I will never be able to reconcile the way Indians see the Ganges as a sacred river central to so many of their rituals, and yet they use it to dispose of their rubbish and their dead. It hurt my western sensibilities to watch a little girl picking through every scrap of rubbish that had been carelessly left on the steps leading to the river, every now and then finding a treasure which she secreted in a little bag tied around her waist. We have so much, and so many of these people have so little. But I am getting ahead of myself.We travelled overnight by train, sharing a cabin with locals and keeping all our gear constantly in sight, with me so neurotic that I even slept with my bag under my head. Small bags are a must for train travel in India! We alighted at Allahabad, where India was officially taken over from the East India Company by the British in 1857/8. After breakfast, we piled into jeeps that seemed to lack air conditioning and spent the next 3 and a half hours melting in the heat. The road seemed to plough straight through the middle of villages, and as we went along the condition of the road worsened. In one village the road was cobbled, so we bumped and clattered through that one. We saw so much life along the way, an endless procession of sights and sounds. The countryside was fairly scenic, with trees and crops of rice and corn.
Finally we reached the holy Ganges, where we were told that no alcohol or animal products were to be consumed near the river, and no rubbish thrown in. There must be one rule for locals and one for foreigners on that one! We climbed into little boats and made ourselves comfortable under the shade cloths while we were rowed out into the current by our wiry crew. We rafted up together in the middle of the river, and were served an enormous, delicious meal of rice, dahl, chutney, pickle, spinach paneer, potato curry, yellow pumpkin and chai tea. After that we lay back and relaxed as we drifted down to our camping spot on a deserted island. Rob stepped off the boat and into bird heaven – pratincoles, kingfishers, waders – and also into the sticky mud of the Ganges. It was paradise on our little island, watching the sun go down. The crew erected tents and cooked us another amazing meal which we ate under starlight. The heat continued, and almost no one slept in their stifling tents. We dragged our mattresses outside, wrapped ourselves in our silk liners in a vain attempt to avoid the mossies, and sweated. All night long we had to endure the amplified sound of chanting coming over the river, a ceaseless wail only briefly relieved by the distant sound of a coyote.
I am not proud of the fact that I had to defecate on the banks of the Ganges next day – I wasn’t the only one suffering from a sore belly either. Most of us seemed to be getting a gutbug one after the other, and we wonder about the hygiene on the boat, where they religiously made us wash our hands but I never saw them wash their own. At Chunar we disembarked, and climbed somewhat thankfully into air conditioned jeeps and drove through lovely clean villages, fields of paw paw and corn, heading for Varanassi. It is the world’s oldest living city, established in 1400BC, and India’s holiest city. At our nice hotel I enjoyed one of the best showers of my life, it felt so good to wash off the sweat and grime of the train and boat.
Later we walked around part of the old city with its narrow alleyways and shops, stalls, people, colour, life and touts. We visited a famous silk-making area and watched silk being woven. Later we joined a candle flower ceremony on the Ganges along with masses of people and boats. In the streets there were rowdy parades celebrating the end of Ramadhan.
Unfortunately next morning Rob and I didn’t get the expected wake-up-call, so we missed out on the dawn ceremony down on the ghats. More than one hundred steps lead down to the river along a 6 kilometre stretch where there is a constant celebration of life, and rites of passage are performed.
Four of us joined forces and visited Saranath, also known as Benares or Kashi, the birthplace of Buddhism, where Buddha gave his first sermon in 528 BC. Beyond the rather naively decorated temple was a dismal zoo, but also an excellent museum with ancient relics dating back to at least 1st century BC, and containing stone lintels, columns, statues and a glorious glowing Buddha. The drive by rickshaw there and back was amazing – nearly an hour through thronging streets and insane intersections. Loads of beasties and bicycles in a never ending procession.
In the afternoon Rob insisted he knew the way back to the ghats, and promptly got us lost. The heat was too much, so we summoned a cycle rickshaw. The driver didn’t understand us and took us miles in the wrong direction, he thought we had said Gate – so he had to cycle all the way back again. He earned himself a big tip, he really deserved it in that heat. We sat on the ghats for a while, but they are disgustingly filthy, rubbish everywhere, so it didn’t prove to be a pleasant spot for serene contemplation. Rob was incredulous when it took us only 3 minutes to walk back to our hotel!
Raj took 4 of us through the packed streets to an Indian cotton shop in the middle of incredibly busy markets. We had a wonderful time in the shop and all bought a selection of beautifully handmade colourful clothes from the lovely vendors. Autorickshaw drivers tried to fleece us on the way back, so we got into 2 cycle rickshaws instead and once again enjoyed the chaotic ride. Pity about my churning stomach - Rob munched his way through thali while I ate plain rice, banana and yoghurt. A 4.30 am start in the morning –ugh.
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