The Romantics in Benares
“The world constantly renews itself, and when you look at it that way, regret and nostalgia seem equally futile. The past does live on, in people as well as cities. I have only to look back on that winter in Benares to realize how hard it is to let go of it.”
Mark Twain once visited the Benares Hindu University in Varanasi on a lecture tour. His observation: “Benares/Varanasi is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together.’
Well, it’s hard to believe anything has modernized since Twain’s visit, other than this internet cafe and Cocacola.
Located on the bank of the sacred Ganges River “The Great Mother” in the state of Uttar Pradesh., Benares is the city of Shiva and might be the holiest places in India. Hindu pilgrims come to bathe in the waters of the Ganges, a ritual that washes away all sins. Additionally the city is an auspicious place to die, since expiring here offers moksha — liberation from the cycle of birth and death.
The Ganges River is extremely polluted. Each day about 60,000 people go down to the river to take a holy dip, brush their teeth, and wash their clothes along a 7m area of the river. Along this same stretch, 30 sewers are continuously discharging into the river. Additionally the ashes of the cremated bodies are dumped in the river. From my tiny rooftop room in OM Rest House, surprisingly the river doesn’t look dirty which makes it all the more enticing to join the Indians swimming in the river.
It’s a magical city where the most intimate rituals of life and death take place in public on the city’s famous ghats (steps). Probably it’s this accessibility to the practices of an ancient religious tradition that captivates so many travelers, even at the hottest time during the year, right befroe Monsoon at 46 degrees, the young western yuppies and midlife Japanese drop-outs are wondering in the maze looking lanes, napping in the empty cafes, or spending time for exotic tabla and sitar as what I did.
Benares might is the most difficulty place I have been. The “old city” where most budget travellers stay consists of narrow, winding cobblestone lanes. The lanes are so narrow that when a large cow walks down the street people are forced to lean against the walls to make room. These cows leave piles of manure all over the streets forcing people to constantly look where they are stepping often causing run-ins between people. And power cut every night! Had to count on luck for not stepping on dungs at night on way back from night cafe chats with other lonely wanderlusts from every corner of the world. So many Israels, Hebrew accent and Israels laffes in every small restaurant and internet cafe.
The air is so so heavy, thick and filled with the combined fragrance of urine, cow shit and incense. Flies (no mosquito, too hot for the insect to survive) are buzzing everywhere. A dog gave birth to 4 puppies, 2 of them died right after, and the dead bodies on the street being accosted by the flies. The other midday saw a recently deceased man (maybe heat stroke?) being dragged away by locals. As custom has it, if this man who died here does not have enough rupee to pay for a funeral pyre, his corpse will be thrown in the Ganges.
The rickshaw wallas (men), the touts, the multitudes of beggars, the shoeless dirty children wearing tatters of material for clothing, the limbless men, the lepers, the sadhus, and young boys sent by their fathers to bring tourists to their silk shop, are extremely aggressive and persistent here. Being the lowest season for tourism, the very few travelers are constantly being bombarded by men offering “rickshaw? silk? hashish? massage?”. I constantly hear, “Yes, madam. come see my shop. best silk. best weed. you want an Indian boyfriend?” And am constantly pleaded with for money from the beggars. It’s difficult to continue walking in the face of these unwashed women holding tiny babies asking for food or milk, in fact it’s impossible to continue walking when you acknowledge it. But nonetheless, I cannot give to everyone. Most times one must continue walking or even be stern with a child saying “chaalo” (you go).
I sounds so cold hearted but it’s the reality of this place, have to say Chaalo to the flies and fly-like beggers all the time… If as visitors in this place don’t desensitize themselves somewhat to the harshness of what they see, theywe would never last in India for more than a week.
Yet, given all this craziness there is something so beautiful and unbeatable about this place. Being on the river at night is very “shanti”. As the sun sets children fly kites on the bank while people send floating candles in remembrance of their loved ones down the river. Looking out on the river at least 100’s of flickering lights illuminating the river while puja ceremonies take place on the main ghat which includes singing, bells clanging, and clouds of incense. And the morning when the first bell rimgs from outside of my rooftop window, floating down the river around 5:00am as the sun rose. The majestic colors of the early morning light transformed this intense, magical place and I couldn’t help but feel like I was witnessing something, well, older than legend.
After leaving Benares for 5 days, I start to miss the holy city, profoundly.