VARANASI
From the land of Radha-Krishna, the Land of Love, I arrive at the ancient city of Varanasi.
Often referred to as Benares, Varanasi is the oldest living city in the world. These few lines by Mark Twain say it all: "Benaras is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend and looks twice as old as all of them put together". Hindus believe that one who is graced to die on the land of Varanasi would attain salvation and freedom from the cycle of birth and re-birth. Shiva is the predominate worshiped God. Although Hinduism may appear to have many gods, this is only the outer appearance. The many gods are actually manifestations, qualities or characteristics of the One God.
Arriving here was not without the usual stress. Add to this the fact that I had gotten sick and was hardly functioning.
I took a ‘tuk tuk’ to the Mathura train station. (Those much dreaded two words, ‘train station’.) I ask my usual questions and get my usual answers, so I pick a place to wait next to the tracks and hope for the best. I put my pack down on the cement next to the tracks and laid my head upon it. I watched each train come with its number on the front of the engine. I knew I was on the right platform as the man at the station told me platform one, but of course where to get on the correct car of the train was as usual, unknown. After two hours of laying my head on my backpack and watching trains come and go I became concerned enough to start asking questions once again. My time was limited as after I got to Agra I had to catch the 9:50 pm train to Varanasi. I ask an older man if he knew anything about the train I needed, as I pointed to my ticket. ‘No English, no English,’ comes the reply. I put my hands over my eyes and face trying to get a grip on things, as I was feeling quite bad. While my hands were over my eyes I heard a voice say, ‘
Can I help you?” I lowered my hands to find that the old man had left and in his place stood a young man. I was so grateful to hear English I immediately asked about my train. He looks at my ticket and then speaks to someone. He turns back to me and says, “ Train left.” How is this possible! I watched every train come and go and never saw it. I simply had to be on that train because I have to catch a connecting train in Agra and I am running late now. What am I going to do? I am panicked. This may seem silly to some because if you miss a train you just get a hotel room and make reservations for another day. Unfortunately doing that would make it a real burden on my limited budget. Buying another ticket for this train would not be all the trouble for I would also have to rebook my connecting train in Agra and possibly hotel room there. I would also have to get ahold of the place I would be staying in Varanasi and tell them I would be late. I should mention here that trains fill up very fast. I made my reservations 2 months in advance! That is how fast they book up. Of course this is what the young man advised. He told me to go in and buy another ticket, as another train would be coming through today going to Agra. The problem here is that it would make me too late to catch my connecting train. Next thing the young man said to me was, “No time for buy another ticket, train will be here in 5 minutes”. What!!! But the young man has good news for me. He tells me to just get on the train general class and when they come by for my ticket show them the ticket that I have and explain that I missed the last train and would like to purchase a ticket now…no worry he tells me general class will be cheap.
The train comes but I don’t know where to get on, so I just get on the train not caring anymore if I am in the right place or not. I just want on. Entering the car I find it to be almost empty. There are just a few men. I was expecting having to deal with the multitudes and this is a relief as I am forcing myself at this point to function.
The man comes by to take my ticket. As I had my ticket and passport to him I start trying to explain everything to him. He says a few things in Hindi and I just go back to explaining in English. The man just looks at me, hands me back my ticket and passport and walks away! Amazing. I am so thankful to just be able to put my pack down, sit down and just be still, if only for a short time. The group of men I was sitting with was so kind as to let me know when it was my stop to get off. What a huge relief… Times like this I cannot express how grateful I am.
After getting off the train at Agra Cant station, I catch a taxi to Agra fort station. I would normally not have taken a taxi but I was more or less guided in that direction. Add to this the way I was feeling and my anxiety about missing the next train it just seemed to be the correct thing to do at this point.
Upon arrival at Agra fort station as I was getting out of the taxi my driver and another man that was with him introduced me to an old man that for 100 rupees would take me to a waiting area where I could sit until he came to get me to bring me to my train when it was time. Where have these people been in the past? How much anxiety this would have relieved. Of course this would not have happened if it had not been for the men in the taxi introducing me and translating all the info. This was exactly what I needed at the right moment. I do not know how I would have done this on my own. For sure I would have missed the train, as I will explain shortly.
