Varanasi

Last I left off, we were about to take a bus to Polkara. While sitting on top of the bus, Ryan said, “Hey, why don’t we just go to India today?” We all looked at each other with high eyebrows and agreed that it was a good idea. We had had our fun in Nepal, and Polkara was ten hours out of the way of our next destination, so, the next time the bus came to a halt, we hopped off and searched for a bus going south.  A few hours later we found ourselves at the border. After receiving a quick stamp from the Nepali side, we sauntered right on through the traffic congested archway leading to India without getting so much as a glance from the border patrol officer as he spit his chew and conversed with his buddies. Nothing like the border leading to and from Mexico in Southern California, that’s for sure. After barely being able to find “India’s customs and Immigration” table (literally a table with three men and stamps) we received all of the necessary documentation for our travels throughout India.

The next part of the story is quite similar to so many of my foreign bus rides that I have experienced. For some reason, every time I find a bus going somewhere for a third of the cost, I cannot resist booking the ticket, even though I know the bus ride is going to put me through hell. It cost four dollars to go from the Nepal/India border to Varanasi. We left at 6pm and arrived at 4am. Quite possibly the longest eight hours of my life. Squished against several other Indian’s and their luggage, I wasn’t able to watch the road due to the concerns I was having with my heart ceasing to pump blood to the rest of my body because every other minute I thought we were going to crash into a car, motorcycle, person etc. And if that wasn’t happening then I thought we were going to fly off a cliff, run off a bridge, or tip over on a sharp turn going excessive speeds. Tired beyond belief and a bit in shock that we made it to Varanasi in one piece, we picked a rikshaw driver, among many hooting and hollering, to take us to the nearest guesthouse for the night. The guy seemed pretty confident that we were going to be extremely happy with the guesthouse he was taking us to. We just needed a bed ASAP.

It was uncanny driving down the streets of Varanasi at 4am not because we had never been there before and were unfamiliar with our new surroundings, but because of how vacant it was. It was like seeing a big fluffy sheep that had gotten sheared naked. Just kind of awkward.  Any street in India is usually teaming with life; horns honking, people yelling, dogs barking, but now there was nothing but the putt –putt of the rikshaw as we motored down the road.

Heading down a dark alley, we grew a bit nervous. The rikshaw driver must have felt our tension because he reassuringly said “Only two more minutes”, for what seemed to be the fifth time.  All of the sudden the driver cut the engine’s power and we just began to coast in awkward silence until we finally came to a squeaky halt in front of what was apparently our guesthouse. “See, not far at all” the rikshaw driver said with half a chuckle. The place was completely dark, with probably not a soul awake, but too tired to even care, we grabbed our bags and waited as our driver rang what appeared to be a doorbell. A few minutes went by and with the anxious tapping of our driver’s foot being the only sound in the alleyway; he looked back at us with one eyebrow higher than the other, and a less than comforting smile and with a crack in his voice said, “He should be coming”. Finally we heard a faint solitary murmur making its way down the stairs. With a sigh of relief and a half hearted smile, the driver exclaimed “Ah, here he is”. The perturbed Guesthouse manager exchanged a few words in Hindi with our driver and then looked at us, as if just realizing we were there, and welcomed us in. After paying the driver, we proceeded up a flight of stairs to our room. Thank God we happened to be on the second floor. I don’t think we could have made it up another flight. Creaking the door open, we all layed our eyes on two full sized beds. The three of us without hesitating, dropped our bags, pushed the beds together and before the manager could say, “See you in the mor…” we were fast asleep.

Waking up at the crack of noon the next day, sore to the core, feeling as if I had just played in a water polo tournament from the bus ride, I made my way down the small cobblestone streets to the Varanasi River. It was actually only a few block away from where we were staying. I’m pretty sure our guesthouse manager, Raja, had mentioned that, but then again he could have said anything about the place and I would have believed it I was so tired.

