Mornings in Varanasi, illustrated
[* All asterisked subjects are illustrated in order below]
Mornings are my favorite time in Varanasi. I get up at first light and head out through the narrow winding galis* (alleys) to the Dashashwamedh Ghat. It’s the big busy colorful ghat, so of course it’s my favorite.
I make sure the night before to get money changed into coins so I have a pocketful to give as alms to the beggars who line the stairs* leading down to the ghat itself. It is good karma work to give alms here. I’m sure I need it. Some people give bananas or rice but I give money because I figure that is the attachment that needs to be broken, for someone from the west.
Once down on the steps of the ghat itself, I usually head first for one of the holy men who sit at little puja tables under the tarps that cover the whole area. On the table there is a pile of marigold flowers, short lengths of twisted rope, shells with different colored pastes, incense, and a metal urn full of water. I sit down cross-legged in front of him while he says prayers of blessing and applies the paste in two dots – first white, then red – on my forehead. Then I hold out my hands, with the right hand on top, for him to put a marigold and piece of rope in it*. I put the left hand over the right and hold my hands together in a posture of prayer. He asks my surname and then prays some more. Next comes the part I’m not so good at – repeating the prayers, in Hindi or maybe in Sanskrit, I’m not sure, but they say them very, very slowly and clearly for me. At this point of the trip, I am generally used to being treated like a small, not too bright child, and accept it happily. When we are done, he touches my head in blessing again, and I drop a small coin in the metal urn. I go down to the river to give the flower and rope as a puja offering.
After I’ve done this, I just relax in the shade and watch life happening all around – people bathing, washing, fussing over the bride and groom of wedding parties*. When chai wallahs come around, I get a clay cup* of hot, sweet chai to drink quickly before smashing it on the stone stair. Clay shards are much of the litter that the sweeper ladies clean up during their frequent rounds.
After a few cups of chai, the air starts to heat up and I get hungry. So it’s back through the galis to the Brown Bread Bakery for a bowl of muesli, yogurt, fruit and honey. And so my day begins.
Tags: Varanasi
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