The old man takes me to a room where I will wait for the train to come. I sit, it seems for a long time. The train is running late. All the worry about missing it had not been necessary. Much better to wait than be late. Then the old man comes and tells me it is time. We walk to the platform where my train will arrive. As usual there is a lot of Hindi being spoken over the speakers and all of a sudden the old man jumps up and begins walking away from me quickly. I assume I am to follow so I get up and start to follow him. He turns around and waves at me as if I am to stay and sit. So I do. Then again it seems I am to follow and again he waves at me and I sit down again. Finally some people that are sitting next to me, tell me with excited hand gestures to get up and go now! So not knowing what is going on, I jump up and begin to follow him. He is walking really fast and it is very difficult to keep up with this thin old man. As it turned out they had switched platforms for my train. We had to high tail it up stairs and on to another platform. I fell on the stairs, exhausted. I just could not keep up. He grabbed my pack and moved ahead fast. Relieved of my extra weight I followed in tow. He took me onto the train and even to my berth where I happily paid him the 100ruppees. The truth is: I would never have made that train if it were not for him and the one who orchestrated the whole event. A 12-hour train ride will turn out to be 17 hours. I just tried to rest and hacked and coughed all to the color of green. The gentleman I shared the berth with was an older man with long white beard, a small man in build, with a white turban and a dark brow cloth covering the top of this turban and hanging loosely around his face and neck. He was reading from a very old book whose weaved binding was worn thin. The pages were of a tarnished antique look. I would have loved to talk with him, for sure this man was a scholar and I feel I missed a chance for a very enlightening conversation. As we were getting off the train I helped him with one of his bags and looked at me in the eyes with much appreciation and humbleness and said something in Hindi, which of course I did not understand.
Once off the train I just looked for the exit and my pick-up. I am really glad that someone will be picking me up. I struggled up more stairs. I kept repeating ‘pick up’ to all guys who were trying to sell me a ride in taxis, tuk tuks, and rickshaws. Making it outside I looked around and there was no one with a sign with my name on it. One of the red coated porter guys hung on to me from inside despite my repellant words of ‘pick-up. I was just walking with my bag looking for my pick-up. Then he got my attention with,’ You should go to the tourist info office’, pointing to a tiny office in the corner. He could tell I was looking for someone and was not finding them. I put down my bag in the little office and waited my turn. Quite soon I was giving the man at the desk the phone number of the place where I would be staying. He called the guest- house and spoke to the person on the other end of the line. He hung up and told me that they were already at the station and would come for me at the tourist office. Not long after a man came to get me. Once again a hassle was removed from my path. But it wasn’t over. I picked up my pack and followed the man for quite a distance to his tuk tuk. Once on the tuk tuk it was smooth riding, much different than in Vrindavan where you were pounded so hard my teeth chattered. The man parked the tuk tuk on a street side and I got out with my bag and followed the man down the street and then another street. To my alarming surprise we were not at the guesthouse. Not by a long shot. The walk would be quite a ways yet. We meandered down one street then another, then another. I was lagging way behind yet trying to keep my eyes on him. We weaved our way in and out through the throngs of people. I was giving it my best to keep up. Fear of loosing the man in the crowd was up most in my mind. Finally the man realized what a hard time I was having and he grabbed my bag as we started a crooked path uphill. We were in a maze of tiny alleyways bursting at its seams with people. Finally turning a corner in the tiny narrow alley, I heard my name being called. I was finally there. Greetings were made and some small talk. My hosts could see that I was sick and within an hour a doctor was called to come and see me. Remembering this I am still so grateful to these people for helping me in this time of need.
A very refined intelligent looking man came to examine me. I was led to a near by room and upon the bed of my hosts, as my room was upstairs, this being more convenient. He spoke with me through translation by my hosts. The doctor wrote out 4 prescriptions for me. The 5th one, my hosts already had to fix for me. It was such a wonderful feeling to be in a sanctuary, a haven of comfort for a very weary soul. I had a bad case of bronchitis and infection. My belongings were taken up to my room and I followed. At last I could rest across a much-needed bed. My host went out to get my prescriptions and latter arrived to tell me how to take them and that he would soon go out for the last prescription, as the other places he had gone were out of it. He followed up on making sure I had taken everything just right. He was very kind and caring. He did all of this for me as he would do for anyone else, simply because the need was there. I was humbled and very grateful for his graciousness. I have found that there are many, many times in India that this wonderful feeling would visit me.
