Cow poo, cow poo and more . walking the streets of Varanasi... carefully

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Varanasi is just plain mad. But I loved it. I stayed in the old town, a twisting maze of narrow cobbled streets where I´d often find my way blocked by a cow, obstinately just standing there and refusing to budge without some forceful persuasion. But then in India the cow is king of the road and I´m sure they all know it. There's a hierarchy when it comes to roads here, with the sacred cow firmly entrenched at the top and pedestrians most definitely at the bottom. Between the two comes everything from cycle rickshaws to cars, camel drawn carts and the lethal auto rickshaws whose maniac drivers seem determined to bag the number two slot, even if it means taking out a cyclist or two on the way up.

My first introduction to the city really typified what was to follow. My train was late, it was dark by the time I arrived and the rickshaw driver decided that taking me to where I actually wanted to go was too much trouble and dropped me 10 minutes walk away instead. Not knowing any better I jumped out and was soon swept along in the crowd - it might have been dark but the streets were packed with locals browsing in shops selling everything from saris and mobile phones to household goods, with the occasionally motocyclist or cycle rickshaw trying to edge their way through the crowd. Realising I really had no idea where I was going I asked a shop owner for directions. The answer he gave wasn't one I expected though - pointing over my shoulder he replied ' follow the body'. Turning I found a funeral procession carefully weaving its way through the crowds, the body lying on a stretcher, draped with a gold cloth, strewn with garlands of orange, gold and white flowers and carried high on the shoulders of six men.

So it was that I found myself following a body down through a series of twisting narrow back alleys to the main burning ghat where, carefully edging my way between huge piles of wood and stalls selling funeral paraphernalia, I reached a balcony overlooking the funeral burning pyres. With orange flames flickering brightly against the night sky, the air thick with ash and the smell of smoke and small candles floating passed on the river behind, visiting by night was far more intense than when I returned the next morning!

Hindus are cremated here 24x7 and there are often several ceremonies underway at any one time. The funeral pyres of richer people contain more of the expensive sandlewood but the actual ceremonies are alike for rich and poor, with rules dictating everything from who can attend (i.e. not women) to how many times a son walks round the pyre before lighting it and the new white cloth that they must wear for the ceremony. It takes about two hours for a body to burn, after which the ashes and any remaining bone fragments are collected to be scattered on the waters of the Ganges. Varanasi is an important holy city in Hinduism with many devotes making a pilgrimage here during their lifetime and choosing to be cremated or have their ashes scattered here when they die - apparently being cremated in Varanasi gets you directly into heaven, bypassing the rather more lengthy reincarnation process

I arrived in Varanasi a few weeks after the Mumbai bombings at a time when there seemed to be a very high and visible police presence in the city, particularly around the old quarter. Hotel and restaurant owners spoke of cancelled bookings and how few tourists there were but I enjoyed the supposed quietness of it all, spending hours just walking along the banks of the Ganges, watching life pan out and stopping for chai along the way. A respectful bustle surrounded the burning ghats, colouful kites fluttered in the breeze as children and adults alike practised for an upcoming festival from the rooftops of surrounding buildings, monkeys caused all sorts of mischied, groups of young lads somehow managed to play cricket on long narrow steps, buffalo’s snoozed by the waters edge, people washed both themselves and their clothes in the waters of the Ganges, women in bright coloured saris chatted in groups and boatmen were desperate to sell boat trips along the river. And then there were the seemingly endless piles of cow poo that you had to sidestep along the way.

Next stop was Amritsar in the Punjab, some +24hrs by train from Varanasi it’s a holy city to Sikhs and home to the amazing Golden Temple. The temple dates from the 16th century and before entering I had to remove my shoes (there’s a dedicated shoe cloakroom!), wash my feet and cover my hair - several temple employees, each in a bright orange gown and blue turban, ensured that everyone was appropriately attired before going in. Through the gateway I reached a short flight of steps and its from there that I got my first full view of the Harmandir - the most holy of Sikh shrines and the golden part of the Golden Temple it was at the centre of a large square pool reflecting beautifully in the still water surrrounding it. The pool in turn was surrounded by a white marble walkway, crowded with devotees of all ages who moved, some quickly, others slowly in a clockwise direction, occasionally stopping along the way at shrines or to bathe in its waters. Half way round there was even a separate bathing area for women, screened off from prying eyes.

The Harmandir itself is reached by a 60m long bridge along which pilgrims, women in bright scarves and shalwar kameez, men with their equally colourful turbans, queued patiently with their offerings, waiting for their turn to pray. Covered in copper gilt the Harmandir houses the Guru Granth Sahib, the holy Sikh book, or at least it does during the day - each morning it is bought from another building in the complex, the Akal Takht and returned there each evening. And, as I discovered back in my hotel room later that evening, if you can´t make it to the temple you can always watch it from home live on Golden Temple TV!

Whilst in Amritsar I also hooked up with an American guy and a Canadian couple and headed out to Wagah to watch the daily border closing ceremony. It was seriously the funniest thing I’d seen in ages. The first challenge though was navigating the security searches, two of them, in order to get to the parade area. On each occasion there were two queues, one for women, another for men. No prizes for guessing which was longer. You weren´t allowed to take bags in so it wasn´t that they were taking extra time to search women's handbags, rather whereas men just walked straight through a metal detector (decorative rather than functional I think) and were then waved over with a hand held version, women had to be taken into a seperate screened off cubicle to undergo the whole search process... the result, the queue for women was huge, the equivalent for men was non existent. Men and women were also separated in the seating areas, with a whole different area again just for foreigners. After some initial crowd warming up from the compere (at least on the Indian side which was packed with enthusiastic locals... the seats on the Pakistan side looked distinctly empty) the main event started - lots of foot stamping, double time high leg, arm swinging marching, head high leg kicks, scornful looks and macho strutting around. Finally in the fading light, the flags of the two countries were lowered simultaneously and the gates ceremoniously closed.

Next up, forts, palaces and a marriage proposal... well, almost

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Comments

[AnnaAdventuring]

Your blog makes for fascinating reading. I really enjoyed it. I visited Amritsar 4 years ago but have never made it to Varanasi. Thanks for sharing your experiences. :)

[Aileen]

Fab pictures! I've been to see the border change - it is quite amusing and a bit weird to be segragated!