"Death is certain to the one who is born and birth is certain to the one who dies." - Varanasi, March 19
From the Bhagavad Gita
The last half of this day was one my top travel experiences ever.
I am grateful to be fully present in this world, to be in this particular place, and to have seen and felt what I did today.
I started in a rickshaw, with Papou as my driver. For twenty five minutes, he guided me closer and closer to the river. The crush of people was what I thought all of India would feel like, and what I longed for - the horns, the bodies pressed together, the men on motorcycles with entire families perched behind him, the cows, the shops, the faithful making their way slowly towards the river.
The River Ganges.
Varanasi (also known as Banaras or Benares, and to the faithful as Kashi) is one of the oldest living cities in the world. It has sustained religious life here continuously since the sixth century BC. The Ganges stretches alongside, with long flights of stairs, or ghats, leading directly into the water. This is the center of the Hindu universe, and you can feel it. People come here specifically to die, because their souls will attain instant moksha, or enlightenment.
The rickshaw can only take you so far. You must make your way on foot to the river. Everyone jostles for a good seat on the steps, as the priests prepare their platforms for Aarti. This is the waving of lights before the deities, showing humility and gratitude. It symbolizes the five elements: air (akash), wind (vayu), fire (agni), water (jal), and earth (pruthvi). Priests perform the ritual on the ghats every single night.
The energy of the people, the chanting, the lights, the smoke, seeing the river for the first time...it was all too much for me. The unexpected emotional impact of being in that place, feeling the centuries of tradition and devotion...I was overcome, and the tears flowed freely.
We loaded into a boat so we could see the river and the ghats after the sun sent down. A woman sold us little foil dishes, in which there were flowers and a candle. The candle is lit, you make a wish or a prayer and set it onto the Ganges. It is so beautiful and moving to see these little pots of wishes floating along with the current.
We floated quietly and respectfully past the crematorium ghat, where eleven fires were burning. Where eleven people were being cremated. Varanasi is a city of death, but in the terrible way that Westerners think of it. It is not a depressing city or an inherently sad place.
Madan talked about how for Hindus, death is just another life event. Nobody escapes it and nobody knows what will happen next. It isn't the end of anything, but part of the continuum. It is reassuring and novel all at the same time.
We sat and watched the ceremony, the boats gently rocking on the river. Towards the end of the ritual, the videographer got up and headed towards shore to catch the action on the ghat. I told the guide that I was going too, and I walked across boats towards the staircases. The boats were so packed in that it was easy to do. I reached the ghats just as the priests were concluding, and got some wonderful pictures. I was ecstatic.
After the ceremony, people come and wave their hands or scarves through the fires that are left burning, and brush their hands over their heads. It was magical to watch. This purifies them, and is how they participate in the ritual in this big setting.
One of the best parts of takes photographs is that it is way to connect with people. Although it can become a barrier if all they see are cameras. I have to judge when the time is right to be respectful and when it is a good time to shoot. The people here just go about their business and don't seem to mind the cameras so much - in fact, they seem to enjoy the attention and the interaction that comes from it. These people are immersed in prayer, in performing their rituals, and instead of getting angry when you snap, they thank you. It is so welcoming and patient and accepting and gracious. It is also humbling and a lesson in how to live.
We walked back to the rickshaw in a mass of people, squeezed together, with complete chaos and noise and horns. There was a group of very small women who absorbed me as they walked past, one grabbed my hand. Another asked my name and introduced herself, more rubbed my back in a motherly and affectionate way, smiling and laughing and taking note of the tall white lady. Again, I could have rested my elbows on their shoulders. Then they moved past, and all the noise roared back in. The whole experience was so stimulating, and after that emotional ritual on the river, I was a giant raw nerve. I could not stop grinning, I was sweating and excited and hyper alert - kind of what I imagine being at a rave would feel like. If a rave consisted of small, elderly, barefoot Indian women in saris who like to hold hands.
