Day 170 – Delhi, India – 7:08 AM

My second stop in India was Varanasi, one of the oldest cities on Earth dating back to the 20^th Century BC. Hindus revere it due to its proximity to the Ganges River, a sacred body of water that can wash away sins, cleanse souls and complete the bond between life and death. Hindus from around India and globally journey to Varanasi and partake in a number of rituals along the banks of the Ganges. I read about a number of these customs prior to my travels. But, I wanted to view them in person and for that I needed to venture to Varanasi.

On April 11, I boarded an overnight train from Kolkata to Mughal Sarai, a town seven miles from Varanasi. From Mughal Sarai, I intended to take an auto-rickshaw to the Old City neighborhood of Varanasi and search for an accommodation. (An auto-rickshaw is the Indian version of a tuk-tuk). I have ridden a number of sleeper trains throughout my five months of traveling. I like to think I have a pretty good idea what to expect on overnight trains. However, this is India and you never know if your expectations will turn out correct.

I arrived at Kolkata’s main rail hub, Howrah Station, with the post-work, evening rush. Masses of people entered and exited eager to arrive at their final destination. Businessmen strolled through the station with leather briefcases while others plodded forward with large canvas bags balanced on their heads. Families with children in tow weaved their way through the crowd. I looked at the large, electronic board that hung from the ceiling. Each arriving and departing train was listed on the board with a track number. I stopped, glanced up and found my train. Track 6!! Luckily, I did not have far to walk as Track 6 was directly ahead.

At first I had a hard time locating the correct car.  Staff on the platform was nonexistent and thus provided no help.  Luckily, with the assistance of locals, I located the appropriate car and cabin.  I slid open the door and nodded hello to a gentleman along with a woman and her son.  I placed my large pack under the seat and threw my small backpack on the top bunk.  I sat down next to the gentlemen, relieved to have located my berth for the night.  Within minutes the train lurched forward and we pulled away from Howrah Station.

I eventually climbed up to my bunk and settled in for the overnight journey.  Each bunk was furnished with a pillow, sheet and blanket.  I stretched out, pulled the sheet over my legs, plugged my ears with headphones and fired up a podcast.  It was not long until I drifted off to sleep.

Early the next morning, the sound of someone knocking on our locked cabin door startled me awake.  The gentleman in the bottom bunk crawled out from under his sheet and slid open the door.  The conductor indicated Mughal Sarai was our next stop.  I sat up and started to gather my things.  I slipped on my socks and jumped to the ground. I grabbed both packs and stepped into the narrow hallway outside our cabin.  I turned right and headed in the direction of the closest exit.  I acknowledged the conductor to ensure he knew I was ready. I stood by the exit for ten minutes as the train crawled to a stop next to the platform. The conductor stepped from his small, makeshift “office”, opened a latch and swung the door open.  I stepped down two, metal stairs and into the fresh, early morning air.  The rumble of trains filled the air, easily overpowering chatter from the locals who flowed in both directions.

As I oriented myself on the platform, a man approached and asked if I was heading for Varanasi.  I nodded and he instructed me to follow him to his auto-rickshaw in the parking lot. Why not follow him; I needed to get to Varanasi somehow.  I turned and weaved through the crowd.  Weighed down by both packs, my driver increased the distance between him and I as we climbed one stairwell and walked along a metal catwalk over the tracks below.  To my right the sunlight began to illuminate the surrounding area.

I managed to keep a hawks-eye on my driver’s baldhead through the sea of passersby.  We descended a flight of stairs and ahead of me appeared a large dirt parking lot, lined with auto-rickshaws.  The bald man handed me off to another driver who quoted a price.  I negotiated a bit with him and then climbed aboard.  Other drivers gathered around as they attempted to understand where I wanted to be dropped off.  We eventually pulled from the parking lot and into the morning rush hour.

Makeshift buses shuttling children to school fought for space on the road with rickshaws, cyclists and large dump trucks heading to nearby construction zones.  A slight breeze kicked up the dust as we progressed to the Old City section of Varanasi.  The alleyways just off the Ganges are so narrow that rickshaws are unable to traverse their paths.  My driver indicated as such as we progressed towards my destination.  Crowds, just finishing up their sunrise rituals, shuffled along the streets as we weaved our way towards the Ganges.  My driver pulled off to the side and indicated it was time for me to walk the remaining distance.  I nodded, smiled and handed him his fare.  I threw him a wave and was on my way.

I pulled out a map and navigated a route to my potential destination.  Not too much longer.  I continued onward and felt the gaze of those around me.  By now I am used to being the subject that most stare at as I walk the streets of India.  I understand I look different from most. The road narrowed to a small alleyway barely wide enough for two to pass in opposite directions.

