Life and Death on the Holy Ganges

Varanasi, the city of death pyres and the holy Ganga waters. A place I have always wanted to see and experience. Alas at 5.30am after a long night travelling in Indian class for less than a pound had me dusty and tired. The plateau of Indias Northern Utter Pradesh is definitely not a hospitable place for those coming from the mountain air. During my stay we topped the mercury at 47C so you can appreciate the desire to utilise the cool mornings and tranquil evenings is the best time to see the city. I did stay out till noon on the corker day and still Life continued.

Much like Jerusalem parts of Varanasi is off bounds to non-Hindus so I saved myself for rejection and more temples on my visit. This may seem a bit defeatist but honestly after 6 months in Asia I feel temples are sadly becoming same same – so much so the sanctity of a Christian Church seems like a home calling when I see one…who would have ever thought!

Varanasi is not a place to come if you don’t like walking on stairs; Ghats simply are the stairs leading to the holy river Ganges or Mother Ganga as it is called locally. Here people from “far and wide” come to bathe in its holy waters and to be cremated on its shores to be purified into afterlife.

I took a stroll down the Ghats – all joined in their great glory along the northern shore of the Ganga (I had always figured it was on the South side for some reason so even now feel disorientated!) – with a guide from the Hotel. Rajal was able to tell me about the river leading me to the Harishchandra the secondary cremation Ghat which welcomes all religions, unlike the main cremation Ghat in the Old City which is exclusively for Hindus. Here Rajal explained the process of the deceased path to the Ganges – including telling me that the University had the biggest hospital in Varanasi, over flowing with the many ailing people of India coming to be close to the Ganga before their imminent demise.

From Rajal’s telling, my own experience at the Ghat that hot evening and a little more research I have sumised; Shortly after the death the bodies are smeared in a ghee (double cooked butter) like substance and some spices (unique per family - don't argue its a time of mourning and discussion often gets out of hand - don't forget!) to help with the burning and the smell and wrapped in white cloth and covered in an orange sheath of silk with garlands adorning a stretcher carried by 4 members of the family along the narrow alleys leading to the Ghat chanting as they walk. I had watched one earlier in the day so was able to understand, although a body on the roof of a jeep later would confuse me a little!

Once the family reach the Ghat only the men can precede to the river’s edge, where they dip the body in the river and then proceed to unwrap the face of the body and systematically tip Ganga water into the mouth five times each…that’s 16 handfuls. There is then a bit of tooing and froing with the owner of the Ghat, and the men who work fueling the fires and sourcing the wood for the pyre…yes someone gets a cut of every cremation on the Ghat (imagine his wealth!), a choice of wood type is made – again at a price Sandalwood is said to be most expensive. The wood is then weighed based on the correct amount needed for completing the cremation accurately and systematically dumped in a pile.

The Ghat Men create a bed like structure with wood along the ash filled beach and after a blessing from a Brahman Priest the family then goes to the eternal flame at the top of the Ghat and carries the flame to the body where they subsequently sit for the next few hours intermittently bathing in the water to purify their own souls. Rajal tells it that the Hip of a woman goes unburned and the skull of a man and these parts are taken by the family. The Ghat Men stir the fire and move the body, twisting it this way and that to ensure it is completely burnt.  Finally pushing the last of the ashes into a mound, Rajal told me it contains many metal parts from the jewellery worn by woman as all must be fully adorned as they were on their wedding day with anklets, bracelets, nose ring and earrings.

There are no women at the Ghats as was the tradition for the widow to throw herself on her husbands pyre as a true sign of her devotion. And to stop the tears and wailing, for a tear dropped for a departed soul would stop it from going to the afterlife. It was only then did I start getting emotional! Be assured everyone on the Ghat that day could have safe passage to the afterlife on my account!

Above the Harishchandra Ghat is an electric crematorium where many people choose to be cremated. It was then Rajal asked me how we cremate bodies in New Zealand. Ah. Um. We send them to the crematorium. And do you do it the same day? Ah no, we gather the family and friends with a few days, and, well, we visit the body in the Funeral Parlour – or have them at home in a room. Hell, I hadn’t thought about any of this in a long time. And it had me wondering how long my Dad had hung around in a hearse with no crematorium in Gore. Was he cremated on the day of the funeral or the day later. Or is it a costly process so maybe the crematorium only operates once a week. We are more practical than religious about these rites. Dads only wish was to have an arm and a leg on the Coast and the rest with Mum – but I could hardly relate this to Rajal (I can still see the confused look of the funeral director face when Dad requested this - priceless)!! 10 years on and I have new questions….

5 types of people are not to be burned – Babies, Pregnant women, small children (under 12), those with leprosy and those bitten by a cobra. Instead these are to be weighted with a stone and dropped in the middle of the river, as they are pure already.

Observing the way people utilise the Ghats and the Ganga was a real delight. Teenagers played cricket, while toddlers squealed and splashed in the low lying water, mothers washed their hair and grandfathers went about their constitutional swim, guru’s performed yoga on the raised platforms and boatmen scammed tourists into rides, street girls touted garlands and candles and young boys used a fine line to fish off the moored boats, men worked under canvas to fix hole riddled boats, bodies were burned, rows of men pelted dirty washing on stones, swimming tyres and floaties were used all along by young and old. There was the fit and healthy, the old and ailing, the water buffalo and rabid dog, garlands and flashing cameras. Chanting, shouting, touting, squealing, bells ringing, singing, and silence. It was living in the sight of death.

The thing that shocked me the most was how people literally swum in the ashes, taking their daily wash in the waters of death. The clothes washing was done within 2 meters of the Cremation Ghat, where the Walas would bathe during the heat of the day to cool off (the heat of the fires themselves were stifling enough without the summer sun!). Little boys were playing football on the cremation Ghat and cricket under the Electric Crematorium in its shade. Water buffalo washed with the children and sewers seeped into the river at several points along the Ghats. Perhaps this is surviving Varanasi that they talk about…

I had been warned time and time again about the touts in Varanasi and after being in peaceful Nepal I was anxious. Perhaps it was because I was staying out of the claustrophobic Old City in the Northern Ghats, but I didn't have any problems - save my boat man at dawn trying to double our agreed price on departure...cheeky bugger, I'm a woman of my word so ya can't kid me! Oh, and my hotel manager reading my Aura when I asked for him to check my Air Conditioning. Perhaps it was the end of the season and all the "Guru's" and "Mystics" have headed home to their families with their riches to enjoy the summer sun. Alas I had not a problem. Maybe it was my lucky day!

Blessed be their souls and all who loved them.