Varanasi was not, however, the holy refuge from New Delhi that we might have been expecting... It was just as busy, only a bit smaller and had a ton of cow shit deposited in every secret alleyway and open space. Apparently if you die or are cremated on the banks of the Ganges in Varanasi, your soul is lifted from the cycle of reincarnation and you go straight to wherever Hindus dream of going when they die. Subsequently, there is a lot of holy (and unholy) activity going on at all hours of the day and night, on the steps of the giant ghats lining the riverside. People bathing ceremoniously, washing clothes, praying, splashing around, drinking and eating, washing dishes, washing their water buffaloes, selling boat rides, tossing garbage, going to the bathroom, burying their dead... It's an unbelievable sight and just a lot to take in all at once.
On the cremation ghats: At any given time throughout the city, the feint sound of chanting rises in some faraway corner and gets louder and louder until a group of men march by, enthusiastically shouting in unison and carrying on bamboo sticks a colorfully decorated and bedazzled human corpse. Hello sir or madam! They squeeze past passersby in the narrow streets that lead to the cremation ghats, where there are bundles of wood (sandalwood is the most expensive) and specific pyres upon which members of different castes are burned. I almost lost my lunch at the sight of it-- a real burning woman-- and at the smell of it. Once roasted, they are all tossed into the river and bid a final adieu. How anyone can then drink that water is unfathomable to me, but they do. A scruffy kid took us on a boat ride at dawn and proudly explained how only real Indians could drink the Ganges water, and tourists can't because they get sick. Good for you, I thought.
Some highlights: J got a class-A shave right on the Ganges, and now wears a dapper little mustache like everyone else. We had the best lassies in India, and saw a baby monkey electrocuted on haphazard wires above-- and then spring back to life amidst a crowd of cheers! I saw an old man gathering tiny puppies in a hectic alley and tossing them lovingly into a hole in the wall, out of harm's way. India is an intense place-- sometimes little moments like this make a big difference.
From there, we went to Khajuraho and saw those famously erotic temples-- the only ones of their kind to have survived the destruction of Muslim conquerers, who apparently did not appreciate graphic depictions of people doin' it. It had been a tiny dream of mine to someday see those temples in person, instead of in an art history textbook; being there, standing in their long shadows, one hot day in rural India... It was pretty good! We journeyed on to Agra and saw yet another expression of love set in stone: the Taaaaaj Mahaaaal. What a thing of beauty. They call it a "teardrop on the cheek of eternity". Its creator said that "the moon and sun shed tears from their eyes when they saw it". All true! We were expecting a cheesy tourist trap, and were pleasantly blown away. It's so huge, and so mathematically perfect, and in the same pristine condition as the day it was built. It's actually a mausoleum built by a heartbroken king after his favorite wife died giving birth to their 14th child. It took over 20 years to build, and shortly after its completion, the king's son overthrew him and forced him to live in a sort of exile in Agra Fort, where he was able to gaze wistfully at the Taj from a tiny window across the river... For 8 long years. When he died, his tomb was placed next to that of his wife and remains to this day the only asymmetrical component of the whole big thing. An Indian love story for sure
That's enough writing for now. We're rolling on to Rajasthan, the Land of Kings: where mustachioed men in white turbans will sit high on embroidered cushions, exhaling deep plumes of hookah smoke and laughing at our whiteness and our western shoes.
10:00AM
Jodphur, India
J getting Hepatitis
wet sari
this
