Varanasi

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There are only five of us in my Peregrine group. There were too many for one group so they spit it up and my companions are four women all from Geelong. The other group is more like the United Nations, which might have been interesting in terms of conversation but I'm not complaining.

Despite travelling on a 1st class sleeper (the best of five classes of travel on India Rail) the carriage was very old, badly maintained and grimy. However I did sleep reasonably okay on the narrow top bunk but the 12hr journey typically turned into 15hrs by the time we reached Varanasi where our hotel was a welcome oasis.

Being a bit of a train buff the trip was interesting though, particularly seeing working prime moving diesels that would have been obsolete in Oz more than 40 years ago. The carriages however probably should have been scrapped even before I was born and I won’t mention the toilets for the benefit of those who may be about to sit down to a meal.

As a point of interest, Indian Rail is the undisputed largest employer in the World.

Having backpacked around much of South America and more recently in Vietnam, I thought that I would be somewhat used to seeing poverty but I was mistaken. No amount of documentaries, photos or experience was going to prepare me for the sorrowful poverty I’ve witness, particularly adjacent to the rail lines, so far in this massive democratic country of more than one billion people.

Surrounding islands of indulgent compounds for the rural rich, a sea of poverty exist in sprawling makeshift or mud brick dwellings, which are either damaged or destroyed annually by the monsoon, only to spring up again in the dry season. These armies of lower caste people seem to exist only to grow crops or provide and service the luxuries of the upper castes.

Amongst this backdrop of poverty, dust and pollution, clean-faced smiling children in immaculately laundered school uniforms emerge as if stepping out from another universe to negotiate the gauntlet of traffic or hour-long walks to school. Bursting at the seams with kids, those crumbling edifices turn out an of astonishing number of educated students who often go on to University; in fact India now claims the highest percentage of students who finish school going on to complete university degrees.

Given that most of these people are poor, they appear to be accepting of their fate. Despite all that however they are generally happy and only too willing to talk to us; to ask us where we come from and, of course, about cricket, a subject of which I am happily ignorant.

A very early wake up this morning saw us on the Ganges River watching the Hindu bathing rituals being performed at dawn. I felt like a bit of a Peeping Tom watching these people carry out their obligatory religious ablutions but it was colourful and I guess one not to be missed. My real concern was the number of tourists photographing the funeral fires, which are traditionally set ablaze at dawn and which should be treated with some respect. Without going into the gruesome detail, suffice to say that relatives often cannot afford enough timber to completely burn the body and the remains are cast into the river for the crocodiles – not in public I might add with relief.

From here we move on to Agra and the Taj Mahal. Ciao for now.

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Photos

Typical alley in Dubhi
Check out the wiring which the Government intend to put underground??

Rural children on water pump
Probably only 5 or 6 these kids are already working a full day.

Typical school child
This child emerged from a crumbling cottage in immaculate uniform.

Different type of school?
I wonder what the curriculum is??

Rajish and me
My new best Indian mate.