There are three sticks by the front door of the guesthouse. (This door is open from morning till about 11pm.) One stick is quite long and made of bamboo. This is the cow stick. The next is perhaps 2/3 as long as the cow stick and is a bunch of switches bound together. This is the dog stick. The last of the three is heavy being about two feet long and 2/2 . This is the monkey stick. These sticks are kept by the doorway and are for the purpose of using on the appropriate animal when being a nuisance in the alley way or trying to come in the front door.
While talking by the door we all heard a loud sound. We looked up to see a cow running past the door, followed by a man in tow holding onto the cows tail! It was hilarious as we all broke into laughter, as the man’s feet were way before his head as he was leaning back trying to stop the cow. I would love to have taken a picture of this but like so many times the shot will only be engraved upon the mind, as things happen too fast.
Standing in the doorway I was petting the cows as they poked their heads inside. The cows are like dogs, once you stop petting them they want more. Today a white cow stopped to look in and once again I wish I had my camera. A beautiful pure white cow was wearing a wreath of beautiful brightly colored flowers in red, yellow and orange. Around his horns he wore ribbons and flowers.
I will not leave the guesthouse for three days, until I am feeling better. But this does not keep me from experiencing Varanasi, for Varanasi is coming to me as I sit in the doorway watching it pass before me like a movie.
I engage in fun conversation with my hosts Monu, Indue and her husband. I met tourists and other Indian people. I am introduced to the guys next door. They work at a little shop selling cloth and clothes. They also have a tailor on site, the sewing machine in the front window.
I like to walk up to the roof- top in the evenings. I was surprised to see what I first thought were birds, or bats, but as I watched I realized that there were hundreds of tiny kites without tails, which would bend in the middle a little, and causing them to flutter. It was really something, everywhere as far as I could see above the roof- top for this 5,000-year-old city, were these tiny fluttering kites against yellow-orange sky of the setting sun. This happens almost every evening.
Coming down from the rooftop one day, while I am recuperating, I go to my room only to find a monkey in there. I hollered at him and he turned to run to the doorway as I was telling him to get out. He certainly did not like it very much but he did leave, rather pissed off. That’s why you have to keep your door closed anywhere where there are monkeys because they will come in and steal whatever they want.
Met a girl from Japan, Macke today and we exchanged conversation. I will visit with her a few times before she leaves Varanasi.
A word of advice if you are ever in Varanasi, do not wear shoes that have the grooves in the soles. Make sure the soles have smooth surface. The reason for this is that there are many animals on the alleyways, therefore lots of shit. If you step in it, or I should say ‘when’ you step in it is you are wearing shoes other than smooth bottom, the shit will go into every crease and it is no fun getting it out. How do I know… experience of course.
On the fourth day I venture out of the guesthouse for the first time. The alleyways here are like a maze. Some are so narrow I cannot stand and stretch my arms out to the sides without touching the buildings on each side. The whole place is like this. It can be very easy to get lost. There are no names for the alleyways either. In the dark it is a real problem as everything is pitch black. Cows lie down to sleep blocking the path and you have to turn around and figure another route to get to where you want to go. A Flashlight is a must have, especially if you want to see where you are stepping.
I was very careful, marking spots to remember where to turn so I could find my way back. I came upon the market area, with their brightly colored items on both sides of the alleyways. Looked like Disney land. Each merchant trying to lure you in to buy his wears. To walk down the streets sometimes you can walk side by side with someone and other times you must walk in single file as the alleyways become to narrow. Then just to mess with your mind cows are there….How? Where do all these cows come from? The alleys are stone, with stone buildings on each side. There is no grass or anything growing anywhere. They must just reproduce and spend their life walking through the alleys. Food is very difficult for them. They feed off the trash if they are lucky. It is very sad to see them eating plastic bags
A word of advice if you are ever in Varanasi, do not wear shoes that have the grooves in the soles. Make sure the soles have smooth surface. The reason for this is that there are many animals on the alleyways, therefore lots of shit. If you step in it, or I should say ‘when’ you step in it is you are wearing shoes other than smooth bottom, the shit will go into every crease and it is no fun getting it out. How do I know… experience of course.
