City of Light

Friday 21 January – Sunday 23 January 2000

Having endured several long, dusty journeys on local buses, crammed into two-person seats with at least one other body for several hours at a time, we decided to upgrade our mode of transport and fly from Khajuraho to our next stop, Varanasi.  Situated on the western bank of the sacred Ganges and dedicated to the god Shiva, this is one of the holiest places in the whole of India.

It is also, as we were to find out, one of the dirtiest, but numbed by the constant contact with filth and decay wherever we ventured in the country, we were not about to be put off and were both looking forward to visiting this magical place.  We had read up in the guidebook on the potential dangers and annoyances we might face, ranging from power cuts and predatory rickshaw-wallahs to food poisoning, touts and theft.  In addition, the Ganges is far from clean.  The latest faecal coliform count was measured at 250,000 times the World Health Organization's safe permitted maximum, so we were not risking any chai (tea) from people who might have been rinsing their glasses out in the river!

The main attraction in Varanasi is the long string of ghats that line the western bank of the Ganges.  Most are used for bathing, and Hindu pilgrims come here to bathe in the waters, a ritual that washes away all their sins.  Others are used for burning and the bodies of people who die in this auspicious place are cremated, ensuring them release from the cycle of rebirths (a sort of passport to heaven).  It was a strange sensation watching the rituals of life and death played out so openly in the public domain, but it was also this accessibility to such ancient traditions that captivated our attention and encouraged us to learn more.

We had heard that the most interesting time to visit the ghats was at dawn, when the river is bathed in a magical light and pilgrims come to perform puja to the rising sun.  With over 100 ghats along the length of the river, these rituals could be witnessed from many spots and the best way to take it all in was out on the water in a boat.  Boat trips up along the riverbank have become a pretty tacky must-do tourist ritual and even at dawn, there were several boats out on the water; but despite this, it presented a poignant, unforgettable scene.  All along the riverbank, throngs of people gathered for a ritual bath, practised yoga, offered blessings, cast flowers, shaved, swam, or threw money to the ever-present beggars in a bid to improve their karma.

Every now and again, something would hit against the side of the boat or the oar would uncover what looked like a parcel floating in the water, wrapped in cloth and bound with rope.  Intrigued as to what they could possibly be (most Indians would not be so careful in packaging their rubbish) we asked our boatmen what they were.  “Bodies”, he replied.  As animals, children and adults who died of diseases could not be cremated in the Hindu religion, they would apparently be bundled up and set off to float down river instead.  Usually, they would be weighed down with stones, but every now and again they would bob to the surface and could be seen making their way downstream.  Once we were conscious of what these packages actually were, we seemed to see them everywhere and were doubly resolved not to go anywhere near the water.

One familiar sight at many of the ghats was the burgeoning laundry business undertaken by dhobi-wallahs of all ages.  Using soap, scrubbing brushes and a stone, clothing would be scrubbed and then beaten clean, using the repellant (but holy) water of the Ganges for the rinse cycle.  Vast stretches of the riverbank were turned over to clothes drying.  Having washed all our clothes in the bathtub on our travels to date, we were somewhat intrigued to know how clean they would come back, but on second thought, decided not to investigate the matter further; if they didn’t come back contaminated, they would probably be in shreds not having withstood the intense thrashing to which they would have been subjected.

As morbid as it may sound, one of the most fascinating things to watch was the activity around the Manikarnika Ghat, the oldest and most sacred ghat, which was also the main burning ghat in Varanasi and one of the most auspicious places a Hindu can be cremated.  Corpses were lined up on bamboo stretchers alongside the area where bodies were burning, swathed in white cloth (if they were men) or red or gold cloth (if they were women).  Male family members (absolutely no females were allowed in this area) dressed in white could be seen giving orders to the outcasts who handled the corpses and once the firewood had been purchased, they built the fires, doused the body in the Ganges and then set it atop the wood pile and set it alight.  We watched the proceedings from a high vantage point and every now and again as the wind changed direction, would get a whiff of burning flesh.  It was eerie, but at the same time enthralling watching this incredible ritual unfold in such a matter-of-fact way.  Interestingly, the bodies took ages to burn.  Occasionally, the odd limb would fall out of the swaddling and one of the doms (outcasts) would poke it back into the fire. When there were nothing but ashes remaining, they would rake through the dirt, picking out any pieces of jewelry or other valuables and then shovel the remains into the Ganges, clearing the way for another fire and another body.