A couple turns later and I arrived at the Puja Guesthouse, my first candidate.  The rooms and linens appeared clean.  That was a positive.  Unfortunately, the rates were a bit too expensive for my budget and I could not convince the receptionist to come down any lower.  I thanked him and decided to continue searching.  I returned to the alleyway and charted my course to Hotel Alka, candidate #2.

I passed a Baba who sat cross legged behind a small wicker basket that did not rise more than four inches off the ground.  There has to be a snake in there, I thought to myself. He nodded when I asked and removed the lid. Sure enough, a cobra rose up and began looking around. Against his chest rested a wooden flute.  I motioned with my hands that I wanted him to play and he began blowing a tune and the cobra swayed back and forth with the beat.  I handed over twenty Indian Rupees and continued on.  I was growing eager to uncover more of Varanasi.

I eventually reached Hotel Alka under a layer of sweat.  I was ready to settle into a room and shed my baggage.  I looked at both fan- and air conditioned-cooled rooms.  While the AC room was a bit more than I intended to spend, I handed over my passport to finalize the check-in process.  Minutes later, I was in my room, resting on top of my bed feeling the cold air rain down on me.

It felt like evening but the clock just passed 9am.  I pulled myself off the bed and descended two flights of stairs to an outdoor patio with attached restaurant.  I found a seat in the shade and flipped through the breakfast options.  I ordered two cheese and tomato sandwiches and a large bottle of water.  As I waited for my order, I walked to the railing of the patio.  Below me flowed the Ganges teeming with activity.  Slow moving rowboats meandered under the mid-morning sun.  Locals and tourists alike walked up and down the wide walkway that ran parallel to the river.

My food eventually arrived and I sat down to break my fast that started the previous night.  Two toasted sandwiches cut diagonally overflowed with tomato and cheese.  While simple, it was delicious and just what I needed to start the day. Once my plate was cleared, I returned to my room for a quick nap.

I had no problem falling asleep and my short siesta ended much to quickly.  I sat up, stretched and readied for the day.  Hotel Alka sits at the northern end of the well-known ghats in Varanasi.  For those that missed my most recent post about Kolkata, a ghat is a series of steps that lead to a body of water, usually a holy river.  I wanted to walk the entire length of walkway from the notable Manikarnika Ghat to Assi Ghat.  I loaded up my small backpack and laced up my shoes.  The temperatures were increasing and the approaching midday heat was unavoidable.  I grabbed my water bottle and secured my room.

I descended to the lobby and hung a left into a narrow alleyway.  I proceeded to a wide, stone stairwell that led to the walkway.  A gentleman stopped me and asked if I wanted to take an afternoon boat ride.  I declined but inquired about a sunrise cruise the following morning.  He quoted me 200 Rupees, or $3.00 USD per hour.  I previously read that most boatmen charge over $4.50 USD per hour for a ride on the Ganges.  His initial quote was under the going rate but I managed to bargain him down to 150 Rupees, or $2.25 USD.  We agreed to meet the following morning at 5am for a two-hour ride on the river. Feeling motivated after my bargain boat trip, I continued down the flight of stairs.

At the base I turned left onto the walkway.  My destination was Manikarnika Ghat, commonly known as the burning ghat. Hindus believe the soul of anyone who is cremated at Manikarnika Ghat rests in everlasting peace. I arrived at the same time a body, wrapped in linen cloth, was brought forth for cremation. It was dipped in the Ganges and placed atop a bed of wood. Cremations occur around-the-clock and are accompanied by religious chants and the playing of music. The sights and sounds at Manikarnika ghat were very eye opening and something I never experienced in the past.  I wanted to remain longer but additional sites and ghats beckoned me.

The walkway was quiet as I progressed south. Many seek the shaded shelter of their homes or hotels during the afternoon hours to escape the heat.  I continued past a number of ghats.  Some were empty while soul-cleansing bathers occupied others.  To my left flowed the Ganges and to my right, aged buildings of various colors loomed overhead.  Wild dogs roamed looking for food while cows lumbered freely anywhere they chose. Local children gathered into groups to play pick-up cricket. I continued along.

I proceeded all the way to Assi Ghat, roughly two miles from my accommodation.  Each time I stopped for a sip of water I could feel my t-shirt, drenched in sweat, stick to my skin. Temperatures soared over 100 degrees.  On the trip back to Hotel Alka, I decided to traverse the maze like system of alleyways rather than retracing the walkway.  I climbed a flight of stairs and entered a passageway not more than a few feet wide.

