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Published: August 29th 2009
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Walking down the streets of Delhi, a man comes up to me and asks if I'd like to get my ears cleaned. Since I couldn't remember the last time I had'em cleaned, I figured why not? Now, I don't feel like my ears are particularly dirty, but the amount of gunk he pulled out of it was incredible. Gobs of wax. Icky icky gobs. He dug in so deep that it felt like he was tickling my brain. And at 10 rupees a ear I was getting the deluxe service and quality customer care one would expect of a professional ear cleaner.
This is what India has been for me. It's been a string of vignettes about strange cultural experiences that make me feel awkward or without words. By the end, it's not that I'm over all the weird things that happen but I've just learned that strangeness is standard here and you better get used to it if you want to enjoy yourself.
Varanasi was my second Indian city. I knew it was on the way to Nepal and it was some holy city. I didn't know how holy. This place is the end-all be-all holy of
hollies in India. There is a lot of lore about why Varanasi is so particularly special, but the most obvious one is that it rests on the banks of the Ganges. Despite it's divine rank, the Ganges is horrible disgusting and dirty. Anything in normal daily life that requires water is done in the same water at the same time. Washing clothes, doing dishes, defecation, relieving, swimming, and bathing. Oh and chuck your garbage. To clean clothes there, they dunk the laundry in the water, put it on a rock, and smack it as hard as they can with a stick and beat the dirty out of it. I've been told it works and that GE is looking into marketing it. I was at a funeral pyre, where they were cremating the bodies, and when they finished the burning they take the ashes and put them in the water. If you die in Varanasi, you go straight to heaven. No need to reincarnate. Do not pass 'Go'. So if you gotta leave this world, then this is the best terminal to take off from.
Now they burn the body to free the soul of impurities. No crying is allowed
at the ceremony. If you cry, you bring the soul back to worldly attachments and ruin his chance of freedom. Also no women are allowed because I was told they get too emotional at funerals. At least they don't have to jump in the fire with their husbands anymore. Oh, but if you are a child, leper, or a pregnant women, your soul is already pure and in no need of cremation. But Professor Pete, if they don't burn the bodies, what do they do with the bodies then? Chuck them in the holy Ganges, of course. But now, to the comfort of everyone I'm sure, they tie the bodies to rocks so they don't float on the surface of the water and get in the way of boat traffic.
In the evening, you can see lots of monkeys jumping from roof top to roof top stealing food along their way. You have to close your windows or they could come rob you. You can also find a litter of kites cutting into the sky. Kids everywhere are professional kite enthusiasts and you can see them working their kite like a puppet on every other roof top.
The
morning on the Ganges is the most active time of day. Droves of people come to down the steps and cleanse themselves (called Pujab). Hundreds of men dressed in orange retrieve water from the river and bring it through the dense markets to their sacred temple. Holy Babas with long dreadlocks wash their hair in the river. Women push little leaf-boats with candles into the water. The list of activities and rituals done is endless. Plenty of snake charmers as well.
Despite Varanasi's immense interest, it's too bloody hot to deal with for too long. So moving along west with a french couple and a crazy Spaniard we were to hit Delhi and move north from there. When we arrived in Delhi, the Spaniard was severely ill. We had travel and been eating all the same food for the past three days, yet he had come down with some sort of stomach problem. Constant vomiting, couldn't hold any food down, muscle seizures - you know, fun stuff. So we go to the hospital to see what could be done. Loads of people at the desk of this one doctor who was in charge of the ER. They put Jose
on the bed and asked me what the symptoms were. He filled out a prescription and told me to go across the street and buy the medicine from the chemist. So I ran across the street, waited in line, bought the drugs, and ran back. They injected him with meds to keep him from seizuring and to keep him hydrated and to kill the pain. We did some x-rays (why? I don't know) and without any real blood diagnosis they said probably a stomach infection and gave him some other meds to help. The whole event cost maybe $5. But the problem never got better as he couldn't keep down the medication and so he hopped on the next flight to London. He claimed that a Thali dish we had a week before was the cause and he had felt strange ever since he ate it. If the waiter had just switched our plates, that could have been me. Scary! Lucky I have an iron stomach.
I caught up with the french couple who had already begun their trek north. They had gone up to Amritsar and there was supposed to be some cool temple made of gold. No
no no, this wasn't just some temple. This was the
Golden Temple - the holy place of all Sikhs everywhere. This is a complex where members of all creeds and religions may enter, though everyone must cover their head and enter barefoot. It is a pilgrim site and every night thousands of people sleep on whatever space they can find around the temple. There is a great communal kitchen where over 40 thousand people are fed everyday free of charge. On some holidays they feed over 100,000 people. The complex finds funding from Sikhs all around the world and prides itself on providing such services open to everyone. Sikhs are usually identified by a few of their religious characteristics. One is that they may never cut their hair and they usually have it wrapped in a turban. Also it is mandatory to wear some arm, like a knife, sword, or spear at all times. Even when they bath they keep their knifes wrapped around their head.
Everyone is incredibly friendly and are happy to share their culture with you. In all the places I've been, this is one of my absolute most favorite. To see thousands of people volunteering together, eating, sleeping, and relaxing with everyone else is just something extraordinary.
Find out what happens at the Dali Lama's house next time in 'Heart of India' part II.
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rheece
non-member comment
sounds nice
im flying soon from south africa to mumbai, and then taking a train to dehli where i will spend six months learning tabla from an amazing master. this piece i just read makes the idea of india just ten times better, cant wait to delve into that crazyness, away from conservative south africans :) i have only very little money to use in india, so if i could get tips about cheap travel, cheap ( healthy ) meals, and all that would be greatly appreciated tuwa.spirit@gmal.com