When I traveled to India, I spent a great deal of time researching my itinerary and the beautiful places I would be visiting. Varanasi was the first place that merely the description caught my attention. Varanasi, located in the Uttar Pradesh region, is known as the spiritual capital of India. Many Hindus believe that death in the city will bring them salvation, and stop them from the seemingly endless cycle of reincarnation. It was a place that supposedly represented death. To me, it represented a place that was the polar opposite of what I’ve known and experienced. When I arrived, it did not fall short of these expectations.
I was warned before we headed to the evening aarti ceremony by the ghats that this would be an example of the busiest India that I would most likely experience. This forewarning was the most truthful comment I’ve ever received.
The small bus we took couldn’t make it all the way through town, so we had arranged rickshaw rides for our group through to the “pedestrian” area (I will explain more about this later). The rickshaw ride took about 20 minutes or so, and would have been shorter, but crowds like this prevented us from moving quickly.
I expected to be overwhelmed by the chaos, and instead I felt an incredible sense of calm. I hate crowds, I hate loud noises, I hate not feeling in control, and this experience should have been the epitome of all of those personal demons.
It wasn’t. I am not sure if it was being above it all in the rickshaw, but I remember looking around, taking it all in as each brash honk blasted in my ear.
They say Varanasi is a holy city, it is a spiritual place. Even without knowing that, you could easily feel that energy as you walked down the “pedestrian” area (I use quotes because you still had to weave your way through motorbike traffic, I guess they don’t count!). As we reached the banks of the river, you could look out and see the vastness and stillness of the water. It was then that I started to understand the importance of the the water to the Hindu people.
As a Cancer (water sign), I feel I am naturally drawn to water, and after experiencing the busiest streets I have ever walked on, I felt even more zen. Looking around, observing the cows lying down, to the hindu holy men walking around covered in ash, I recognized that I was most certainly not in Kansas anymore.
Before we headed to see the cremations on the bank of the river, we stopped in to a small Hindu temple dedicated to Shiva. Here we had a blessing and got to experience the most mesmerizing chanting I’ve ever heard. The vibrations filled my soul with an energy I could only attribute to the blessings they were bestowing upon us. I am still wearing the red string they placed on my right hand to carry those blessings with me.
Following that incredible experience, and in a more meditative mood, we headed to the boats where we were silently rowed close to the very private cremation ceremonies. Having lost my grandfather this year, I know how private mourning and dealing with that grief can be in the Western culture. It was so foreign to me how public and “normal” death seemed to be here. I didn’t quite know how to process this, but I stepped back and recognized that grief and death is a part of life, and people should be celebrated, and there is something beautiful in dealing with grief as a community.
From there, we went to the evening aarti ceremony, which is performed daily, and is the ritual of putting the river gods to sleep. The music, words, and lights created a frenzy of stimulation in my mind and I tried to absorb it all.
That evening as we walked back through the streets, I couldn’t really focus on the sights and smells that surrounded me. It was the first time I experienced such a level of poverty, and chaos in the streets, odors both pleasant and foul, loud honking, not understanding where and how to walk without bumping into 5 people or getting hit by a car. Then you look around and you see smiles, people helping people, families holding their children’s hands, and you realize – this isn’t a place all about death, this is life.