"Brace yourself. You area about to enter one of the most blindingly colorful, unrelentingly chaotic and unapologetically indiscreet places on earth. Varanasi takes no prisoners. But if you're ready for it, this may just turn out to be your favorite stop of all.
Also known at various times in history as Kashi or Benares, this is one of the world's oldest continually inhabited cities, and one of the holiest places in India. Hindu pilgrims come to the ghats lining the River Ganges here to wash away a lifetime of sins in the sacred waters or to cremate their loved ones. It is a particularly auspicious place to die, since expiring here offers moksha (liberation from the cycle of birth and death), making Varanasi the beating heart of the Hindu universe. Most visitors agree it is a magical place, but not for the faint-hearted. Here the most intimate rituals of life and death take place in public and the sights and sounds in and around the ghats can be overwhelming. Persevere. Varanasi is unique, and a walk along the ghats or a boat ride on the river will live long in the memory."
The city dates back to about 1200 BC. The Afgans destroyed the city around 1300, after laying waste to nearby Sarnath. But the most destructive force to attack Varanasi was the fanatical Mughal emperor Aurangzeb, who, in the early 19th century, looted and destroyed almost all the city. All in the name of God, of course. The old city may look ancient, but few buildings are more than a couple of hundred years old.
The ghats along the Ganges are my favorite part of the city, and one the only places where you can walk without the danger of getting run over. The one I refer to and use to navigate from is the Dasaswamedh Ghat. Every evening at 7 an elaborate Ganga Aarti ceremony is performed here. When I see this most beautiful ceremony, I usually cry. It is so cold here now that we cannot go out at night. Hopefully, before we leave Varanasi for the final time on this trip, it will be warm enough to attend the ceremony. By the way, aarti is the last puja of the day, when the gods are put to bed. Even in this household, Babhi lays her tiny brass gods down and covers them with the robes she has made for them. Ritual is an integral part of Indian life. I too have always been a big fan of ritual. My favorite ritual in life now is waking up at 5 AM on a winter's morning to a cold house. I start the fire in our wood stove and meditate a bit, watching the flames grow and dance about. Then I curl up in the rocking chair by the stove and read. Life is good.
India suffered a thousand years of Moslem invasions, and the memory survives. Hindu's are wary of Moslems, but usually manage to live side by side peacefully. My heart goes out to the world's peace loving Moslems who bear the brunt of the radicalized minority. Christianity went through the same savage stages when it raped and pillaged its way through the Moslem world in the crusades. All in the name of the peaceful Jesus, and plunder of course. Although much of the population of Varanasi is Moslem, I have only seen a few Moslem women, covered from head to tow in their black burkas. I don't think they go out of their homes much. Bindu tells me that at home, their husbands like them to dress provocatively. The only problem I have with Islam is its belief that you must have as many children as God gives you. This also keeps them poor and uneducated. This is not to say there are not very well educated Moslems here, it is just a general statement. I share Hindu's frustration with this belief. They no longer have large families. JP's nieces and nephews have had no more than 3 children. We expect that their children, who are now just beginning to have kids, will only have 2. Also, the Hindus are getting married at older ages, girls at about 25, boys close to 30. I was aghast to learn from one of my many podcasts ( I am addicted to free podcasts through I Tunes) that there is a group of evangelical Christians in the US, calling themselves Quiver Full, who also believe that women should have as many children as God gives them. Their God must not be paying attention to the state of this earth he created. One thing I really miss from the Moslem world is the Muzzin, the call to prayer broadcast from high towers. It is so eerily beautiful. I'm surprised I have not heard it here.
I was very happy to read that there is a effort to clean up the Ganges. The problem is not the hoards of people who use it daily. Rather, it is the untreated sewage that is dumped in it daily.
On Tues., 1/19 we went shopping with Smita. I bought cloth to make 3 new salvar-kameez's. Not because I wanted more Indian clothes, but because I only have two with long sleeves and it is freezing here. The tailor came from next door, measured me, and said they would be done in a few days. Indian women do not buy clothes off the rack. They choose from a myriad of fabrics and have them made by a tailor, who charges a few dollars. Then off to the eyeglass shop for two pairs of new glasses for JP. I also brought a pair of very expensive sunglasses that had been hopelessly scratched to have new glass installed. This would have cost $150 in the US. We are guessing it will cost about $30 here. Then off to the narrow streets of the old town where not even bicycle rickshaws can pass. We were here to buy Banaris silk saris for all the women in Delhi and Varanasi. JP always does this when we are here. Banaris silk saris are the most prized in all of India, costing up to $10,000. They are traditionally woven by Moslem families. Of course, we were not buying the $10,000 ones. I remember this shop from past visits. It is four flights up through a narrow alley. Once there it is obvious this shop is selling pricy stuff. Shoes off at the door and onto clean white sheets. We sit on the floor on pillows while hundreds of exquisite saris are unfurled for our perusal. Smita loves this part of every trip. She and JP look, feel and discuss every one. One is finally chosen for each specific woman. Smita knows who would like what and what is appropriate. Al this, of course, is way over my head and I just sit there enjoying the show. There is no dust here and everything is polished to a high shine. Smita knew these guys well through her husband's work.
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