One day I found myself on the soapbox. I was speaking with one of the military police. We got into a conversation about Indian people versus American people. Before I had realized it a whole group of people had gathered around us. I was explaining how the Indian people as a whole seem more balanced between their heads and hearts. It is all too common for the American to think of himself first and latter wonder why the world it the way it is. The Indian people just seem basically thankful and more at peace.
I met the guy staying in the room next to mine. His name is Zak and is very interesting to talk with. He told me a funny story about getting back to the guesthouse a few nights ago after dark. Said he stepped in cow shit twice and came upon a cow lying in the alley. He had said he just stood there for a moment, rather quizzically thinking,’ this is big cow’! If it were a dog He could step over him but this cow was just too big to step over so he had to go back and figure out another way through the maze.
Zak has been traveling throughout Asia of nine and a half years. He teaches English and has taught in China, Korea and Japan to name a few. His travels have taken him to far places. He has used every mode of transportation available. Jumping on ships for some longer journeys. His latest venture, this one will take him a total of one and a half years. He will then begin teaching once again in another country before setting out for new horizons.
Found a nice little Japanese restaurant. I had vegetable tempura with a great sauce. Still oily though as this is a common thing here in India.
Sometimes I wonder if there are lost tourists that have been wondering the maze for years!
I went next door to the tailor to exchange money and ended up drinking Chi tea with them and chatting while sitting on floor. It seems that there has been some trouble with counterfeit bills lately and has caused a hassle in trading. A twenty-dollar bill yields you a lower exchange rate. Hundred dollar bills will give you the best exchange rate. I will spend a lot of time here at the tailors/store visiting, as they have become like family, as of course, my hosts next door.
Leaving my friends at the store I wind my way through the alleys toward the market place of the old city. I am expanding my horizons. This place is something that is not even seen in the movies or in pictures as no cameras are allowed. I would suppose however, that someone at some time must have snapped some shots of it.
At the market place I found a great place for bangles. I entered the store not knowing what adventure this will end up leading me on. Before purchasing I asked the man if they shipped and he said yes. After spending time picking through what seemed like thousands of bangles, I paid for them. Now I find out they do NOT ship. I am told where the post office is so that I may ship them myself.
The venture got me out past the arches onto the main street. Now the street is wide, like one would expect in a city. Without much trouble I find the post office. The man behind the counter told me to wait just five minutes that the man who does the packaging will come soon. Well, I know what five minutes means in Indian time so I pull out my book and get comfortable. Later a man approaches me and asks what I have in the box. ‘Bangles’, I tell him. “Is that all you have?” he asks. I tell him it is and he said, “Come”. So I follow him and his small son out of the post office and up to a motorcycle. He puts the boy in front of him on the cycle and tells me to 'sit’. I looked at him and said, “Are you kidding?” He simply responded, “Sit”. So I got on the back and off we went, motoring through the tiny alleyways. (There is no type of transportation on these narrow alleyways whether motor driven, or human driven, but I will see a couple of cycles during my stay.) My driver avoids dogs, children, cows and whatever else may be in the way. At times it was so narrow the sides of my pants brushed the sides of the buildings. I literally just closed my eyes, but feeling dizzy I had to open them again, much to my dismay. There we were roaring away, a box of bangles and the Bhagavagita in one hand and holding on to the man with my other hand. I was surprised at how long the ride was. How could these alleys extend so far? These alleys are on the other side of the main road from where I am staying.
At his place we end up having a great conversation and in the end he asks if I understand Hindi, sadly I tell him I do not. If I did he was going to invite me to attend classes he was going to on the subject matter we had been discussing. He tells me he will hold on to my little box in case there is anything else I would like to add to it because it is a lot cheaper to send more than just what I had. He pointed out the direction back, and off I went. I was a bit apprehensive as I was a long way from the post office and he was sending me back a way that would lead me to the food market on the main street. From there he told me I would see the arches to the old city and would know my way from there.
I came across a man sitting on a round corner on a tiny spot selling his essence oils. His name is Beshue. We began talking and I sat down with crossed legs beside him as we talked for a long time. Sitting here would offer me a new perspective on this ancient city. I am able to witness the coming and going of people and animals within these very narrow alleys, in three different directions. We sit right at the edge of our side of the alley. Beshue was alert to place his arm across my knees in protection when a bull would pass my only a couple inches in front of me. We watch and laugh at monkeys running, chasing and leaping from the rooftops.