Seeing the river for the first time had me at a loss for words. I didn’t know what to think of it, like so many things here in India. It was massive! Even during the current dry season it was still huge. I could see far off in the distance where the water level normally resides, probably five times larger than the already enormous river. Along the bank of the river were all sorts of temples, houses, shops, guesthouses. The river side was thriving! Tons of people walking about, people selling things, and oddly enough people bathing right there in front of me. The words that Kelli, Ryan and I used to describe the river weren’t beautiful, majestic or pretty, but instead holy, spiritual and sacred. The place just sent off vibes of spirituality. You could feel it as you stood in its presence.  What I soon found out is that this very river is one of the most sought after places to come and “clean” yourself of the bad things you have done in your life. People travel hundreds of miles to visit this river just to touch and bathe in its holy waters.

As the sun began to set, we decided to hire a boat driver to take us out on the river at night. As we slowly drifted downstream towards the more populated area, the feelings of holiness were somewhat intensified as we became slowly engulfed by a light fog. The lights on the shore now had an eerie blur to them, the candles that others placed in the river, representing blessings to their deceased loved ones, gave a mysterious tint to the water’s surface that was spectral and fantastic. We could see huge blazing infernos lit ashore through the light fog. We began taking pictures of it, thinking they were bonfires, but all of the sudden our boatman quickly said, “No photo.” Unsure why, we inquired with the boatman, however he didn’t speak English all that well, so we went on in our bewilderment down the river.  

Suddenly as the lights from the populated area grew brighter, we could see that there were multitudes of boats all around us, and we were all in route to the same location. We could hear music and see an assembly of people on the shore. There appeared to be five short tables, with younger men sitting on them, each with a shrine on it.  These men seemed to be the center of attention among hundreds of people both seated and standing, as there was loud music playing, with them singing to it. As they sang they began a spiritual ritual. Watching inquisitively from the water’s edge, we witnessed a magnificently detailed ceremony, acted out in unity by these five men. There was fire involved, flowers, smoke, bells ringing. It truly was quite the spectacle to witness. The spiritual ceremony was done to show respect to the gods and to those that have passed at the water’s edge.

This next part is a bit gory, so if you are at all squeamish you can skip to the next paragraph without missing too much… Many on their death beds come and die in the city of Varanasi so that their bodies can be burnt at the river’s edge, sending their ashes into this holy river. The “bon fires” that I saw from the river I found out were recently deceased people that were being burned. This aggrandizement is done 24 hours a day, seven days a week on the river’s shore. There is no shame in covering the bodies as they burn so the next day as I was walking along the river, I came to that same point where I had seen the “bonfire” and saw a number of bodies being burned, all in different stages of their inferno. The sight was horrific, but I had to respect the process and the cultural significance to these people. The day after I found out that the families that cannot afford this cremation resort to other methods of passing on their loved ones in this sacred river by weighing them down and dropping their bodies into the river to sink to the bottom.  I unfortunately witnessed what happens to these bodies when they are not weighed down properly. During the day, we took another boat to the other side of the river. In the distance I could see a large white log heading towards the boat. Sure enough the “white long” was a pale, bloated, deteriorating body that had come loose from its weights. Our boatman laughed as he saw the looks of terror on our faces. Open caskets are hard enough for me, but what I saw in the water and burning on the river side, will forever be stuck in my brain.  

Okay, getting back to the good stuff, we ended up doing a tour of the city, seeing all kinds of great things from the University of Varanasi, which is one of the nation’s greatest educational institutions, to Gandhi’s temple, which was remarkable with the intricate stonework replica of India that he solely created himself.  We saw all sorts of interesting Hindu temples, learned all about the large number of gods that the Hindu’s believe in, and really got a feel for what Indian culture was like. We got to see an actual silk factory hard at work, which was really quite fascinating how it all is made. We even got to experience some fantastically tasting local Indian food. So many creative dishes that all tasted so good! The Varanasi River is by far the greatest spectacle to see in Varanasi, but there is so much history, culture and amazing sights to see in this extremely old city.  

What an experience it has been in this first week here in India. So much has already been experienced, seen and done. I am hesitantly excited to see what else this beautiful country has in store for me. Next stop, Agra to see the Taj Mahal!