Cows, motorbikes and pedestrians now maneuvered for space in these narrow thoroughfares.  Storefronts lined these congested avenues and their clientele further reduced the space.  They sold clothes made of silk, drinks, food and an assortment of other goods.  It reminded me of the backstage area at a theatrical production, with the Ganges and walkway being what the audience views from their seats.  Back in the alleys, or behind the curtain, Varanasi teems with activity that most tourists fail to observe.

I managed to find my way back by trial-and-error and after passing in front of the same storefront a few times.  It was nearing 3pm and I decided to escape to my room and rest before taking in the evening rituals nearby.  A little after 430pm, I descended to the attached restaurant for a bite to eat before my second foray onto the walkway.  I ordered a pasta dish, garnished with vegetables and cheese.  It was far from an Indian meal but it reminded me of home and tasted delicious.

Shorty after 6pm, I strolled back to the walkway and ventured over to Dashashwamedh Ghat for the evening ritual of Aarti. Aarti is a Hindu celebration that pays homage to the sun, the moon, the Ganges River and Lord Shiva. Brahmin, a Hindu caste that includes priests and scholars, employ incense, prayers, and fire to evoke reverence in the crowd of onlookers. Followers of Hinduism believe after viewing the Aarti they are purified and a number of blessings are conferred upon them. The vacant walkway that I traversed hours earlier now overflowed with those looking to pay their respects. After the hour-long ceremony concluded I returned to my room at Hotel Alka to prepare for my upcoming sunrise cruise. I charged both Nikon batteries and ensured I had proper funds on hand.

I jumped out of bed the following morning and threw on shorts and a t-shirt.  I packed my bag and set off from my room at 4:45am.  The first hurdle I ran into was attempting to exit the hotel property. Both exits were locked.  This was not a surprise nor was I alarmed.  It is common for accommodations to secure exterior doors and gates during overnight hours.  Luckily, the manager was sleeping in the office and I regrettably woke him to unlock the gate.  He did just that and I walked in a brisk manner to make up lost time.  Activity was beginning to pick up on the walkway at this hour and I made it to the meeting place with minutes to spare

A local boy approached and tried to sell me on a sunrise boat tour.  I told him I already had a driver lined up who should be arriving any minute.  However, this is India and anything is possible.  I told the boy to stand by in case I needed a last minute replacement.  5:00 am; no boatman.  5:05 am; nothing.  I turned to the boy and told him I would give my original offer another five minutes and then I needed a replacement.  I began to haggle on a price and we agreed on 250 Indian Rupees per hour.  While more expensive than my original offer, I was desperate and needed a boat.  Five more minutes passed and my boatman was a no show.

I turned to the boy and gave him a nod.  He had a customer.  We walked down a flight of stairs and approached a mid-sized rowboat.  A gentleman sauntered over and spoke with the boy.  He turned out to be the actual boatman; the boy was only the salesman.  We stepped aboard and took our seats. I sat towards the bow and he at the rear.  We slowly plodded south towards Assi Ghat taking in the morning rituals on the Ganges.  Bathers descended stone steps to submerge in the river.  To my left, the sun peeked over the horizon and quickly ascended into the sky.  I snapped photo after photo as the morning progressed.

We continued south through the smooth, calm waters.  My guide wanted to extend the trip for a third hour but I did not want to spend an additional 250 Rupees.  We turned around and began our slow journey back.  I offered to take over and row for a bit.  My driver smiled and motioned for me to grab the oars.  We switched positions and he received a short respite.  It is one thing to paddle around a rubber boat in Cape Cod Bay but another to row a 15-foot wooden boat on the Ganges River.  I found it difficult to maintain a consistent course and began snaking my way north. The traffic on the river had increased and my guide grew nervous with me in command.  We soon switched back and continued on. We arrived at our point of origination and I paid my boatman his 500 Rupee fee.  It was an exhilarating experience to view the rituals from a boat on the Ganges.  Certainly money well spent.

I set out on this round-the-world journey to experience cultures and rituals unlike those I am accustomed. I knew I would find what I searched for in India and in Varanasi specifically. Although my time in Varanasi was brief, my time along the Ganges River provided me all this and more. The sights and sounds will remain etched in my memory as the weeks, months and years progress.

 

* I apologize for the lack of posts and photographs recently. The last ten days in India have been occupied with long train rides and exploration of local areas. I have taken over 4,000 photographs since arriving and it takes time to sort through them. These factors, in addition to poor or nonexistent wireless Internet has made it difficult to publish material on Perpetual Footsteps in a timely manner. Please forgive me, additional posts and photos are coming!