Persistence

It’s very intense here. Filthy, smoky (from cremations), cows and sadhus cram the streets. I like it but I think if I hadn’t got used to travelling in India it might have freaked me out. Everywhere guys are trying to sell me hash. I can’t think of anything worse, its trippy enough already.

Even after 3 months of being in India I find it overwhelming. You can’t walk a minute without someone trying to grab your attention to sell you something. Hello, boat? Boat? Hash? Hello? Where are you going? What are you looking, sir? Still, as you are hardening to it all, a small child will catch you unaware with a completely genuine cry of “Hello – what’s your name?” With a smile that melts your heart. Completely open and innocent.

I think I am the only white person in this city without an SLR camera. It’s a bit weird. Thousands of normal (extremely poor) people going about their lives and hundreds of tourists trying to photograph them at it. Many of these people have no water in their homes, some have no homes, so they are bathing in the river. And we are photographing them with equipment worth more than their entire belongings. I find it a bit disturbing, but of course I am a part of the parade.

Varanasi is an intensely holy city. Its position on the Ganges, the most holy river in India for Hindus, brings pilgrims, sadhus (holy men usually in orange robes), and people who wish to die here, or be cremated here. It all happens on the banks of the river, on steps or The Ghats. Mostly people come to bathe in the water. Some out of necessity, others as a holy rite. The water is septic, utterly filthy, with raw sewage but also chemicals from factories upstream. It doesn’t seem to stop many.

Cremation on the banks of the Ganges is as good as it gets for Hindus. Canadian families of Indian descent will bring ashes of loved ones to the river to scatter them. My guest house is close to the most famous “burning ghat”, where the cremations take place on huge piles of wood. It’s a bit gruesome, but on the other hand I find the open approach to death ultimately more healthy than the approach in the West which is to hide it and try to deny it ever happened. Still, when you walk through the smoke from these enormous pyres its pretty disgusting, I gotta say.

I don’t get it, people shit and piss in the open, are cremated openly, yet you never see a couple kissing or even a married couple holding hands. That is taboo. We all living by these rules about what is OK and what isn’t OK in public, but it seems so arbitrary, so ridiculous. Not just here, but everywhere.

Away from the river, the Old City is a maze of narrow ancient and filthy streets. Among the crowds of people are hundreds of soldiers and police in brown uniforms with rifles and machine guns slung over their shoulders. They are here because the most important Hindu temple of Varanasi is here, and there is always the chance extremist Muslims will want to blow it up. In front of every alleyway and street leading to the temple are 10 or so soldiers looking like they mean business. I saw a soldier scan a schoolboys little knapsack on his back with one of those airport scanners. To the boy it seemed routine, but to me a depressing situation. It’s disgusting to see religion hijacked by radical elements. You almost want to do away with all religions if they can’t get along peacefully.