July 26, 2006
My environment changed dramatically today. I came from Leh, the laid-back northern town where very few people hassled or hustled me, where the pace was slow, the weather was hot but dry in the daytime and very chilly at night. Now I'm in Varanasi, a hot, hectic and very much alive place about 14 hours east and a bit south of Delhi. It's been dubbed the "Holy City" of the Hindu religion, the place where the dead are brought to be cremated on the banks of the Ganges River, which I saw for the first time today. It is a massively wide river which looks like a giant milk coffee, frothy pollution all over the surface. It has only sand on the eastern bank, and Varanasi city and its "ghats" on the western bank. "Ghat" is the term used for sections of the riverbank which have each been layed with stone and staircases, temples and monuments, making it easy for people to access the river....some of them are used for bathing, others for cremating bodies, others for laundry, etc....
Behind the ghats is the old city of Varanasi, with small alley-like streets, buildings going up 3 or 4 stories on each side, with the 1st floor of each being a shop about the size of 2 or 3 phone booths. This is the most colorful place I've seen in India. They sell everything in these small shops: fried dough, samosas, vermillion, Hindu religious objects, fruits, spices, candies, flowers, bangles, incense, beads, saris, silk and other material....anything you can imagine. Large bulls and buffaloes swish their tails with force, dogs and goats compete for space in the narrow streets, people avoiding them (and their droppings) as they hurry past, shuffling along the muddied stone streets, sticky from the ongoing monsoon rains. Children run barefoot through the winding alleys, trying to sell me postcards, occasionally asking for money. Women are dressed in brightly-colored saris, wearing lots of gold jewellery and red dots between their foreheads, signifying marriage. Garbage is pushed into the spaces which open up between buildings, and the scent of incense mixed with garbage, cow crap, and frying foods fills the air. There are flies everywhere, so I keep one hand free to fan it in front of my face. Motorbikes and bicycles occasionally blare their horns, signaling for everyone to get over so they can pass through. Walking by each shop, someone inevitable says, "Madame, have a look? Madame, which country? Madame, how are you today?" (Here, I'm constantly called Madame....not Ma'am, or Miss, but Madame.) Sometimes I bother to respond or nod, sometimes I don't....
I went to the "Ganga Fuji Restaurant" for dinner tonight, which ended up being an excellent choice. A French couple inside told me they'd tried several places, but this one was the best...while joking that, since they are French, they are hard to please! The owner was a very nice man, recommending the Vegetable Kasmiri curry, Nan bread, and yogurt dish with cucumber. I accepted, and all was devoured heartily! When I was done, he brought his 8-month old daughter for me to hold, leaving me with her for quite some time. She was very cute, wtih ankle & wrist bracelets, gold necklace and a red & white checked dress. I held her as she pounded her hands on the table, looking around...when suddenly my lap began to feel very wet. I picked her up, and realized that she was peeing all over me! No diaper, nothing! I held her over the floor as she finished, then gave her back to a man who worked at the restaurant, who didn't apologize or look as though anything strange had happened at all! Apparently, no babies here wear diapers...I wonder what their parents do, walk around with baby pee and poop all over them all the time??? I got my check, said goodbye, and headed to the nearest shop to buy laundry soap and return to my hotel....since I heard that all laundry here is washed in the Ganges, I decided I'd do my own.
All over town are men pilgrims, dressed in orange, vermillion on their faces, walking barefoot through the alleys and larger streets, carrying decorations and chanting mantras. This is a big festival month in Varanasi, and young men have walked barefoot for hundreds of miles to participate. Rickshaw bicycles and 3-wheeled auto-rickshaws are everywhere. I shared a ride into town from the airport with an older Indian man here on business in pharamceutical sales. He, like others I've met, was surprised to find that I'm alone here in India. He asked me about Pres. Bush, telling me that he believes it's all about the oil. I asked him about the Indian caste system, and he said, "It's there. It's still there. But things are changing slowly. But here in India, nobody tells anyone else what to do or how to think, we are free to change our own minds and this is how society changes. Nobody forces us to change our thinking, but the people are very much forward-thinking, thinking about the positive future of India." My response? "Well, things probably change quite slowly, then, because the people at the top have no REASON to change the structure of society, and the lower castes have no POWER to change anything. So the only real way change will happen is if someone at the top tells them they must change, enforces rules that are above the natural tendencies of people, forces them to behave in ways which will move society forward. If someone tells them they must change, change will happen faster....or at least I think so." He was silent, giving no response.....I suppose I'm a little too opinionated for a woman here, especially a woman talking to an older man! (Well, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, now does it??!) I suppose my cross-cultural comprehension abilities are failing me...
