Monday, 05 November

On arrival, Varanasi, the capital of the northern Indian state Uttar Pradesh, may appear the same as any other Indian city. It is over-populated, noisy, polluted and congested. However there is something particular and unique to this holiest of cities for most Hindus, known as Benares, or Kasi, in the days of old.

Varanasi is the city of the dead and the dying, the abode of Lord Shiva – the annihilator and destroyer. It promises moksa (liberation) from the cycle of birth and death to anybody who leaves his body here and cremated on the banks of the holy river Ganges. Although cremation occurs throughout India, especially all along the Ganges, many sick or elderly people from all over the subcontinent come here to await their end.

Meanwhile, although the many foreign visitors have no intention of dying yet, the sharks are out to prey on pink-skinned victims. With so many package holiday tourists passing through and spending their money so freely, some locals have developed into unpleasant, greedy touts. I quickly discover that in Varanasi a sense of humor is essential for mental health and survival!

In fact, my favourite lodge run by Ashish and Jhuma has not burned down or become a brothel at all. The rickshaw drivers' recommended “cheap and best” hotels would have paid them a handsome commission. I like this good-hearted and honest family offering simple rooms with amazing views overlooking the river at Kedar Ghat.

Tuesday, 06 November

Certainly the stark encounter with life and death, so pronounced on the ghats, contributes greatly to why Varanasi feels so intense. Along the way, India has taught me so much about the realities of life... and indeed death is one such reality – all who live must die, it is the harsh truth. Everything must pass. While everything around us is dying we think it will never happen to us – that is man's greatest madness according to the great epic, the Mahabharata.

I stand a little distance away from the enclosure in which eight bonfires are burning and another ten or so are in the process of being cleaned away or set up. Oddly, a little puppy is playing within the cremation grounds while a goat and a cow are sniffing about for food but nobody seems to mind. The wind blows some ash in my direction and I stare at it landing on my skin. The place smells just like barbeque.

My senses are in over-ride to the extent that I almost feel numb and I find it hard to concentrate on what this man is telling me while I am taking in all the activity, the sights, sounds and smells. There is a powerful, somewhat ominous energy hanging over Omanikarnika Ghat, “the burning ghat.” A couple of shady looking characters are lurking around me, trying to look friendly and give information but no doubt conceiving a way to obtain a “donation for the dying.”

Somehow I am able to follow what is going on. It transpires that each state has its own traditions regarding the cremation ritual and no local rules are imposed. Generally the oldest son is the one to set the body alight. His hair is shaved, he bathes in the Ganges and wears white cloth. Wood is purchased while the body is carried by four people to the river, bathed and smeared in sandal paste, ghee and other balms, wrapped in white linen and sometimes gold cloth.

The body is placed within the wood-pile which has been set up in the appropriate cremation area according to caste: the banks where I stand belong to the lowest caste, the Untouchables. Next further up is for the middle castes, and further up on a roof-top is the cremation area for the high caste, the Brahmins. Apparantly, during the wet season the river swallows up the banks so all, regardless of caste, use the highest burning ground.

The male member of the family who will perform the fire lighting goes to the 'eternal flame.' This is the fire from which all bonfires are started, said to never have stopped burning since 5,000 years. It is not too hard to believe since Varanasi's beginnings are truly ancient while the cremations go on at the burning ghat all day and all night, all the year round, without ever pausing.

A bald man wearing a white dhoti emerges from the building housing the 'eternal flame' and proceeds to turn clockwise around the body five times. He finally holds the smouldering long, dry grass hosting a bit of red-hot charcoal to the feet-end of the wood-pile and the fire slowly begins. Within minutes, flames are swallowing the body to the accompanying sound of creaking bone. For about three hours the fire will be tended to by the “Dom”, the untouchables who have the most exalted job.

There are no women in sight, only tourist women. It turns out that women are simply not allowed, because they get too emotional! Some say that crying captures the soul and does not allow it to merge with Brahman , but that is only part of the story. In the past, some have been so crazed by grief that they threw themselves into the husband's crematory fires. Some would add that back then, such a bleak future prospect existed for the widow within society that many considered death a better option.

