All my of my senses are on overdrive as I attempt to wade through the confusion of the busy Varanasi streets. The sun is setting and the rich golden light only seems to intensify the flurry of activity to close up shop and make their way to the banks of the Ganges for evening prayer.
For thousands of years this captivating city nestled on the banks of the Ganges has drawn pilgrims of many faiths from across the globe creating a confluence of spirituality and culture. “You must live at least two-hundred lives before you come here,” said an old man through his gap-toothed smile. Looking into his mischievous eyes there was an age and wisdom there that made his words easy to believe.
Before I can respond I’m swept away by the chaos, as a wave of people, carts and animals gather me up and hurl me forward. Shouting, chanting, the sound of bells and everything else clang-able fills my head as lights and colors go flying by. It feels like I’m caught in some eighties psychedelic rock video being launched into outer-space at light speed. The din grows into a deafening roar and the smell of incense fills the air, cloying and seductive. We’re here.
The scene before me is unlike anything imaginable. Giant platforms line the river, commanded by holy men administering evening prayers. They wail and slap the ground uttering words I cannot understand, yet the emotion they evoke is palpable. The throngs sway in unison as the sound of a thousand prayers creates a low hum reverberating through the very stones of this ancient city.
Before me the robes of Buddhists, Hindus, and Jains color the streets as they conspire with sari-clad women to create a living rainbow flickering in and out like sunlight glinting off the morning dew. Vendors are everywhere selling religious effigies, musky incense, and bright orange flowers to tourists and pilgrims alike. I find myself staring at a stoic Vaishnavite, the three white lines on his forehead declaring his dedication to the god Vishnu. We make eye contact and he hands me a candle in a little boat made of dry leaves. A quiet understanding passed between us and I mutter a thank-you before I make my way towards the water.
Thousands kneel at the Ganges’ edge with offerings of incense, flowers, and food. I watch in awe and wonder as the river begins to blossom with light as hundreds of floating candles are sent out like little stars carrying the hopes, dreams and fears of the people around me. The emotion is tangible and I feel at once more connected to humanity, yet isolated by language and culture than I have ever been before. As I place my candle on the water I smile at this incredible journey, and pray for more to come.
