Woolly says – What can you say about spending twenty hours on a train! An Indian train (luckily sleeper)! Sharing those said sleepers with the two women who intrude in my world, it wasn’t easy, but I thought I had managed well which is more that can be said for the others in the group. After a huge rail delay they shuffled onto the platform at Varanasi Junction looking very much the worse for wear, there obviously not proficient travellers like myself.
Some of us had slept through the getting up at 2.30am to catch the train and continued to sleep until an hour before our arrival, whilst some of us lay listening to the snores around us!
Woolly says – Small details, very small ones. A rickshaw dropped us at a road gate that was patrolled by soldiers and pointed to some buildings in the distance, we set off, stepping round the cows and cow poop, very tricky when your weighed down and have small steps. A young man approached from the dark and asked if we needed help, I paused, it’s not the brightest idea to start following someone wherever you are in the world and even on your home turf, moments later and we started following him, I worry about these women and the idea of safety.
It was 1.30am and we were exhausted, and it was a risk we took, the gent told us on the walk through the narrow street’s where we were now falling over cows as they were so narrow, that he lived next door to the hostel, still a risk but we didn’t really have a choice….. well not if we wanted to get there.
Woolly says – Very luckily for us he was true to his word and having hopped over my two hundredth pile of cow poop he even woke the manager to get us in. A few hours of sleep can make a huge difference and having had a quick spruce up I waited for the women to stop admiring the Ganges from the roof top terrace and led the way through the tiny passageways towards breakfast. The place is insane, people, motorbikes, cows, goats and dogs all vying for space to walk. With no idea where we were after two minutes of leaving the room I headed for what appeared to be some daylight and took a sharp right into a large vegetable market which happily was surrounded by tea bars. We sat watching the complete mayhem of Varanasai one of the world’s oldest continually inhabited cities and one of the holiest in Hinduism. Pilgrims come to the Ghats lining the Ganges to wash away sins in the sacred waters or to cremate their loved ones. It’s a particularly auspicious place to die, since expiring here offers moksha (liberation from the cycle of rebirth), the whole lifecycle to part of the Ganges.
Tea and toast devoured we set off to have a proper look at the famous river.
Woolly says – The steps down were steep, and I had to concentrate rather than watch the boats packed with tourists or the men bathing in the water, everywhere you looked there was action and movement, people going about their everyday business which included the holy river at every point. Hundreds of cows were ambling around, while baby goats playfully butted their mother and gulls circled the launches. I’d expected it to smell but other than the Indian dusty smell I’ve grown used to there was nothing. We’d decided to head to the Kashi Vishvanath Temple one of the most famous Hindu temples dedicated to Lord Shiva. A temple has stood on the site since the 1700’s but It has been destroyed and re-constructed a number of times in history. The alleyways were packed with people queuing to enter, I felt terribly guilty that armed guards just kept telling us to move forward until we were at the front of the queue, somehow I just knew what was coming as the lady checking our passports pointed to some lockers, I looked up at Jo and she shook her head, I looked at the hordes of people ready to trample them underfoot and told them to meet me at the Manikarnika Ghat and headed off into the crowds.
He left me a bit speechless, but I could understand not wanting to spend any more time incarcerated. Having handed over everything except our passports and purse we were ushered into the temple complex. It seemed to be made of of two central buildings and side verandas which had a shrine every foot or so. We looked up to see the Golden Tower that stands above the temple, incredible, the gold was burnished and looked heavy, if that makes sense, there was so much of it. Inside we could see a man sitting on the floor washing an oval stone with water while chanting. Queues of people stood pressing to get in with their offerings and be blessed. A large solider beckoned us forward and pointed to what was happening before holding the masses back so we could go in and receive our own blessing, wonderful. The second building looked like a small audience hall with people sitting crossed legged in small groups, although there were thousands in such a small space it felt peaceful. Not wanting to leave the small one to his own devices for to long we finished admiring the silver door surrounds and fought our way back to our belongings.
Woolly says – Although the place was like a moving maze I had eventually found my way towards the banks of the Ganges and having asked a group of cows walked along until I fond myself at one of the most famous Ghats. A Ghat is literally a steep of steps to the river, as the whole place appeared to be steps it was tricky to know which Ghat you were at! My mission led me on until it was obvious that I was in the right place, it is at Manikarnika Ghat that it is believed that a dead human’s soul finds salvation (moksha), when cremated here. It is well known within Indian culture for those close to dying or very old will come to Varanasi, so they can be cremated there and spend their last days absorbing the charisma of the ghat, which they say, makes even death painless and insignificant to be pondered upon. It might be considered morbid to stand and watch bodies being burnt, but as the ladies arrived we stood and watched the love and care a family gave to their deceased loved one as they first washed the body in the holy waters before building a pyre and placing them on, to us as onlookers there was so much decorum, could any of us do it we pondered and all agreed that if it was someone we knew then it wold be incredibly different for us. There were three levels of pyre, the one nearest the water’s edge was for the burning of the lower class in the caste system, there was an irony to this as the richest and higher castes only looked over the holiest of places whilst those that had no statue in society had it lapping at their feet on their last journey.
The whole scene was incredible, strange and surreal, with huge mountains of logs piled up behind us ready to be purchased by the kilo for the pyres, the cows wandering over the bodies and taking bites out of there floral arrangements and boys swimming in the water, not a picture you can capture.
Woolly says – An incredible place and one that was worth all the hours of travel I had suffered thorough. We set off back for some food and a sit down, so that we were ready for putting the Ganges to bed, I wonder if they read it a story like Jo sometimes does for me!
Definitely no story but the special river had a whole raft of entertainment provided to send it to sleep.
Woolly says – Five young men dressed in orange were each stood on a small stage, which seemed to be the babysitters and very through they were as well. Having sung the water some songs and had everyone clapping along, they then took flowers and spices down to the banks to sprinkle over, I was mesmerised watching and had failed to see that Jo and Zoe were down with them placing their own flowers and candles into the water which looked pretty cool.
A lady had offered them to us and pointed us to the Ganges to join the other six people already there, it was a pretty special moment being one of the chosen ones.
Woolly says – I was chosen years ago! Having floated lots of items out into the depths the gentleman returned to their stages and set about signing again before waving fire around their heads, something Jo says I am never to do, maybe standing near water allows this to happen! Having sang some more and waved some peacock feathers around whilst ringing a hand bell each, it seemed as though bedtime was in sight when someone started singing again and the crowds waved their arms, paws in my case, and some more fire was waved. The Ganges must be very special because Jo never lets me have this much fun at bedtime, I think I might have to have words! After another clapping song and the men in orange waved some dusters around and started to throw petals over everyone, it was a bit like being at a wedding but without the cake. After another song and some chanting the men climbed down and it appeared the river was ready to sleep. The smell of incense was strong and as the girls received more Bindi marks we sat and enjoyed the quieting evening, what a place and what a day, I’m not sure anything will be as special as today has been, thank you Ganges.