Profile
Blog
Photos
Videos
After nearly being scammed by some local con artist insistent my train was delayed by 9 hours I eventually boarded my 14 hour overnight train to Varanasi. From therein it was pretty uneventful, I exchanged pleasantries with a few people, annoyed a small family because I refused to swap seats so they could all sit together. No way was I moving 2 carriages away so some spoilt 18 year old could sit with his mummy and daddy! Make a prayer/begging gesture at me all you like love I ain't moving!
I napped as best I could and as the sun came up so did my destination. I couldn't remember much about the hostel I had booked, I didn't research too much as I was only staying one night. Upon my arrival I was pleasantly surprised. Fresh, clean, new and perfectly tailored for backpackers with comfy seating areas, large flat screen tv's, beautiful artworks adorned the walls and lots of positive messages from previous visitors. An oasis full of friendly people and a wonderful host called Maria, originating from England but now residing at the Hostel as a volunteer. I ditched my things in my shared room, careful not to wake the lazy lot still dozing and went for the free breakfast. I met Gabriel, a well travelled guy working as a teacher in Chicago and we decided to head to The Kashi Vishwanath Temple. We wandered the manic streets for over an hour in search of our destination. Varanasi is the most incredibly intense atmosphere I have experienced so far in India. People frantically scurrying around, some pilgrims, some shopkeepers, travellers, rickshaw drivers. All going at 100mph what ever their cause. Eventually we found it down a narrow rabbit warren of a side street.
The Kashi Vishwanath Temple is considered extremely significant within Hinduism and it's Lord Shiva devotees, and is one of the 12 Jyotirlinga temples. Hundreds of flowing cues of pilgrims lined the narrow lanes awaiting their turn to express thanks through offerings of gifts and money. It made it virtually impossible for us to navigate around and get a feel for this extremely holy place, the armed guard didn't make us feel particularly welcome. Foreigners are not allowed into the central part of the golden temple which was a little disappointing but to be respected.
After managing to escape what seemed like a scene from 'Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom' Gabriel took me down to the Ghats. A stretch of over 100 individual sectors of steps leading down toward the mighty river Ganges. Most are bathing ghats, while others are used as cremation sites. I headed straight for the intrigue of Manikarnika, the burning ghat!
Grieving family members carried bodies wrapped in colourful silk clothes through the narrow lanes and down towards The Ganga, dip the newly deceased body once more into the river before laying it on top of the piled logs and set it on fire. Little is left to the imagination. The sound of flesh crackling and spitting in the flames is surreal and the extremely public nature of the spectacle make it hard to comprehend. We retired back to Kerala cafe, next to our Hostel and had food.
After a good shower I met a few other people at the hostel, namely Callum from Scotland who joined me Maria and Gabriel as we ventured out once again. Just as the sun started to dip we stepped carefully down the incredibly overcrowded and filthy streets, negotiating huge pot holes, rickshaws, bicycles, cows and their excrement, rotting fruit and veg, children begging, the list is endless! We headed to The Dashashwamedh Ghat, where priests perform the daily "Agni Pooja". Whilst I remain incredibly sceptical of all religions, especially those that revolve so commonly around a need for financial offerings at every opportunity it was an interesting atmospheric event and it was certainly worth the journey here.
The priests in their fine tailored bright orange robes go through a series of 'shlokas' with the crowed often joining in the chants. An orchestra of high pitched bells ring out and people clap along. I would estimate100+ boats swamped with people grace the banks of the Ganges all prying for that special view or perfect photo. We mingled with the locals and embraced the ambience.
After a while Maria headed back shortly followed by Gabriel who was a little tired and unwell. Myself and Callum ventured further towards the burning ghat I visited previously. Maybe I have an infatuation with the dead? We stopped for a picture with a meditating Baba (a Hindu holy man also known as a Sadhu). Of course we have to "make a donation" - I appreciate even the holy have to eat but all this donation malarkey makes a mockery of the epicentre of Hinduism. I can't help feeling these so called holy men are nothing more than opportunist hitching on the back of a 3000 years old tradition to take advantage of the weak minded, uneducated, needy and last but not least....tourists. But I keep my thoughts to myself and enjoy the complete lunacy of the whole debacle. I would relate it to a 7 year old at Christmas. You are of the age to know that Santa is not real, you know your parents wrap the presents, and you know that there is no such thing as a naughty list. But, you still leave a minced pie, carrot, glass of milk and go to bed early just incase that story that for every ounce of sense in your body must be a load of rubbish, turns out to be correct! That's how I feel about the pilgrims of Varanasi, and religion on the whole for that matter. Yet I still enjoyed it!
We got right up close to the cremations this time, an elderly guy sat on a step right in front of us beside himself with grief as the smoke scratched at our eyes and filled our lungs. We retreated slightly as to not antagonise him aware we are inhaling burning particles of human flesh! Being pestered by aggressive locals who keep insisting on "no photos" we shuffled around and tried to ditch them. I am well aware of their scams. They firstly make you feel bad for being there, then they intimidate you and say you have to make a donation for the wood out of respect for the families you have offended by being there. A disgusting scam that knows no boundaries but we are wise and quickly give them the "pull the other one pal, do I look stupid". I rarely find myself intimidated by the scam artists of India, perhaps because of their slender malnourished figures. I have a tactic; start off polite and nice, if they get pushy then show them some aggression, they soon disappear into the shadows and await their next victim. It is a part of Indian I was prepared for, and have pretty much accepted, anywhere that has levels of poverty as rife as India will always have somebody trying to make a living through dishonesty. Ironically in England it tends to be those at the top who indulge in dishonesty, tax avoidance schemes, MP's expenses scandals, what's the difference other than these people do it out of necessity rather than greed?
As mad as Varanasi is and as disillusioned by elements of the culture I feel the need to stay longer. I return to the hostel, cancel tomorrow's train and rebook for a week later. I have met good people here, there are fascinations around every corner, my hotel is by far the best I have encountered, why would I leave?
I'm looking forward to exploring further, examining the Sadhu's more closely, taking more photos of this incredibly visual place and taking a little time to let it all sink in. I like Varanasi, it's like nothing else I have ever experienced. There are no boundaries in this city consumed by religion.
Perry's tip of the day: if a tout or scammer is getting on your nerves just threaten to kick s*** out of the scrawny f***er! ....your very welcome
- comments
Aish Sounds amazing!! Keep taking lots of photos and making this blog, will be a wonderful memory for you xx