Finally, some bones are placed in the holy Ganges, and water taken in a clay pot to put the fire out. Four times this is done facing the fire while the fifth and final time the clay pot with water is thrown over the left shoulder. This marks the putting out of the fire and the family member must leave the area without looking back.

At the next ghat, family members and friends interact for a while and make sweet offerings then finally go home. I am told that after about thirteen days, they will throw a huge party for all! I wish I could witness that too!

Wednesday, 07 November

It is pleasant to sit on the roof-top of our guest-house – a safe, clean and comfortable haven overlooking the picturesque, medieval-looking ghats – and idly chat the evening into the night. Kedar Ghat is comparatively peaceful, although it is only ten to fifteen minutes' walk from the main Dashashwamedh Ghat, which is always a mad bustle. Just beyond is the burning ghat.

I can see three large fires blazing. I think it must be some rich families affording plenty of wood. I have heard how some poorer families would spend their entire life-savings on wood which is barely enough to burn the body, so huge chunks of flesh ended up in the river instead of about the average one kilo and some bones. Interestingly, the last to burn in a male is the chest - “big work, strong heart” - while the last to burn in a female is the pelvis - “nine month baby, strong.”

Nowadays, the electric crematorium in the other direction does the job cheaply. Apparently it is also used for anybody who has suffered an unnatural death, such as by murder, suicide or accident. The ash is collected in a clay pot and the family take a boat to the middle of the Ganges to put the ash in the river.

Ashish is sitting with us this evening. He is making us laugh with his hand gestures to describe which of the dead are not cremated: he solemnly puts his palms together in front of his chest, mimicking a saintly expression when he tells us of the sadhus, the holy men; he makes the shape of a bump on his belly with his hand to tell us of pregnant women; he cradles an invisible baby in his arms to tell us of babies and small children; and he makes a snakes head and body from his right hand and forearm and attacks his left arm to tell us of cobra bites.

The former three categories are not burnt because they are considered pure. They are thus wrapped in cloth with stones for weight and let out to sink in the middle of the river. Yes, sometimes the stones are not enough to keep the body down and I have seen mysterious, large forms floating down the river!

Interestingly, the snake-bite victims are not burned or sunk because they are not considered quite dead. Ashish says that they are placed on a banana-tree boat in the hope that the Ganges will purify the poison out of their system or that a sadhu will bring them back to consciousness from the coma brought about by the poison of Lord Shiva's cobra!

Friday, 09 November – Diwali

Diwali, or Dipavali, is the festival of light. Varanasi would appear to celebrate it every day of the year as the flame offerings to the deities and the holy Ganges and the raging cremation fires are ever-abundant! Still, Diwali is a perfect excuse to wear one's best outfit, binge on milk-sweets and cause a racket with fire-crackers and fire-works....

The hundreds of candles outlining buildings and boats, the party lights and the fire-works overhead create a particular effect even as they shimmer a reflection in the river, where a boat has let out about three hundred floating lights on Mother Ganga and they flow down-stream. The blazing fires from the burning ghats still prominently attract attention.

In every family, kids as young as five are handling fire-crackers, and they cheekily throw them just behind your feet to make you jump! Some swirl, some have a rocket effect, some break into wide and colourful patterns. The fireworks themselves are not as amusing to watch as the child-like behaviour of adults getting overly excited at the prospect of firing 60 rockets into the air!

Diwali is also Kali Puja day. Kali is a rather vicious-looking deity, with a black body, red eyes, tongue out and wearing a necklace of skulls. She is actually considered the Holy Mother, who destroys all negative energies. Hence, as light dispells darkness on Diwali night, this is her night.

Sunday, 11 November

Who would have imagined that three days on the fire-crackers continue? Until stocks last, it seems! The hundreds of lights let out in the river continue night after night. The binging on sweets carries on. Everybody is cheerful and “Happy Diwali” still rings in the ears. Indians love to party, that is little but sure. I would add that the inhabitants of Varanasi appear particularly wild, maybe due to the influence of Shiva-power?

Here I witness the celebration of the passage of death through water and fire and the celebration of a life full of light in the spiral of eternity! This, indeed is India, a land of extremes pushing one to the furthest limits of experience. This is the fire of timeless Benares, the emblem of India.

Episode 22 of Melanie Drury's diary is due on 03 December.

www.melaniedrury.com

[email protected]