We get into a discussion of the meaning of some Sanskrit words. I was there for quite a while. I remember mostly the undying heart which I thought was very beautiful.
I bid my new friend farewell. I will come back to visit with him more times while I am in Varanasi .I continued my journey through the maze toward the food market. I go to Megu’s, a Japanese restaurant for my daily meal. I eat only one meal a day. I got use to it very quickly. My mornings or usually chai or coffee. I find that I can pick up oranges or bananas when I see them and bring them to my room for late night eating. I also find various other things in due time, such as cookies, crackers and the sort.
One day while on the main street a guy comes up to me trying to get me to go to one of his relatives store to purchase things. I am learning how to deal with these people. You do not even say, no, because that just gives them something to come back with. So as usual by now, I just keep walking, acting as if he did not even exist. After about 15 minutes I finally told him that if he wished to walk with me he must keep his mouth shut and not talk. He agreed, but within a few seconds he just had to speak so I motioned to him to zip it or else…This guy followed me around for about 45 minutes. Every time he started to speak I would turn and look at him and he would stop and say, ‘ sorry, sorry, no speak, no speak’. There would be no quieting this guy. I was getting irritated. This time asking where I was staying, if he could come there with me and I just stopped dead in my tracks screaming at him, to go, to get away, in Hindi. I was screaming so loud that my eyes were closed. When I opened them he was gone and I never saw him again. I was told latter that if you holler at one of these guys they will depart immediately because they are afraid it will draw the police and then they will get in trouble for hassling a tourist. Hmmmm…. so the rule for the millions of these sorts you will come across in India is first: do not give any eye contact…at all. Second is not to say a word…not one word. And if that fails and they are still hassling you, holler at them. I know this sounds terribly rude, at least it does to me and I would have never dreamed I could do such a thing. This was in the extreme and finally unnerved me. It did the trick though!
I begin my day by going to an aromatherapy home. It is the family of one of my friends next door to my guesthouse. We walk there and come to the front door we enter and walk through a long corridor, which opens into a large open space with a square center and railings around it. Keep in mind that this is inside the house. In the space are three cows. Yes, this is their home, but understand it is tile and absolutely spotlessly clean. Off to the side is a room, which is the Keeper of Natural Oils. A selection of oils was described, smelled and given their uses and effects. Spices were next. Of course, the masala was exciting to me. Masala for non-cooking and masala for cooking. A cup of masala chai with fresh milk was made for us. The milk came from the cows living in the center of the house. The tea used was darlingee. It was a wonderful experience of learning and sampling.
I awake early one morning to go on the sunrise boat cruise on the Ganga River. It was inspiring to see this ancient place from off shore. It was literally awesome. The boat was small rowed by one man. There were 4 of us total in the boat. Every morning you can see all the little boats out on the water.
I have wanted to get a tattoo while in India and decide that this is the place for it. I decide on the mantra: On Namah Shiva. One of my friends next door takes me to the guy that will do it. We come to a very tiny shop. As we stand just inside the entrance I get my tattoo. Danielle has come with us and she decides that a tattoo is just what she would like as a souvenir from India also. She gets a large Om on her wrist.
Next I was off for my walking adventure for the day. I meandered about till late and stopped to eat at a new place out of the old city on the main street. At the end of the meal the waiter started to take my Pepsi bottle away and I grabbed it saying I wasn’t finished. Taking the last swallow I noticed something went into my mouth that was not liquid. I picked it out of my mouth and it was a fly!! Oh yuck! I had to just control the mind so I would not get freaked out about it. Certainly the thought was worse than the actual event. Guess I should have let the waiter take the bottle when he started to…did he know something I did not!!