One other place we were keen to visit whilst in Varanasi was the nearby town of Sarnath, where Buddha came to preach his message of the 'Middle Way' to Nirvana after he achieved enlightenment at Bodhgaya.  Later, magnificent stupas and monasteries were built here by the emperor Ashoka, but were destroyed after Buddhism went into decline and Muslim invaders destroyed and desecrated the city’s buildings.  It was thanks to the British that Sarnath regained some of its former glory when archaeologists began excavations in 1835, and it is now a major Buddhist centre.

Most of the monuments are set in landscaped gardens and attract pilgrims from all parts of the world who come here to worship Buddha.  The main stupa, which dominates the site, is believed to mark the spot where the Buddha preached his famous sermon.  Pilgrims walk around its perimeter clockwise chanting and praying, occasionally stopping to kiss the ground before continuing on their journey around the monument.  We were interested to see Tibetans forming part of this pilgrim contingent, as well as monks dressed in the traditional orange robes we had seen throughout our travels in Southeast Asia.

But the ultimate oasis of Varanasi for Pippa was the Bread of Life Bakery where she found a menu of American Pancakes, Baked Potatoes and Tuna Sandwiches to assuage her every-growing appetite and aversion to Indian food.  The very thought of the dishes she had grown to love at the beginning of our travels sent her running for the bathroom and it had proved a challenge to find anything that appealed to her palate in her ever-nauseous state.  With hindsight, it’s difficult to know what she remembers best about Varanasi:  the weird and wonderful scenes around the main ghats or the meals at the Bread of Life Bakery.  

Bodhgaya

Monday 24 January - Tuesday 25 January 2000

Now well into the story of Buddha and following in his footsteps across India, no trip would have been complete without a visit to Bodhgaya, one of the four most holy places in India associated with Buddha and where he achieved enlightenment.  Rather than an archeological site, it is very much a working centre for Buddhism and is the most important Buddhist pilgrimage site in the world. 

Our journey to Bodhgaya was not without incident.  Setting the alarm early for a 05.00am train from Varanasi (which eventually turned up well past 10.00am), we seemed to spend most of the day stopping and starting for no apparent reason and spending interminable hours sitting stationary on the tracks miles from any station.  In addition, there was no option on travelling first class so we were bundled in like cattle (on second thought, cattle are treated well in India), clinging to our bags for fear they may not make it all the way and unable to find anything resembling a toilet.

But we arrived safely and the next morning were up early to walk to the temple and gardens and learn more about Buddhism.  Although Bodhgaya is a relatively small place, it seems to be growing rapidly and, as the guidebook most aptly put it, is acquiring all the usual tourism paraphernalia.  Some of this Pippa was not complaining about.  Having set off in search of something edible, she had happened upon marmite (a British vegetable spread that she loves and Eric finds inedible) and Dairy Milk chocolate (the best of British chocolate).  She had attained all the enlightenment she needed right there, but in the spirit of things, took a look around the temples too.

The Mahabodhi Temple stands adjacent to a descendent of the original bodhi tree under which Buddha attained enlightenment.  There are several stone stupas dotted around the temple courtyard in which monks, pilgrims and worshippers of all denominations meditate or pray.  It’s a beautiful, shady setting and flags and banners hang from the trees, rustling in the breeze.  There was very little noise and the whole place seemed to have a calm aura about it which invited us to sit and contemplate, presumably as Buddha did many centuries before.