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October 22nd – Varanasi still
“Older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together” Mark Twain
Varanasi is one of the oldest living cities on the earth. It has kept it’s religious roots since the 6th Century AD, by isolating politically. The original part of the city is the area near the Ganges where we’re staying. The maize of narrow laneways, some with markets begins right next to the river. Each market area sells 2 or 3 types of things, e.g. jewellery, clothes & silks. We are now comfortable walking about in here now (the laneways range from about 12 feet down to 3 feet) & find it fairly easy to find our way out again (if you get lost you can always head for the river). We haven’t bought anything here though, it’s hot & close in here & it’s just easier to keep moving (moving also helps us avoid being hassled, motorcycles & cow shit)!
Yesterday we took a boat ride on the Ganges at 5:30 am, the perfect time of day. Many tourists were also out: Indian, western, some budhists. There was a sign on the wall “Fortunate are the people who reside on the banks of the Ganga”.
Later in the morning we went to the Burning Ghat, where bodies are cremated (there are over 300 ghats or steps down to the Ganges; some have fallen apart by now). Volunteers work here and the young man we spoke to explained a lot about the process as follows:
- there are 3 areas for burning bodies for rich, middle class & poor people
- ~200 kg. of wood is needed for each person; sandalwood for rich people & banyan for the rest
- cremation here means the soul goes immediately to Nirvana
- no one can cry at a cremation or the soul is held back
- children under 10; pregnant women & holy men do not need to be cremated
- the body is washed, then wrapped in coloured cloth: gold for old men; orange for old women; white for young men & red for young women
- volunteers go around the lanes regularly and bring sick old people to the hospices beside the ghat
It was profoundly moving to see the funeral pyres (really just small piles, not the high ones one sees in the literature; they’re for the rich)…and to see the wrapped body of an old man on the fire. We are so isolated from death in our culture.
Afterwards I made a donation for wood for poor people. I gave the money to a woman who they think is 103 years old. I removed my hat, knelt in front of her and said my name and she blessed me by saying some words and patting my head several times. This woman worked with Mother Teresa in the past and currently still nurses the old who live out their lives in the 3 hospice houses beside the ghat.
As I describe this to you now, the feeling I had yesterday comes back to me strongly… emotional, almost a desire to cry, but not, an opening of my heart and throat chakras I believe.
I feel honoured to have been allowed in this holy of holiest place, to learn & to observe.
We leave Varanasi, this city of living and dying early tomorrow afternoon. I felt I wanted to share yesterday’s experience with you on my blog. Hopefully it will be helpful to you; writing about it is an important part of my process.