July 27, 2006
It's been a full day already, and it's only 1:30 p.m. After a banana chocolate pancake and some coffee at my guesthouse, I set out for the ghats, camera in hand. Before I even got to the riverbank, a little boy, 11 years old named Suni, joined me. At first he wanted to sell me some postcards -- I said "No, I'm making my own postcards, look!" showing him my camera. He seemed to accept that, and led me all along the southward ghats, stopping along the way for me to take photos of people bathing, selling flowers, preparing decorations for ceremonies, repairing boats, washing clothes, and taking baths alongside the buffaloes doing the same. There were many old people down here--- with white beards, wrinkled hands. People with orange cloth wrapped around them that hasn't been made into "clothing," per se. "Boat, Madame?" Tomorrow I'd like a boat ride, but for today, I'm happy to just follow Suni, leading me along, deterring people from approaching me. Goats lined the stairs leading up out of the ghats, as do ducks , cows, dogs...and laundry is washed and hung up or laid out on rocks to dry. It's colorful-- the mixture of people, the clothing, the flowers, the glass beads being sold. When we couldn't go any further, we turned back-- this time walking through the very narrow streets of small shops. Eventually, Suni's older cousin, Babu, joined us. He chatted with me in surprisingly good English for a 14-year-old, telling me he is in 9th grade, asking me loads of questions. Another boy then tagged along, Babu's friend Raj... They took me to a Nepalese temple with intricately carved wood. They lead me up 5 flights of a really narrow staircase of their building to show me the view of the close-knit buildings of Varanasi from the top of theirs. They took me to the "Burning Ghat," the place where they cremate bodies. All along the upper banks of the ghat, huge piles of wood were everywhere, stacked in anticipation. I saw a dead body, laid out on a bamboo stretcher, wrapped in an orange cloth and covered in flowers, dipped in the Ganges to purify it, and then placed on some stairs for a long period of time. Finally, when some wood had been piled up and the fire started with the flame from an "eternal fire" that supposedly hasn't been put out for 7,000 years, they placed the body inside the fire, removing it from the bamboo stretcher and piling the stretcher onto others. Several such fires were burning at the same time, so the area was filled with the smoke from wood and incinerating corpses, burning my eyes to the point where I had to turn away for a long time. I was told that after the burning is completed, family members throw unburned bones into the Ganges: skulls, chest, and hip bones which are difficult to burn. According to the Hindu religion, being burned here in Varanasi means that you will go straight to Nirvana, or heaven. This made me wonder...if all one has to do to end the cycle of living on earth, of good and bad karma and reincarnation, is to be burned here....why does anyone even think of doing things for good karma, of being reincarnated? Why don't they all just be burned here, reach Nirvana, and never return to earth? I've received one answer: Because even after reaching Nirvana, people are reincarnated again. "Then what's the point of ever reaching Nirvana?" I wonder. No answer.... Again, the cross-cultural comprehension problem....
Men with large pans filled with ashes were knee-deep in the river, sifting through them. When I asked who these men were and what they were doing, a boy explained to me that the men who work at the ghats were looking for jewellery from the ashes of the dead people. "What do they do with the jewellery they fine?" I asked. "Sell it in the marketplace, and keep the money." "Why don't the families keep the jewellery?" "No! In Hinduism we don't do this. The jewellery belongs to the dead person, not to the family." "But now it belongs to some random workman who didn't even know the dead person...and he doesn't treasure the jewellery, he goes and sells it. Shouldn't it rather be treasured by the family, passed down from generation to generation in the family?" "No, it's bad luck to do that." "OK." Will I be able to understand anything in this place?
