Burnin’ For You

The overnight bus arrived in Varanasi just as the night was giving way to day. As expected, I was not well rested. I was hoping daylight would give me enough energy to get to a hostel to rest up but the grayness of sunrise through the fog had the exact opposite effect.

Varanasi is a city of just over a million people. Most of them seemed to be between me and where I needed to be. Not that I knew where that was. I had been using a phone app called Maps.Me. You download a map for the city you are going and it loads the bars, restaurants, hotels, shops, Points of interest, etc. Once it’s downloaded, it works without an internet connection. As long as there is a GPS signal, you can track your location on the map. It’s pretty good.

Typical views around Varanasi City

Me, on the other hand, not so much. I could not for the life of me find the hostel. I walked the mainstreet for hours looking for the side alley that would take me there. I even broke down and asked directions. As usual I was left perplexed by people who have lived in a place their whole lives and didn’t have rudimentary knowledge of what was within 500 meters of where they sit day after day.

Finally, made a turn down a sketchy alley into the maze of narrow alleys, lined with hostels, cafes and shops. I stopped into the first hostel I came across. The front desk girl, a blond haired blue eyed English speaking new-ager was kind enough to point me to somewhere else. I think my sleepless night and resulting grumpy frustration from being lost for three hours was harshing her mellow.

Her directions were good though. “Turn left and keep walking” were about all my brain could handle. Another 100 yards and I came across a German bakery. I decided to take a break from my Trek. It had wifi so I was better able to get a pinpoint on the hostel. Right across the alley.

I checked into the Chatterbox Hostel ready for a rest. But that German Coffee had other ideas. I headed back out in to the maze of alleys that is Varanasi.

Varanasi sets on the banks of the Ganges River. It has been a cultural and religious center of northern India for several thousand years. I have read that it might be the oldest city in the world. Hindus believe that by dying here, getting cremated along the banks of the “holy” and their ashes swept into the sacred and purifying water of the Ganges, their reincarnation cycle will end and they will reach Nirvana. (the place, not the band)

It is a bit shocking to see dead people being carried through the main streets and back alleys on their way to the last BBQ. You have to pay attention walking the narrow back alleys. It is very similar to a New Orleans Sendoff except much quieter. They sneak right up on you and they have some momentum. You’ll get shoved right out of the way. I think they should adopt a little New Orleans style to the whole effort. But with Bollywood!!! Bad lip syncs and all.

The folks in Ghana already got it going on.

 

But in the meantime, the procession heads down to the cement steps leading down to the Ganges, known as Ghats. Members of the Untouchable Caste (still a thing) are the caretakers of the cremation ghats, and their role is to protect the ever-burning flame at the Temple. Believed to have been burning for over 3500 years. These caretakers keep the cremations going 24/7. They provide the cremation packages, which includes the purchasing of essential wood that is needed to burn the bodies, and assistance during the rituals (sometimes they have to give the skulls a bit of a whack during the cremation in order to move things along a bit).

It is quite the spectacle, 100’s of Lookie Lous mixed in with the deceased’s family and friends watching bodies burn. The bodies are covered by a thin cloth but not much imagination is needed. When all is said and done, the ashes are pushed in to the river and another body is queued up for the ride to Nirvana (The place, not the band).

As mentioned earlier, there are also people who make the pilgrimage with hopes that it will be a round trip. These folks come to take a wash in the Ganges, not up river from the cremation sweeper, but right there in the ashy water. You have to be pretty hard up for a wash if the best you can do is wade in amongst the ashes and bits that didn’t quite burn up. Oh and the Holy Cow shit that washes in from the Varanasi streets. I personally would buy the one way ticket if the Ganges soak was the other option.

A lot of folks come here for the spiritual aspect. There are plenty of yoga and meditation centers to find enlightenment. As a born and raised lapsed catholic, I have had enough enlightenment to see me through and when you’ve seen one cremation, you have seen them all. It was time to head out.

While I was enjoying $9 beds and cheap authentic butter chicken, I wasn’t feeling that there was much more to see other than more of the same. I had come to India mostly to test my tolerance for chaos and lack of control. Sure, there were piles of puppies but I was pretty confident that I had found my limit in incessant honking, pollution, cow shit, stray dogs and being treated like an ATM without a PIN. It was time to start making my way out of the country.

More Pictures…..

Varanasi India. Outdoor Cremation city: https://photos.app.goo.gl/JjG7YWKtsRhvYkGH6