Back out onto the street a man in business attire came up to me and asked if I needed to change any money. I told him I did not have to at the moment, but perhaps in the future. I went to his office and got his card so I would remember where he was. Sitting across from him at his desk I had laid my little shopping bag on the desk. He asked me what I had been shopping for so I told him to take a look. He opened the bag to find a few plastic bangles, some sunscreen an a little plastic poke-man cup. He grinned a bit surprised (I guess tourists buy more expensive things) and curious at the cup. I told him I needed a larger cup because they only serve it in tiny clay cups that hold maybe 6 tablespoonfuls. Then the cup is thrown onto the street and smashed. There are literally thousands of these cups smashed on the streets everywhere I go in India. Since I liked chi so much he asked me if I would like him to get some for me. I asked him if it would be good chi and really hot. He said,’Yes', good like when man and woman have sex.” Uh-Oh!! I gave him money for the chi and he continued with, “Do you like sex?” I told him, yes with my husband. He asked what about not with your husband, and I said that I just wouldn’t. He went off for the chi and a Japanese girl and American guy came in. When the man came back he had to help them with a money exchange so I grabbed my tea in my new cup and headed for the door. Surprised at my exit he said, “ Aren’t you going to drink your chi here?” I told him no, that that was why I had bought this cup with a lid, and I was out of there! Creep.
Next I headed for the Ganga. Walking there among the Ghats and river gave me the feeling of space and freshness. A young Indian man latched onto me and kept talking. I just kept ignoring him. Finally his statement that the cremations at the burning Ghat were in process, sparked my interest. I decided that it would be the right time to go and witness the event. He followed me. Once again I have acquired a human, which has attached himself to me. How does one get rid of these people without being rude? I did not feel it appropriate to yell at him as he was not rude and had been with me only a short time. As he followed he said, “I’m no after money, just like to talk” (Right, I have heard that before.) He asked if I would mind if he went with me. Well, that was new for me, the politeness, and seemingly honesty of his manner. He actually asks if he could go with me instead of insistently following. I said ok, not energetically but with a matter of fact. Soon a friend of his joins us. The burning Ghats are where cremations have been held for thousands of years. A large area right next to the Ganga is full of bodies being burned. It is said that to die in Varanasi and be cremated here will insure you entrance to Heaven. People with money will make sure that the corpse of their loved one be transported to Varansi for cremation. We reached the burning Ghat and watched from the spectators’ area. Just a few moments later the young man said, “Come,” and we walked right into the center of this unusual event. The dirt ground covered with individual piles of burning wood with a corpse in the center. There are many burning heaps causing the entire area to be hot. Smoke rises from each cremation site filling the air with the smell of burning wood. No one is allowed in this area, especially non-Indians and women. The group of Indian men was really looking at me and I was not sure if I would soon be asked to leave. My Indian companion did speak with some of the men as they looked at me but I never asked what was being said. I was never asked to leave.
I knew I was experiencing something very few people get to witness. I looked up to the spectator area and saw an assortment of Indians and tourists watching intently at the event. This was certainly a sight my eyes have never seen before. One body is put on to a pile of banyan wood then covered with more wood. The fire is lit from the Shiva fire up the hill, which has never quit burning for 5-7 thousand years. There are people who manage and guard this fire at all times, making sure the embers are still red.
Each body takes 2 –2 ½ hours to be consumed by the fire and the rest of the bones that are left over are thrown into the Ganga. Usually these bones are the hip/pelvis and I believe the skull. There are a lot of burning piles with charred heads and legs sticking out. A man comes around with a long stick and pushes on the bones to keep them in the fire. While doing so a part of a leg falls off…. These bodies were being burned right close to the shore, which is for the lower class. Just up a ways was the middle class and highest up the hill the highest caste. I asked my companion why were the lower class burned the closest to the Ganga and the higher caste further away since the Ganga is so holy? It seems that the higher caste would be burned closer to the Holy Ganga. He tells me that the higher cast gets to be higher up. Then he realizes what I meant and laughed.
I bet in the summer time the men that do this job of pushing the bones back into the flame hope that there are not too many that die, as this is March and it is really hot. Pictures would have been awesome to take but no cameras are allowed. Understandably.
He takes me up the hill to the Shiva Fire. Just looking at it thinking of how long it has been burning and how long it will be burning is beyond anything my mind can wrap around. As I was thinking and feeling the holiness of this fire and trying to imprint it upon my mind, to somehow take a small part of it into my life, the young man reaches into the ash with his finger and turns and places the ash between my eyebrows. What could have been more perfect? I felt humbled and honored.
After a bit more walking, though appreciative for my guide I was ready to go my separate way. But my guides insisted I taste some snacks from the street. I was glad because they were quite good, but now I really must be on my way.
I was pretty close to Besheu (the man with the essential oils) so I went and sat with him for about an hour. Funny his little corner really is a round corner. As usual we sit and talk while being entertained by the passing of various animals and an array of people. I make sure to keep my feet tucked by sitting with crossed legs. Besheu has been sick with the black fever and some days are better for him than others. It is a long process to get better.
