varanasi

varanasi, india

where the ganga swallows the varuna and assi rivers is found the holiest city in hinduism, varanasi. the city of shiva is considered so sacred because to die here is to free oneself from moksha, the cycle of birth and death. i don't know that i've noticed an inordinate number of old people here, but there are enough sadhus here to suggest this is like a filthy south asian version of palm springs or florida condominiums. i don't mean to suggest that anything terribly untoward is occurring here, but one can't help but notice that a religion's most sacred river is aesthetically disgusting.

lining the western bank of the river for well over two miles are a series of ghats, essentially concrete steps descending to the river where pilgrims can bathe themselves in its sacred waters. or burn the dead remains of their relatives. or do laundry. maybe i should go back to the previous. there is one functioning and one dormant burning ghat as far as i've been able to tell. at these ghats, processions march their deceased, covered in orange saris lined with refulgent golds, down to the banks of the ganga. the family members then place the body down and splash water all over it for a minute or two. at this point it joins the queue and is eventually surrounded by firewood (the price of burning is based on the type and weight of firewood used).

there are a series of levels allowing for several bodies to be burned simultaneously. yesterday, there had to be close to a dozen miniature pyres burning and the action goes through the night. if you have not had your morning coffee, there is nothing more sensorally explosive to alert you than to see a stack of logs with the lower half of a human leg sticking out. we basically sat along the side in the viewing area, solemnly taking everything in.

but while i will not enlist myself as an opponent to a ritual that has a great deal of meaning to so many, so much so that they spend money and time that they do not have to give their kin a respectful ending. what i will say is that as these bodies are disposed in the ganga, along with the detergent from the laundry and the shampoo from the bathers (some of whom are right next to the burning ghats), perhaps there's a way to combine tradition with respect for mother earth.

tip my cap
mark twain said that varanasi (then benares) was '...older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together.' while the quote continues to be iconical, i would just like to point out who wrote it. from a guy who is traveling via vayama.com, uses internet cafes, and likes to space out on trains listening to his ipod, i have to raise my glass to a man who did it all (and more) in the age of steamships.

a tale of two rickshaw rides
an hour before a late night train ride from the agra train station, we were treated to an autorickshaw driver who quoted us the correct price off the bat and then drove us smoothly on trafficless roads to the blaring, yet beautiful, soundtrack of indian music. to steal from david foster wallace, what i know about indian music can be written on the rim of a shot glass with a dull crayon, but i will say that the next time you hear that high pitched female lead in an indian restaurant, it all kind of makes sense here.
....and then we arrived in varanasi the following morning. our driver did not take us to the hostel we asked (the price was reasonable, but he still received a commission). the city provided an excellent backdrop for the beginning of an advil commercial. lots of rickshaws, motorbikes, buses, cyclists, children, and, of course, cows throughout the streets. our driver must have been training for the urban auto slalom. at one point he knicked a motorcycle, whose driver tried to give a piece of his mind. the only problem is that his mouth was filled with saliva from all of the pan (local chewing tobacco) in his mouth, so he gargled his invectives instead.