The boy also explained to me that several types of people are not burned: children under 10 years old (because their souls are still pure), pregnant women (because they carry the pure-souled child), holy men (they don't need to be burned to reach nirvana), lepers, and people who've been bitten by a snake (so as not to spread the disease in the air.) With these types of people, they are wrapped in something, tied to some rocks, and dropped to the bottom of the Ganges, which sometimes results in the strong currents of the river lifting them to the top... I said to the boy, "Wow, the river must be quite dirty with all of those dead bodies in it!" And he said, "We never say that the river is dirty! That is like saying that your pregnant mother is dirty, or that the holy man is dirty!" I responded, "I'm not talking offensively about the people buried in the river, I'm talking simply about the cleanliness, the healthiness, of it. For example, if I were to drink some water from this river, I would probably get very sick." "No, it's perfectly clean. It will make you pure, it will make you stronger, and you will live a much longer life if you drink it." "OK," I muttered. (Considering that over 30 untreated sewers pour into the Ganges at Varanasi, that there is literally no infused oxygen in the river at this point, and many waterbourne diseases wreak havoc on the 400 million people living along its banks, the boy was speaking solely on his beliefs, not on anything grounded in reality. Ah, the problems religious beliefs cause the world...This time, it was clearly HE who couldn't understand.) I was not allowed to take any photos of the burning ghats-- that would be bad karma. Then they wanted a donation for 1 kg of cremation wood for the poor, which would cost me $3. I gave $1, not being sure if they were just stealing my money or actually using it for this purpose....and they were not happy. They said that they weren't forcing me to pay, but they wanted me to buy 1 kg worth of wood. I said, "Look, you ARE trying to force me. You asked me to give, so I gave, and now you're wanting more. 50 rupees is enough." Then he said, "OK."
After the burning ghat episode, the kids asked if I'd like to go to their uncle's silk shop. I said that I didn't need any silk, but "OK, why not?" He showed me beautiful silk scarves that would make nice gifts, so I bought a few. These kids really are skilled at pretending they're my friends, while really what they are doing is leading me to places where I'll spend some rupees and they'll get a comission!! "Oh well, I don't have to find my way around this maze of streets, and I'm enjoying their company, so it's ok," I thought. In fact, I don't think I'd have seen as much without them. Walking back to my guesthouse, we agreed that they would meet me again at 6 p.m. to view a "puja," or prayer ceremony at a nearby ghat. As we walked, a guy with a turban looked at me and pointed to a basket he held in one hand. When I looked down, he lifed the lid and a cobra emerged, its tongue flipping. My eyes got huge as I looked back up at the guy, my body shivering. He smiled as I kept on walking.
July 28, 2006
Today I took a 5:30 a.m. sunrise row-boat trip down the Ganges River, (with 4 Spaniards I met at my hotel). We all gasped as saw 2 dead bodies floating in the river....one of them was being eaten by 2 birds, the other was bloated like it had balloons for limbs, lifted up off of the water's surface. And we gasped not so much because of the bodies, but because of what else goes on alongside those dead bodies....every part of the daily life of human beings takes place in this river. And to us, perhaps, this proximity with nature, with the water that we drink, with the animals surrounding us....it seemed quite dirty and shocking. As we proceeded down the river, we saw two human legs sticking out of a burning funeral pyre along the edge of the river, and people defacating all along the riverbank, cleaning themselves afterward in the river water. This place is definitely challenging my capacity to understand other cultures....in looking at this I remember that I'm not supposed to judge, just observe. But this is one of the most shocking human existences I've ever seen, and it's challenging me a great deal. I can understand why the river was thought to be holy in historical days, as water gives life to people, and it's something to be thankful for. And after all, this is one of the hugest rivers in the world, and India has an over 5,000 year history to be respected. But isn't something "holy" supposed to be treated with the utmost of care? This river is dumped in, polluted, defacated in, humiliated, from my viewpoint. I'm finding it difficult to think that the Indians here believe that it will make them healthy and strong to drink the water, to bathe in it. All along the river, people are doing just that: drinking the water, bathing in it, herds of buffalos dip themselves, with dead animals wrapped in cloths, floating around under boats. The 30 sewers pouring into the river at this point make it the most polluted point along the course of the Ganges, causing many waterborne diseases among the people. It is incomprehensible to me, and I'm struggling to understand how people cannot literally see the dirtiness, cannot care about the floating bodies or the sewage or the filth, cannot make connections between this and the diarreah, the diseases which must take some of their loved ones. I just cannot understand, unless I just chalk the whole thing up to an incompetent and uncaring government, traditional, un-updated religious practices and beliefs, and a rampant lack of environmental education. But then, I suppose, this is why I came to India. I came to experience things which would challenge me, which I cannot possibly comprehend. I have experienced many cultural things I couldn't understand....but I've never experienced anything of this level of incomprehensibility. I have the feeling that the images of Varanasi in my mind will stay there for a very long time. Perhaps my mind will sort things out, have more respect for this extremely long history, for the customs and yogic way of life that have kept this country in the forefront of peaceful and healthy practices for thousands of years...