It is dark now as I say good-by to Besheu. The way back through the alleys was a great sight and one I enjoy remembering, wishing I had pictures of the incredible sight and ambiance that was created. The venders sit on a low platform off the ground with their wares around them and all have candles burning for light. All along the narrow alleyways in the pitch-blackness are candles everywhere, casting their golden glow of light. It was a mystical and exotic sight to see. I continue till I am out of the maze and cross the main road, back through the arches and into another maze, I return to my guesthouse, satisfied that my day has been full and inspiring.
While at the food market one day I come upon a very interesting looking man. Somehow we begin to speak. He has a cobra. I decide that I would love to take a picture of the man but my camara is out of batteries. I ask him if he would still be around in the evening time and would he mind if I came back to take his picture. He agreed that he would be there and that I could take his picture. That evening I went back to see him and took a few pictures of his. He suggested I take a picture of the cobra. He placed the snake in his basket on the ground and I got down on my knees to take some shots. Behind the lens of the camara the snake did not look so intimidating so I got into getting some more shots of it. When I removed my camara from my eye it shocked me that I was almost in the face of the snake! With a gasp I fell backwards from the squatted position I was in, onto the street. By then a lot of people had gathered and were laughing. One of the men in the crowd tells me that the man comes every year with a different type of snake. Last year he brought a huge anaconda to town. Of course once a crowd gathers it turns quickly into a social event. So I spent time chatting with the people and had quite a nice time.
I love some of the things I read on signs. For example, ‘Items are available in hole sale.’ I wish I had written down all the funny things that I had seen written. Another I remember is at a restaurant. The sign just inside the entrance reads, “We Serve Worm Food”. That’s appetizing!
One night in my room I watch a large mouse run in, he was cute and he would make his appearance a few more times.
Today I was sitting on a little cement step in an alleyway when an older man came up to me and sat down beside me. Turns out he was a Vedic astrologer and wanted to do my chart. I told him I did not have any money but he proceeded nonetheless. I felt bad that he had spent time with me and that I could not pay him, although I had told him this before he started. I did mention to him that I knew of someone who was looking for a Vedic astrologer and would bring them to him. Latter I would bring Danielle to meet him but we unable to find him. Really wish we would have. Danielle was disappointed and so was I.
One day I walk down to the Muslim area. They have beautiful textiles, with very detailed and elaborate needlework. The whole area has a different look and feel to it. One thing that really stood out to me was the dress of the women. That only stood out because of the contrast of the Indian women wear brightly colored saris and the Muslim women of course are dressed head to toe in black, with only their eyes and hands showing.
Went to the Aariti tonight. It was lovely. There were about 7 Brahmins who participated in the ritual. Smoke, fire and flowers filled by visual. The river was full of boats with golden lights. The Aariti is performed every night and there are always hundreds of people there. I was fortunate to be right in front of the Brahmins. After the event we all went up to get prasad. When I approached the priest of whom I was standing in line to receive prasad, as he gave me the prasad he said, “God bless you.” I noticed he had not spoken to anyone else. It gave me to thought…of which of course none came.
I had the opportunity to spend an evening with Danielle’s mother. It was a very enjoyable evening sipping on ginger tea and conversing about numerous things. Danielle is from London and I believe her mom is living in Spain.
I am awaked by Monu's voice calling Auntie outside my door about 6:30 one morning. (Like the guys next door call me Auntie except that Monu uses the Hindi name for it. I get up; wrap myself in an Indian cloth I use as a sheet. He has been taking a class on tourism and had a test this morning that required him to go to the Ghats and talk to tourists about boat rides, what their experience was like, and if they were satisfied with his approach etc. The problem was there were no tourists out and he needed to have his paper filled out and handed in this morning. So I filled out the papers for him and he is off to hand it in. I enjoy being a part of the family.
Time is going by quickly here in Varanasi. Things happen quickly and I do not have the time to write it all down. I have introduced all my new friends to the guys at the little shop next door and before long there are quite a few of us hanging out and laughing through the day and night.
