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Published: March 5th 2010
Father Anthony had invited us to come and spend some time in the seminary that he runs just outside Varanasi. We politely declined, mostly because I was beginning to feel ill, and was in desperate need of a bathroom, but I didn't want to confess this to the priest! He gave us his phone number and encouraged us to ring him if we had any problems while in Varanasi. We shook hands and then he was lost in the crowd of passengers. On the platform we rang our hostel to avail of their free pick up service. We were told to find the tourist information bureau and wait for them to arrive. Thirty minutes later a guy arrived and guided us out of the train station and into a waiting tuk-tuk.
The tuk-tuk took off into a maze of vehicles, weaving through the streets of Varanasi. More cows, goats and blaring horns. We are getting more used to this mode of travel though - I flinch less often when another vehicle comes careering towards us! Eventually the tuk-tuk brought us down a side alley, past a large pile of wood, and came to a halt in front of the Sonmony
Hotel. We hopped out, and as Philippe was filling in the check-in book, we were asked to pay the tuk-tuk driver. After we argued that the pick-up is advertised as free on the website, a fake phone call was made to 'the boss', and we were let off the eighty rupees that the driver wanted. Eighty rupees is the equivalent of just over one euro, but I couldn't pay, on principle - because these guys were clearly just going to pocket the cash.
The atmosphere was tense as we were led up three flights of stairs to our bedroom. The
only good thing I can say about the room was it had a good view. By good, I mean unimpeded. The view was of dead bodies being cremated in a pile of wood on the edge of the Ganges river. Varanasi is considered to be the most holy city in Hinduism, and it is the greatest honour you can bestow on a loved one to bring them here to be cremated, as apparently it frees them from the cycle of coming back in the next life, and gives them eternal rest.
I had chosen the hotel because it
was near a burning ghat, but as we watched the process, I wasn't so sure I'd made the right decision. It was strangely fascinating, but by the time you've seen a few fires lit, you become detached from the whole process. The stench of burning flesh was ever present, and every so often we heard a new body arrive in a wave of chanting and bell ringing. Once the fire was lit, the crowd of chanters dissipated and it didn't seem like anyone waited with the body.
The pile of wood out the front of the hotel belonged to the burning ghat company. Apparently it is a great skill to be able to weigh out the exact amount of wood required to completely burn a body, leaving no waste. A cremation can cost a lot or a little, depending on which type of wood is used. Our hotel was near the Harishchandra Ghat and there was usually a fire burning for most of the day. However this was not the biggest burning ghat. That was upriver. We planned on seeing it the next day.
There were very few restaurants in the area of the hotel, and we were
still suffering culture shock, so we were happy enough to have dinner in the roof top restaurant belonging to the hotel. We had breakfast there the next morning and then set out to discover the city. The burning ghat next to our hotel was quiet. We walked by it, and along the ghats, watching the locals and pilgrims washing themselves and their laundry in the Ganges river. A little square of text in our lonely planet told us that the water was septic, and when you see the ashes and other refuse being dumped into it, you can only imagine how toxic it must be. We resolved there and then not to send our clothes out for cleaning while in Varanasi!
We had an enjoyable walk in the sun on the bank of the ghats towards Meer Ghat, where we took a left into the city to find the Brown Bread Bakery, which was mentioned in the guide as somewhere to buy western food. When we found it, it was a comfortable cafe but the food tasted very bland. It was probably just normal food, but we have been overloading our taste buds with spices for the past three
days, so everything else tastes boring.
We meandered back through the tiny side streets, stopping only to buy some loose fitting clothes for me. I decided that I need to take steps to try to blend in more, as the staring is getting a little disconcerting. While they are definitely more used to tourists in Varanasi, Kolkata has managed to make me paranoid.
We took a boat at the Dasawamedh ghat, paying about five euros to spend an hour being rowed up and down the Ganges. Our guide, who was also the rower, was a teenage boy with a name that sounded something like 'Parker'. He spoke enough English to strike a deal, but once we were on the boat, his knowledge decreased rapidly. As we asked what certain buildings were, we got a broken reply that left us none the wiser. Nonetheless it was an enjoyable tour. Parker pulled us up very close to the Manikarnika Burning Ghat and told us that there are cremations there 24/7. We sat there for about five minutes and soon a man approached us, angling for us to contribute to the cost of the wood. Had we thought that he belonged
to the family of any of the bodies that were being cremated, we would have handed over cash, but this guy was nothing to do with them, so we brushed him off.
It is getting more and more difficult to trust anyone in India. Many of the people we interact with appear to be on the make. That said, we have met some extremely friendly people who have wanted nothing other than to help us on our way. It has left us with very mixed feeling about India.
We docked back at Dasawamedh Ghat in time for the
ganga aarti ceremony. It is a free event, with several religious figures performing a worshiping ceremony. The non-religious locals take the opportunity to sell, sell, sell. And beg. The only things we bought were two ten rupee candles which we lit and liberated on the edge of the river while making a wish. The ceremony was a loud affair, in a language that we don't understand. We didn't stay long, and instead walked quickly back to our hotel in the dark for dinner in the rooftop restaurant.
The next day we checked out, and waited in the restaurant until
it was time to go to the train station. After refusing to take the hotel taxi, spotting the wrong change that was slyly returned to us at reception, and having to pay the tuk-tuk driver in a petrol station so that he could afford the fuel, we were eventually dropped in front of Varanasi train station. We had about 90minutes to spare, so we queued up to buy our next train ticket. This took an hour, and when we finally managed to secure a ticket to Delhi, the train to Agra still wasn't announced.
In the end we had about twenty minutes to get to the other end of the train station. We hadn't managed find any snacks for the trip, so we grabbed some samosas and crisps from a street vendor and ran the length of the train to try and find our carriage. On board we realised that our berths were in a section with only other foreigners. There was a Aoigh, the smiling Japanese girl, Sue, an older lady travelling India on her own, and a loved up German couple. It was strangely comforting to be surrounded by tourists.
We chatted amiably and soon retired
for the night. Sadly I couldn't sleep as I was feeling unwell. The train couldn't have reached Agra soon enough for me. We were due to pull into Agra station at six a.m. As it wasn't the last stop for the train, at quarter to six Philippe and I began looking out the window for signs of the city.
As we approached the city the sun was rising, and as daylight dawned we saw many moons. There is nothing quite like the sight of a row of bare Indian arses, mid-dump, to jump start your day. We
had to look out of the window to know when we were at the station, but wanted to avert our eyes as the train passed arse after arse. Some were facing the train, others had their backs to us. It was hard to decide which method was preferable!
It was clearly part of everyday life to walk to the waste land by the train tracks with your bottle of water and squat and do your business. There we lots of people there. The oddest thing was, those that were facing us, were staring at us, as if we were the odd
ones out! It certainly made for a disturbing but entertaining welcome to Agra!
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Eileen
non-member comment
I'm disappointed you didn't show a picture of the mooners