Varansi, India November 18-22 Written Journal

The river on the banks of Varanasi flows seems to stand still for the hundreds of Hindu's that find these waters to have a special meaning, special spirit, special holiness.

I have walked on the edges of this river, sat viewing the activities occuring in various Ghats (inlets) of this river and I have floated in the morning hours on this river and I still question.

I question the holiness, the various rituals that occur on the shores for there is no holiness evident through my eyes.

The famous Ganges that is the last deposit of all household waste, that has the remains both in ash and in body of the dead, that hundreds bath in, that clothes gets washed in, that many use as their personal toilet, that animals wade in, that they use as a spitting bowl.

To me there is no holiness but an overlaying of decay and filth...as the Hindu's conduct their ritual to the water and drink it, I am careful not to allow the water to touch a piece of my clothing, skin etc. I stand far from the bathers and waders in fear that a splash may come in my direction. I withdraw in haste as many try to grab my hand for entry...I run with fear for a drop of this water would surely be the death of me.

The Ganges, I bow down in respect, for you are obviously holy in my eyes as well.