India: Varanasi the Incomprehensible

"You can become blind by seeing each day as a similar one. Each day is a different one, each day brings a miracle of its own. It's just a matter of paying attention to this miracle."  (Paulo Coelho)

Before I went to India, I knew that I could expect to see an intense religious devotion there; the kind of faith that leads people to make pilgrimages just to plunge themselves in waters that are considered to be sacred. I also knew that I could expect layers of filth. But I hadn’t expected that I would witness the convergence of those two elements in such an unforgettable and disturbing way. Varanasi was the intersection. That is why I will devote an entire blog to the city.

The atmosphere changed rapidly as I approached the center of the city and navigated roads that were thick with people, livestock, and rickshaws. I stopped at a strange spot. The guide who had accompanied the driver told me that the car couldn’t go any further. He hopped out and practically ran through the narrow winding alleys of the Old City. I clumsily trailed behind, trying to keep up and avoid both running into cows and stepping in their excrement.

I walked down to the river to see the Varanasi sunset scene. I couldn’t take more than a few steps at time without children under the age of 10 trying to sell me boat trips or flower candles or trying to lead me to the silk shop of their “uncle”. There were goats and cows everywhere and of course, sizeable piles of their droppings everywhere with accompanying flies . I was ready to call it night, but still felt compelled to walk further along the  steps leading down to the Ganges.

I reached the Dashashwamedh Ghat. I’m glad I saw it. Hundreds of people had gathered, priests were preparing to perform rituals, and chanting was being played over the loudspeakers. You could tell that it all encompassed the purest of intentions.


I went down to the river before sunrise the next morning — before most other tourists, apparently. I was a lone antelope for a pack of little lion sales kids, and they attacked me with sales pitches until I settled on a price with one. He led me to a boat and I got in, naively assuming he’d call over someone who’d actually row the boat. Instead, the little kid himself — who was no more than 8 years old — got in and started rowing. Culture shock #1 of the day.


It was still almost completely dark when I started. As I made my way down, I could see that I was approaching flames. The boy pointed and said, “Burning Ghats.” Culture shock #2. You know it’s coming, but you don’t realize how exposed it is until you actually see it. Right there on the side of the Ganges, bodies are cremated and their ashes are poured into the river. Corpses that aren’t cremated — like those of pregnant women and children — are wrapped and set out to decompose in the river.

As the sun rose, I began to see the bathing. Culture shock #3. I’d seen the animal feces, the burning bodies, the sewage, and general trash of the Ganges, but none of that could prepare me for actually seeing people submerge themselves in that water.

People began to worship it because it was a giver of life for humans and other animals. The purpose of the cremations taking place along the river was to have people return to the place that gave them life. The Ganges has provided for the growth of and life of one sixth of the world’s population. As the sun continued to rise, the river became more crowded with tourists in boats and pilgrims and priests in the water. The boy rowing my boat continued to try to sell me anything. He tried to act nonchalant about the rowing, but I could tell he was getting tired. I asked to go back to where we started. I paid him what we’d settled on, plus the same amount more (which was change to me) as a tip. His eyes grew wide as he received the money and ran off.


I decided to walk along the ghats for a bit and saw more and more people were gathering at the edge of the river. Some had even brought their children out for a family dip in the Ganges; the river that sewage and industrial waste flows into; the river of life that’s slowly wasting away with waste. Polluted rivers are a reality of an industrial world, but to see people bathing in and drinking from one, not necessarily out of necessity, but because of religion continued to shock me. Even though it was a bit disturbing, Varanasi was my favorite city in India. The intricate buildings, the outlandish people, and the eccentric atmosphere made the city unforgettable. 


Sometimes the world contracts with travel, sometimes it expands. In Varanasi, it became larger to me. As I left, what I saw there remained unfathomable.

The trash that litters the river.

The men bathing in the river after the funeral and cremation of a family member.

Every night they preform a ceremony at the Ganges River.

The over crowded steps of the Ganges River in Varanasi.

Crematory

Deep thoughts

The piles and piles of rubbish is astonishing. This is where you will find people washing their laundry and children searching for food.

Bathing in the holy water.

Taking a little break from laundry on the scorching hot day.

The family I adore. They were so warm and welcoming. They demanded I take a picture with them =)

Always an interesting face to see in Varanasi.

By far, one of my favorite pictures. I love how natural and at peace she is.

This lady and her scowl! Ha She was not loving the picture.

Absolutely beautiful girl at the Ganges River. Sweet as well!

A "holy" man and his Chi..

"I learned the most important lesson of my life: that the extraordinary is not the birthright of a chosen and privileged few, but of all people, even the humblest. That is my one certainty: we are all the manifestation of the divinity of God."
(Paulo Coelho)