One day I was asked to watch the shop next door while they ran errands. I spent a few hours displaying the clothes on hangers, tops with pretty shawls around them paired with pants or skirts. I also folded and straightened the stacks of items on the shelves. When they came back they were really happy with the new look of brightly colored sets hanging that could be seen as one passed the shop, drawing their attention inside.
Another day I walked the Ghats .It was soooo hot that I wasn’t sure I would ever make it back. So instead of going back by way of the ghats I went up to a street and after negotiations found a tuk tuk that would take me to Tulsi Das Mandir.
It seems much time is spent just trying to find a place to stay cool. My room is hotter than hades even with the little fan. Fortunately I finally heard of an outdoors restaurant that was tucked away behind some buildings, which had overhead fans. I will spend a lot of hours there sipping iced ginger lemonade. I turned more people on to this place and they were as thankful for it as I was.
Went to Sarnath with Kelly and Augustine. Kelly is from Florida and Augustine is from Argentina. They have become engaged on their trip. They are a super nice couple and we have a lot of fun together. Sarnath is the place where Buddha gave his first teaching after becoming enlightened. At Sarnath we spoke at one of the temples to a Jain monk and learned a something quite interesting. The Jains are perhaps the most non violent of all the religious sects. The monk told us there are some monks who carry a soft fan like object when they are walking and dust the ground in front of them before each step as to not kill any microscopic insect that may be there.
At another temple I asked the monk what mudra the golden statue of Buddha was in. He told me Dharamachakre, the teaching mudra and then asked if I knew anything of Buddhism. The only thing I could speak was, “how can one know anything of life until one knows of Buddhism.” His eyes looked deep into mine with a bit of surprise an a‘AhHa’ moment.
Kelly, Augustine and myself had dinner at Sam’s, with the overhead fans and stayed there a long time, enjoying being out of the sun and resting.
I am sad for I will be departing Varanasi in the morning.
Upon arrival at the guesthouse things started getting very chatty when the guys next door came over looking for Auntie. A going away party has been planned for me. We all got together, my tourist friends, the guys next door and the father of my host at the guesthouse. We gather at the little shop, sitting on the floor, laughing, talking and taking pictures while drinking lassies. A lassie is a yogurt drink and depending on where you get it can be absolutely delicious. Some of us had bhang in our lassies. Bhang is a cannabis paste mixture, which can be added to your lassie. A great time was had by all. My friends from the shop told me that I was not like any tourist they had ever met and gave me a lovely bracelet as a gift. I was both humbled and honored by the gesture. But as always, parting comes with sadness. I have been here 3 weeks and the time has flown by
A strange thing happened this morning. I had the alarm set for 6:10, as I need to leave by 7 to go to the center of town to catch a tuk tuk to the train station (ya, that again). I pushed the button on my alarm clock but feel back to sleep (to much bhang last night). Then some ladies calling my name awakened me. I sat up and answered, “ya?” But no one was there…. No one was around anywhere. I looked downstairs and no one was there. It was just another of those times in India where there is just no explanation. Thank God for these times. If it had not been for the voices I would have missed my train.
I walked out of the ancient city of mazes higher than the little kites I had watched fluttering in the sky above the rooftop of the guesthouse upon my arrival. I reached the main street and caught a tuk tuk to the train station. The driver let me out on the side of the road and I walked the rest of the way to the station. Entering the station I come upon people looking at a board for train information. I can never understand these boards and am always at a loss of where to go. I always ask questions but I can never understand what I am being told. While I am standing there an older man asks if he can help me. Yes, Yes, Yes!!! He tells me the platform I need to go to and the way there—to your left—up the stairs—the word stairs takes some energy out of me immediately. I have climbed more stairs since being in India than I have in all my life. The man sees the dismay and asks if I would like a porter. Yes! Yes! Yes! He gets me a porter and walks with us to the place where I will board the train. The train is already there! How wonderful! He takes me onto the train to my compartment. I am so thankful. The feelings of dread of the train station that kept coming up for the past few days were now all gone. India has been merciful this morning and I am thankful.
At 7pm I am still on the train and have not been able to get anything to drink. At 8:20am we stop. I do not know where. People are getting off the train and at the end of the line a man looks at me and says, “this is Dehra Dun.” I grabbed my stuff and got off! Once again someone has come to my aid. I wonder if Dehra Dun was the last stop. Who know where I would have ended up had not the man told me where we were. I get off the train.
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