July 29, 2006
Today was a good day, despite the fact that my camera broke. And despite my level of incomprehensiblility (is that a word?) of the situation of the Ganges River, I love Varanasi. It's a vibrant, colorful place, and I love the atmosphere here. This morning I went down to a nearby ghat and just sat and watched the people. As I decided to take my first photo of the day, however, I realized that my camera was broken! After buying a bunch of loose glass beads for my sis-in-laws from a street vendor, I didn't stay much longer....I soon headed out to the main road to look for a camera place that could perhaps help me out. I walked for nearly a 1/2 hr., stopping for the rainstorm, buying a soda, watching people, asking around for a photo shop. Finally I came to one, and after the guy examined my camera for some time, he told me that he knows a mechanic, that perhaps the mechanic could help me. He noted that it was 3 or 4 kilometers away, and that his son could take me there, if I like, for 100 rupees. I said OK, but had to return to my guesthouse first to get some more cash. When I got back to the camera shop with my cash, the cameraman's son and I walked for some distance to get a "shared autorickshaw," which cost only 7 rupees per person (about 15 cents)! This was a new discovery for me! Anyhow, we arrived some time later in a different area of town, and walked to the camera shop, a tiny place the size of 3 phone booths, cameras all over the shelf overhead, one man working on a Canon with small metal tools. We gave him my camera, and he immediately started working on it. After a while, he had fixed the problem in the body of my camera and started unscrewing my lens. He explained that the mirror inside the camera had gotten tilted somehow, and he had fixed that quickly. But the lens couldn't focus, and so he needed to fix the aperture, and it would take about an hour. I told the man who had brought me that I was happy to wait for it, that he could go. I gave him 100 rupees, and off he went, asking me over and over if I was sure I didn't need him anymore, was I certain that I knew where my hotel was, etc...., which I was. I read my book as the man worked on my camera, and in less than an hour, it was working like a charm, for less than $14!!! "What a STEAL," I thought. I decided to take some photos with my newly repaired camera, so I got up on a concrete divider between two lanes of slowly-moving traffic, taking photos of a cow laying in the middle of the street, motorbikes going around him as if he was a set of orange construction cones. Hopping a rickshaw, I then headed back to my area of town. After he had dropped me off too far from where I stay, I wandered around looking for an electricity converter, which I need to charge my videocamera. After stopping in 3 shops, I finally found one that had what I needed. The guy wanted 350 rupees for the thing (about $9) which I thought was WAY too much. I bargained him down to 250, (about $6), and off I went, camera fixed and converter in hand! As I neared my area, I took a few photos, one of an old man with a huge tree of flutes next to him that he was trying to sell. One man with a baby began talking to me, in a different way from others...he explained that he was a teacher, his father a professor. We chatted for a while, as dozens of barefoot young pilgrim men dressed in orange gathered around us. Finally, they motioned for me to take their photo...but I wanted to be in it too, so I had the man give me his baby and take a photo of me with the men in orange and the man with the flutes! Let's hope it turns out....
I leave Varanasi tomorrow.
