According to the Lonely Planet India, otherwise known as "my bible", Varanasi is one of the oldest consistently inhabited cities in the world. It has been knocked down and rebuilt a few times, but it continues to exist. If I remember correctly, the ancient name of Varanasi is Kashi... google it.
I arrived to Varanasi so proud of myself that I had gotten on the right train and gotten off at the right stop all by myself. I was immediately shuffled into an auto-rickshaw by a guy trying to convince me to stay at a guesthouse of his friend. I emphatically declined and was convinced to stay at the guesthouse that works with the Brown Bread Bakery, a German organization who engages in development work and receives a percentage of the guesthouse bill for the Live for Life (something like that) foundation. The rickshaw-wallah (man) drops me off in front of an alley telling me at 5am that I need to wander down these alleys to find the right place. After some hesitation, I pay the man and head down the alleys. Within 10 minutes, I feel a bucket of presumably dirty water being dumped on my head. I was pissed! I look up see someone's linens out to dry and I assume that's where the water came from. On purpose or a thoughtless mistake, I don't really care. Luckily, I'm already filthy from the travel and the hot muggy weather. I continue down this maze of back alleys and tiny streets littered with sleeping people, and ask a few people along the way where this bakery is. Most aren't so sure. A very short man in a surong is trying to convince me to follow him, saying their are 3 guesthouses when I run into Spanish guys looking for the same bakery. I tell them that I'm a little uncomfortable and am gonna stick with them, only to have them wish me well on my way. (in my head at this moment: F this city, I'm gonna see the burning places and get the heck out of here!) I follow the short man and eventually the Spanish guys show up again headed to the same guesthouse I am and invite me to join them in checking that one out. We head in, I check out a few rooms and pick one. I shower and sleep.
When I wake up, I'm feeling a bit groggy and read the Varanasi chapter in the Lonely Planet. I basically just wander out of the guesthouse to start figuring out where the heck I am. I am immediately shuffled into a massive crowd of people heading towards the fires. Dead bodies burning. I get skiddish and convince this 'guide man' that I'd rather watch from afar, with respect to the families, and secretly for my own comfort. I finally rid myself of this mans unwanted company and start heading back to my guesthouse in an effort to make sure I remembered where it was. Before I get there, another guy starts talking to me. I start to brush him off when he starts saying, "that's the problem with you tourists. You want to come see the sights, but you don't want to learn. Why did you come to India?" I eventually let this guy talk me into sitting for a cup of chai (tea) and I'm glad I did. This guy was actually really cool. I met a few of his friends and spent the next few days hangin around the city with them.
On my first day there, I attended a Shivah ceremony filled with smoke, loud drums, incense, an old holy man with grey dreads, and the loud chimming of the thick bronze bells. We were in a circle in the small Shivah temple. Outside the window was a few other foreigners sitting and listening to a man explain to them about the burning ghat. Past them was the ritual burning of bodies.
Here's what I learned:
The bodies must be burned within 24 hours of death. The family pays for the wood, which is relatively cheap, and the bodies take about 4 hours to burn. The family stays in the area while the body is burning and take the time to wash in the Ganga (Ganges). On women, the hips are the last thing to complete burning and on men, it is their chest. This is because the chest is most strong in men from hard work and the hips are most strong in women from child birth. After the burning of the body, the family returns to someone's home for a small ceremony. The women do not attend the burning because one time a women jumped in the fire. Also, nobody cries. Tears are believed to taint the burning in some way (i forget exactly). The bodies are burned to get rid of the person's sins before they are returned to where they came from, the Ganga. There are 4 types of bodies that are not burned because they are already pure: a pregnant women, a child, a person with lepracy, a Brahmin, or a holy man. These bodies are brought on the same stretchers as the burning bodies but are wrapped in a light cloth. They are then tied to a large cement slab and some of the family takes the body on a boat to the middle of the river, where the body is ceremoniously dropped into the water. Sometimes, the bodies come undone from the cement and this is when you see bodies floating down the river. The Ganga is seen as the holy Mother for people all over India. The people who have the job of actually burning the bodies are of a lower class. They gather the ashes and empty them into the Ganga, also sifting for gold. If bones are found not fully cremated, they are taken on a boat and dropped in the middle of the Ganga. Also, every evening there is a ceremony performed by two Brahmins that is dedicated to the Ganga.
Spending time in Varasani, it is impossible not to see the procession of a family chanting a mantra, carrying the body of a loved-one on a bamboo-made stretcher. The body is cover with a bright, gold colored cloth. I think they burn at least a hundred bodies a day at the burning ghat, the main holy burning sight. There are many other places throughout India that are appropriate for burning, but this one has a special significance. It is inappropriate for people to take pictures of the burnings or of the procession of the dead bodies.
The city of Varanasi is a mix of tiny old streets, almost resembling those of parts of old Jerusalem. The streets are packed with people and lined with food, cotton clothing, and silk shops. There also cows and buffalo who add to this interesting little place. I loved sitting on the empty steps of an unused building, sipping chai and watching as the buffalo wade in the water. They dip there heads just slightly and seem to be in utter enjoyment as the cool water slides over their face. I didn't know until this trip that buffalo and cows could swim. This is the high season for the Ganga and it was interesting to see pictures of beach and parts of the city that are under water 3 months out of the year. Everything moves up, into the city as the water rises. A friend explained to me that normally, the burnings are much lower and they are separated by class. He said one thing he liked about this time of year is that all the burnings are done together, regardless of class. This is the young person's mind next to ancient tradition.
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