Again, one of the bests travel days ever. Namaste, Varanasi!
The last half of this day was one my top travel experiences ever.
I am grateful to be fully present in this world, to be in this particular place, and to have seen and felt what I did today.
I started in a rickshaw, with Papou as my driver. For twenty five minutes, he guided me closer and closer to the river. The crush of people was what I thought all of India would feel like, and what I longed for - the horns, the bodies pressed together, the men on motorcycles with entire families perched behind him, the cows, the shops, the faithful making their way slowly towards the river.
The River Ganges.
Varanasi (also known as Banaras or Benares, and to the faithful as Kashi) is one of the oldest living cities in the world. It has sustained religious life here continuously since the sixth century BC. The Ganges stretches alongside, with long flights of stairs, or ghats, leading directly into the water. This is the center of the Hindu universe, and you can feel it. People come here specifically to die, because their souls will attain instant moksha, or enlightenment.
The rickshaw can only take you so far. You must make your way on foot to the river. Everyone jostles for a good seat on the steps, as the priests prepare their platforms for Aarti. This is the waving of lights before the deities, showing humility and gratitude. It symbolizes the five elements: air (akash), wind (vayu), fire (agni), water (jal), and earth (pruthvi). Priests perform the ritual on the ghats every single night.
The energy of the people, the chanting, the lights, the smoke, seeing the river for the first time...it was all too much for me. The unexpected emotional impact of being in that place, feeling the centuries of tradition and devotion...I was overcome, and the tears flowed freely.
We loaded into a boat so we could see the river and the ghats after the sun sent down. A woman sold us little foil dishes, in which there were flowers and a candle. The candle is lit, you make a wish or a prayer and set it onto the Ganges. It is so beautiful and moving to see these little pots of wishes floating along with the current.
We floated quietly and respectfully past the crematorium ghat, where eleven fires were burning. Where eleven people were being cremated. Varanasi is a city of death, but in the terrible way that Westerners think of it. It is not a depressing city or an inherently sad place.
Madan talked about how for Hindus, death is just another life event. Nobody escapes it and nobody knows what will happen next. It isn't the end of anything, but part of the continuum. It is reassuring and novel all at the same time.
We sat and watched the ceremony, the boats gently rocking on the river. Towards the end of the ritual, the videographer got up and headed towards shore to catch the action on the ghat. I told the guide that I was going too, and I walked across boats towards the staircases. The boats were so packed in that it was easy to do. I reached the ghats just as the priests were concluding, and got some wonderful pictures. I was ecstatic.
After the ceremony, people come and wave their hands or scarves through the fires that are left burning, and brush their hands over their heads. It was magical to watch. This purifies them, and is how they participate in the ritual in this big setting.
One of the best parts of takes photographs is that it is way to connect with people. Although it can become a barrier if all they see are cameras. I have to judge when the time is right to be respectful and when it is a good time to shoot. The people here just go about their business and don't seem to mind the cameras so much - in fact, they seem to enjoy the attention and the interaction that comes from it. These people are immersed in prayer, in performing their rituals, and instead of getting angry when you snap, they thank you. It is so welcoming and patient and accepting and gracious. It is also humbling and a lesson in how to live.
We walked back to the rickshaw in a mass of people, squeezed together, with complete chaos and noise and horns. There was a group of very small women who absorbed me as they walked past, one grabbed my hand. Another asked my name and introduced herself, more rubbed my back in a motherly and affectionate way, smiling and laughing and taking note of the tall white lady. Again, I could have rested my elbows on their shoulders. Then they moved past, and all the noise roared back in. The whole experience was so stimulating, and after that emotional ritual on the river, I was a giant raw nerve. I could not stop grinning, I was sweating and excited and hyper alert - kind of what I imagine being at a rave would feel like. If a rave consisted of small, elderly, barefoot Indian women in saris who like to hold hands.
Again, one of the bests travel days ever. Namaste, Varanasi!
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