Scribblings

Decision:

My brain is full and my body is on empty - I’m cutting this trip short and flying home early.

I’ve accomplished my goals: Meeting wonderful people and seeing life from the other side. I’m now overwhelmed by the heat, my continuing intestinal trouble and I really need some non-Indian, un-spiced food!

Download:

Varanasi is old and worn down. Lots of crumbling brick, pavement so spotty the streets are ‘off-road’ and garbage is always underfoot. Most of the clean storefronts belong to the motorcycle dealerships - their showrooms sparkle with spotlights and glass. Their glow can be seen for half a mile.

Owing to the narrow streets, cars are scarce – everyone rides Honda ‘Hero’ motorbikes. Relentless and chaotic, traffic here is 65% motorbikes, 30% auto-rickshaws (see photo) and the rest are either bicycle-rickshaws or stone-age carts pulled by donkeys, bulls or skinny old men.

Dinesh:

I was fortunate to find a honest auto-rickshaw driver by the name of Dinesh. He claimed to be 28 years old but looked and acted older and wiser, a true gentleman. The other night, he led me through the hubbub of the ancient maze of streets in the oldest part of the city. The streets near the Ganges become so narrow Dinesh had to park his auto-rickshaw. He ran interference as we hurried past the temples and beggars to the waterfront to catch the elaborate nightly Hindu ceremony to honor the ‘Mother’ river.

Dinesh helped negotiate the services of an 18-foot rowboat so I could view the holy extravaganza from the water.

As we were shoving off, a small boy of ten appeared on the boat and insisted I light a couple of lotus/candles to float down the river. I thought “Why not, can’t hurt to participate”.

Afraid to actually touch Ganges water, like any westerner with a lick of sense, I carefully plopped the candle-flowers onto the water and watched them float downstream to join hundreds of other flickering gems in the darkness.

“Fifty rupees!” muttered the kid.
“Hunh?”
“For charity” he answered, cynically.
I handed over a fifty-rupee note and he glared at me, “C’mon,sir…” as if a tip was required.
“Hey!” I bellowed. “The candles were your idea!”

He grabbed the fifty and scurried over to another boat to hit up more tourists.

The fire and incense ceremony was performed at the water’s edge in front of hundreds of devotees watching from the steps and others, like me, watching in boats. Lots of bell ringing and chanting made the spectacle hypnotic.

Later, walking back through the alleyways to the vehicle after my river excursion, I noticed Dinesh was now barefoot. I shuddered at the thought of walking these streets without shoes.

“While I waited for you,” Dinesh said, “I took off my sandals and waded in the Ganges for a blessing. Some lady sitting on the steps thought they had been abandoned and tossed my sandals into the river ‘for good luck’. They floated away before I could catch them.”

Once back in the rickshaw, he asked if he could run into a shop to buy more slippers. We pulled over at a hole-in-the-wall shoe shop on a hectic corner. As soon as Dinesh hopped up the steps, who should appear alongside the rickshaw from out of the crowd, but the lotus-candle kid.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“I’ve got his sandals!”

I leaned out the window and hollered toward the shop “Hey, Dinesh! We’ve got your shoes!”

Dinesh and the kid had a brief exchange in Hindi and all was well. Dinesh slid on his shoes and we zoomed off toward my hotel.

Okaaaay…

Delirious:

Time to head home. There is so much to share, both good and less than good. I will try to sum it all up in a video piece.

Ciao!