In The Lap Of The Ghats 4

Varanasi

You know, India is impossible to easily define, because it's so many things.

You could see a whole bunch of pics from different parts of this huge country and you'd have no indication whatsoever that they were taken in India.

But there is a quintessential India in many people's minds, and that's the India that you find in the Hindu heartland of Uttar Pradesh, especially in the most sacred city on the planet for Hindus, Varanasi.

This city is one of the world's oldest continuously inhabited cities. Lying on the banks of the sacred Ganges River, it's one of the most important pilgrimage sites in the country, is the most auspicious place in the country to die, and it's an important centre for religious and cultural education, as well as music.

Varanasi is known for its many ghats, large areas of steps and platforms leading down to the river, where pilgrims and priests have been bathing and performing rituals alongside the holy river for millennia.

These days Varanasi has also become a hotspot for Indian tourism, with more than 50 million of the buggers visiting the city this year alone, so far.

And to add a huge serve of spice into the mix, when we were there it coincided with the opening of the massive new Ram temple in Ayodhya, only a couple of hundred clicks up the road, which was visited by a half a million pilgrims just on the first day, and was massively promoted by the government as an important national event.

The temple dedication, which PM Modi used as the perfect platform to promote himself as the new Father of Hinduism, was broadcast all over India, including on massive screens set up in major intersections in Varanasi. Massive audio speakers were set up all over the city, ejaculating religious songs and other music ad nauseum, at earbusting volume levels. It really was next level intense.

No one mentioned that the new temple was built on the site of a historic razed mosque.

So besides all the tourists, for the first couple of days we were there the streets of the holy city were also packed with tens of thousands of zealous (and sometimes over-zealous) orange-decked pilgrims.

They marched around carrying their orange flags, fervently chanting Jay Sri Ram! all over the shop. They were pretty much all men too, and you can probably imagine the vibe, when you get gangs of young excitable men racing up and down streets, proud of their new temple, their Hindu nationalist Prime Minister, and their great country of India, the greatest land on earth, blah blah blah.

You know, the in-yer-face nationalistic Australia Day-type vibe that happens every Invasion Day.

Unfortunately, nationalism appears to be rising everywhere.

Orange madness. I thought there was enough of that in the US.

Street scenes in the newer part of the city.

Astroturf dinosaur. Yeah really.

Despite the long Hindu history of Varanasi, it was, like most of the whole of the Indian subcontinent, under Muslim rule for long periods. The beautiful Islamic-influenced architecture of some of Varanasi's ancient buildings is one legacy of this.

About to dive into the sardine can of the old city.

Phil had booked us an amazing old-school guest house close to the main ghat in the old city, Dashashwamedh Ghat.

The view from our rooftop. There were boats everywhere, it was madness. Every single Indian tourist seemed to be taking a boat ride.

The room Phil and I shared, complete with monkey-proof screens, which was handy, because there were klapetomaniacs everywhere.

Phil had spent time with Vijay in Jabalpur, and was due to meet up with us again late on the first night of our arrival in Varanasi, so Frankie, Ajuna and I went out to eat, and to check out the city for the night.

The whole city was pumping, the main roads and the laneways packed to the nines with Indian tourists, pilgrims, and Ram-Bam-Thank-You-Ma'am devotees.

Bustling laneways, full to the brim with hassly touts. As were the bigger streets.

Old school hair salon

Building behind Manmahal Ghat

Never seen a black Coke sign before

Steamy pleasure.

The Burning Ghats

Wandering down a small laneway later that night, we saw our first dead body swish past.

A small group of men was holding it above their heads on a small bamboo stretcher, the body wrapped in white cloth, and draped in shiny colourful fabrics, garnished with marigolds. The men were chanting Jay Sri Ram loudly over and over, as they came past quickly.

And it wasn't long before the next body passed.

And then the next.

We realised where we were, and followed the small processions to what is known as the "burning ghat," Manikarnika Ghat, the main place where bodies are cremated in this holy city.

Hindus believe that if they die and are cremated in Varanasi, and their ashes scattered in the sacred Ganga there, they will attain moksha, or enlightenment, and be free of the endless cycle of life and death. Forever.

So many many people come here to die.

We went to the ghats, and stood watching for a long time, forced into silence by the gravity of what we were witnessing. Pretty much everyone was silent.

Endless piles of wood, for the burning rituals.

It's hard to describe the impact of watching human bodies burn right before your eyes. Just a day or two before, these burning corpses were actually living and breathing people.

It takes time to take it all in.

It makes you realise the completely fickle nature of our lives, and how important it is to enjoy and appreciate them while they're here.

Live life to the fullest, and appreciate and love those around us, because before we know it, they'll be gone.

And so will we.

Before the bodies are laid on the funeral pyres, they're taken down to the Ganga and dipped in the sacred water. The colourful fabrics are removed, and the bodies, draped in white cloth, are placed on the wooden pyres, covered with more wood, and the cremation fire lit. Ghee is dripped all over the fire, to aid the burning. If the family has money, sandalwood is burnt.

Sometimes the white cloth flares up independently, and parts of the body become visible as they burn. These moments were the most powerful. Seeing bodies actually going up in smoke is an unforgettable reminder of just what we are, and exactly where we're going.

Years ago it was forbidden to take any pictures whatsoever at the burning ghats, but these days everyone seems to do it. I've put in a few pictures here, but, out of respect for the families, you can't see any human remains.

In total juxtaposition, there was a sound and light show going on close to the burning ghats, with colourful imagery and loud commentary celebrating the greatness of Hinduism.

It seemed so meaningless after what we'd just experienced at the burning ghat.

Eventually we walked along the ghats back home.

Later in our stay we went back to Manikarnika Ghat, and to another cremation ghat, with Phil.

He arrived late on our first night, and we had a few more days to dive into the chaos and the spectacle of this crazy, sacred, and wildly interesting city.

We didn't know it at the time, but it turns out that the place was gonna prove to be a complete knockout for the lot of us❤️

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