Bodies in Varanasi
Wary of rickshaw drivers and there drive from commission we took a pre-paid rickshaw (though they still tried to get us to their hotel) the tiny streets surround the ghats on the side of the river Ganga didn’t along for rickshaws so at the main road I left Merav with out the baggage while i followed one of the drivers through the alley ways to check out a guest house. it was about a 10mintue walk…and i couldn’t help thinking how clever they were to split us up…now we were easier victims…haha no such luck – fresh from the crowds of Delhi we had both been itching to punch the next guy that tried to touch us and make scene.
The back streets were unlike anything I had scene in India so far- as I have said before each place is so different yet more beautiful. When I look back at my photos however I find myself reminded of how immensely beautiful previous places have been and am unable to compare the past and the current. The best thing is not to try. The alley so small and dark were still awash with people and tiny cupboard like shops, squeezing in a vague clearing of buildings was a vegetable market, adding more colour the the painted but peeling buildings and drawing my attention from the cow shit every half meter.
We weren’t heading in a straight line…nor even an Indian straight. We seemed to be turning corners every few seconds weaving deeper and deeper in although some times my orientation told me we must be turning back on ourselves. We reached the large Guest House and I went to see the room the receptionist had told me was free. I understood why he didn’t accompany me as I trasped up the four steep flights and past many guests (he obviously wasn’t desperate to sell us the room at the cheap price I had requested.
Satisfied I mazed back through the ally which would have been impossible without my guide. when I reached the rickshaw after noting that Merav hadn’t been abducted, whispered to her….’Ive just seen my first dead body’. Varanassi is the holy place by the Ganges that Hindus come to die. its a great wish by all to be cremated here then remains to be thrown into the great holy river. As I had been trying to familiarizing myself with the alleys on my way back to the luggage there had been a lot of drumming and noise- a procession led by a shrouded body tied to a wooden stretcher was headed our way. The body adorned in orange cloths and flowers looked almost like it was trying to escape as the men supporting the stretcher strode at different levels on the warped cobble streets.
we were staying near the main marakirna ghat. One of the main burning ghats in Varanasi. bodies are burnt here all day everyday and a holy flame, the flame of Shiva is kept burning through the night. it has been burning for 3000 years continuously. each funeral pire is lit from the holy Shiva flame. we made our way down to the ghat which cant be seen even from higher roof tops due to the close accumulation of buildings adopting a guide on the way who led us to the unmarked house from which non Hindus were allowed to view the holy flames and cremations. I hadn’t known what to expect as respectfully no pictures are allowed, so no one had ever showed me the amazing scene that was played out below me. around 10 large fires burned brightly and we felt the heat on out cheecks two floors up in a building 20ft away.
This building was actually a hospice the dweller told us and other western viewers. The dying would come here in their final days, to spend their final days/hours next to the river and ensure a cremation within 24hours of their soul leaving the body. Down below he pointed out a body shrouded in red cloth almost lost within the blazing grip of one pire- the body of a women we were told, men we could see were shrouded in white. the elder sons would shave their hair and beards before the body was carried through the streets to the ghat the representative of the hospice told us. The sons preformed the important parts of the ceremony by bathing in the river to purify them selfs, they would carry the fire of Shiva to light their parents pire and sprinkle the fire with powdered incense. they would wait 3hours for the body to fully burn then extinguish the fire with water from the river, the lass cup throwing over their shoulder then walking away without looking back.
The remains of the dead would be fished from the ashes, the strongest parts of the body would not burn fully, the hips of women and the chest of a man, these would be thrown into the river. sometimes flaming ashes are sprinkled into the river aswell. not every death is treated the same. The Brahman caste had a separate burning area higher above the river so their bodies are not touched by others flames. Holy men who are pure are thrown into the river without burning with a rock tied to their feet. Children who are also pure get the same treatment as do pregnant women. Strangely I find that if you are lucky enough to be killed by a snake bite you receive a holy death too and join the holy men and children in being thrown whole into the Ganga. Im told this is because a snake is the necklace worn by the god Shiva and so death by snake gives you right to a holier death.
The burning bodies didn’t smell. Bodies waiting to be doused in the water then place upon the piers of flames were laid somewhat unceremoniously on the steps till their fire was ready. All in all it was an amazing accumulation of ceremony taking place. No sadness just repect and smiles, even joking looked to be permitted at we saw smirks and laughs. We were asked for a donation and gladly gave what we could afford for the purchase of wood for poorer familes…it seemed not to be enough however as we were asked for more….they almost didnt take what we offered them.
We ventured round the streets finding all manner of things you could find in a town in India and lost ourselves within the allies finding our way back to the guest house where come morning monkeys would gallop across the congregated tin roof of the roof top cafe.
The next morning I rose around 6am and climbed to the roof top to find a magical sight, in the dark light I could make out the movement of a flame at the rivers edges, the light dancing its way round the angles of the building, the wind flickering the flame through the gaps to my eyes. Then on the water a boat of onlookers passed burning what must have been burning ashes floating on top of the water. The remains of a human. I watched the tiny pin lights till they disappeared. Eerie
Determined not to get lost in the maze of alleys again the next day we took notice of shop names and signs marking our way….we walked down the length of the ghats in the opposite direction from our guest house. The colours of Varanasi, alike with so many other places in Asia were predominantly saffron orange and red, but the sparkle of the saris wre different from the thicker multicolored mirrored dressed we had seen in Rajasthan and in turn different again from the paler floral patterns in the south.
Another body crossed our path, this time an old woman, we were able to tell as this bodies face was uncovered as it was carried through the streets.
The alley ways were just a smaller version of the moving streets of Bangalore, thought each one of these was akin to a secret corridor- if you didn’t take the right turn in on direction there was no getting back on track later on with out turning back…it was like there was only one route to each shop/square/place even though if it straddled several alleyways. We should have left a trail of red cotton behind us as it took us an hour to find the bakery we had ear marked for lunch- logically on 15mins walk away…but this is India.
That night a river boat ride awaited. I dosed up on a pot of chai to make up for the little sleep I had last night and the potenial of another late one. My last night with Merav before he goes to china and I wouldnt see her till the summer.
The boat trip was at dusk which was eerie to say the least. I should add that this is also the foggy time of year in Varanasi due to the cold….and this, was a particularly foggy day. The boat trip we were to take was offered free by our guest house, so we assumed we wouldn’t be the only guest on the boat,…we were wrong. We had the boat and the driver to ourselves.
We started on the ghat just one further then the main burning ghat – Manikanika and our guide rowed us past the bathing men and the floating plastic and towards the flames of the funeral pires. We could feel the heat of the flames again as we sailed slowly past through the ashes and soot that lay in the water….a mixture of burnt wood and flesh. Safforn coloured flowers and red/orange drift in among the ashes.
The ride reminded me of some sort of dark pirate film or of the river of souls in the underworld guarded by Hedes…plus some other myths and legends which featured dark rivers of dead,,,as this was the thing we found strange, remains of hundreds were beneath us and around us in the water, we were floating on the dead. But to all th Indian people this is a way of life, no sadness or remorse is shown in the streets when a bodies passes, just respect, then the people get on with their lives, just as the sons of the dead would when they extinguished the fire with water over their backs and never look back.
Tags: 1, india
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