay was a “heritage” hotel located northwest of the river, the Pallavi International Hotel. In India, “heritage” is code for “old” and some of the so-called heritage hotels are real dumps. Others are former palaces and are quite stunning. Ours was somewhere in the middle. The lobby and restaurant with their faux maharaja décor were a bit dumpy, but the rooms were spacious, clean and very comfortable. Best of all, the place had a nice garden and on two of the nights we were there, huge wedding festivals took place. Apart from the booming of the fireworks and marching bands that accompanied the parties, it was a lot of fun to check out the crowd and watch the ceremony. (Although I have never been to an Indian wedding, I have a romanticized view of them from two of my favorite movies – “Bend it Like Beckham” and “Monsoon Wedding” – so hopefully I will get to one some day).

Ceremony on the river
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After a late lunch of toasted cheese sandwiches (a staple these days), we headed out to the river for a boat ride. As we stepped from the hotel, our senses were absolutely assaulted with all things Indian. There were more people on the street than I have yet seen in India. Along with all the people were stray dogs, assorted rickshaws, motorized tuk tuks, cows, and street carts selling their wares. It took us a long time to make our way to the river, as the traffic moved at a snail’s pace. When we went to board the boat, we walked by a crematorium with an enormous wood pile outside (pricing depends on the type of wood, with sandalwood being the most expensive). I didn’t realize it at first, but the fires burning on the shore a few yards away from us were bodies being cremated. It was hard not to gape. But, this was just a small ghat, with the bigger crematorium down river. It was in that direction that we headed.

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It is hard to describe the energy and frenetic scene of the river at dusk. As night fell and we paddled along the river, music began playing from the amplified systems set up at two of the ghats. These ghats hold nightly religious ceremonies, with priests in orange and burgundy robes chanting and burning incense, and hundreds of devotees praying. In some ways, it felt like the ceremony was a staged tourist event. But, that was not the case. This was the real deal and the atmosphere was downright magical.

Sarnath
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Further along, we came to the Manikarnika Ghat, the main cremation ghat. The spot is the holiest on the river, as this is where the wife of the god Shiva dropped her earring in the river. The water in the river is said to derive from the sweat expended by Shiva in searching for the lost earring. To die and be cremated in Varanasi frees you from the cycle of death and rebirth, giving you a straight shot to nirvana, regardless of how bad your karma was at the time of your death. Of course, if you are a pregnant woman, a child under twelve, a leper, or your death resulted from a cobra bite, you cannot be cremated and instead must be weighted down with rocks and set afloat in the river, mafia style.

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It was fascinating to watch the families bring down the bodies of their loved ones on stretchers covered in saffron blankets and dip them in the Ganges. Some families opted to merely splash the body, others went for the full dunking method. After that, the body was placed on the first available pyre for cremation, where it would burn for close to five hours. Once completed, the ashes were removed and scattered in the Ganges. We must have sat in the boat watching this spectacle for close to an hour. It was like nothing we had ever seen and was very beautiful in a macabre sort of way. On the way back, each of us lit a flower candle, made a wish, and carefully placed it in the water. Our floating candles joined others floating on the river, making a lovely sight.

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Next morning, we were back on the river. This time the focus of our attention was on the scores of pilgrims taking their ritual bath in the Ganges. Men disrobed down to their undies and lungis (a type short sarong) and waded into the water, splashing themselves and each other. The women were more discreet, bathing fully dressed in their colorful saris. We saw pilgrims washing, praying, and meditating half submerged in the river. We even saw people drinking the water. Now, this may not sound remarkable to you, but if you saw the water in which these folks were frolicking, you would be horrified. Apparently, the Ganges is one of the dirtiest rivers in the world. Recent samples of the river show that it contains 1.5 million fecal bacteria per 100 MLs of water (for water that is safe, the figure is less than 500). The problem is that along with all the dead bodies, cremation ashes, and dirt from the bodies of the 60,000 people that bathe in the river each day, close to thirty sewers discharge their waste directly into the river. We didn’t want to touch the water or even get splashed by it, let only take a bath in it or, God forbid, drink it. We explained to the kids that most of the people bathing probably knew that the water was dirty, but their desire for the spiritual experience outweighed their concerns.

Morning Baths
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We disembarked at the old city and carefully made our way to the Golden Temple, dedicated to the God of all Hindu gods, Shiva. I say “carefully” because nearly every inch of the path was covered with litter and poop of some sort or another – cow, dog, goat, and human. It was absolutely revolting. I couldn’t help wondering what the area is like in the monsoon season when all of the waste must float freely through the alleys and the sewers overflow. The Golden Temple was nice, but the waste as well as the police presence in the area (the temple sits next to a mosque and the Muslims and Hindus do not always play nice) definitely took something away from the experience.

Grayson with Tibetan friends
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We returned to the hotel for a couple of hours of down time and breakfast. We were hoping to catch the Academy Awards, but the station on which they were televised was not available at our hotel. Ordinarily, missing the Oscars would crush me. But, since I have only seen one movie in the six months we have been gone, it didn’t really matter.

The afternoon was spent experiencing religion of another kind, namely, Buddhism. We visited the small town of Sarnath, about 10 kms from Varanasi, known as the place where Buddha preached his first sermon. Located in a very peaceful park, far away from the chaos of Varanasi, we enjoyed the quiet, marveling at the enormous stupa that has stood there since the third century BC, and checking out the Tibetan Buddhist pilgrims. We especially liked seeing the tree that is said to be a direct descendent of the bodhi tree (I named it the “Bodhi grandbaby”) under which Buddha achieved enlightenment.

Varanasi is all about the reality that is India. In addition to the spiritual, we also got a lot of views of the economic realities that are India today. There are literally thousands of bicycle rickshaws around Varanasi, and bicycle rickshaws are the main means of transportation. We wanted to go to a place for dinner one night that was about 8 km from the hotel. The right price, we were told, was 50 rupees to go by bicycle rickshaw, and that is what the bicycle rickshaw-wallahs asked from us. (Only two of us big Westerners could fit comfortably in one bicycle rickshaw, although we would routinely see five or six Indians squeezed into one.) For thirty minutes of hard riding in bare feet, these guys were earning $1.25. And, the sad thing is, we were quite likely the only customers of the day. They happily waited for us for an hour, and rode us home in the dark. We tipped them extravagantly, but couldn’t get over what a tough life it is.

We came away from our time in Varanasi with a new appreciation for the devotion many people have to their religion and the lengths they will go to show that devotion. Although none of us are particularly religious, we nevertheless appreciated the spirituality of the place and its almost mystical quality. Varanasi is one place in India that is not to be missed.