Banaras

The dark sky merged into a misty morning, as the sun yawned with a smile. The cool air added to the beauty of the morning. The banks of the river was coming alive to yet another day. Four of us walked down the stairs, towards the ghat. The boatmen rushed forward when they saw the perspective customers. We planked ourselves onto the boat and the ride was on. The various ghats in Banaras were gradually waking up. People went about their chores. There were kids doing yoga, sadhus dressed to please the numerous foreign tourists, People bathing. We were in awe of the magnificience of the huge palaces that stood on the banks of the River Ganges. Various kings from all over India had their own place in this holy land of Kashi. Most of them are not used or partially used today. However, they add to the beauty of the place and gives the banks a historical effect.

I remember my first visit to Banaras, when I was a kid. The Ganges didn't seem so pure then, and there was proof that bodies did not always turn to ash. I had seen half burnt bodies lying on the banks, with animals and wild birds trying to get a share of the remains. There were intestines floating on water and the boat ride wasn't half as pleasant as this time. Times have changed and I am glad the river is clean now. The sun crept out and the brightness was
infectious.

There is a belief that if we die and are burnt in Kashi, we will walk into heaven. The huge umbrellas on the ghats are places where people who have lost both their parents sit and pray for the souls. This is to free the souls from their life cycle, so say the priests, and our ancient texts. Hinduism has some strange ways of survival! i say strange because I do not believe in the concept of heaven and hell. I believe that heaven and hell are a part of the life we
live. Our actions or Karma are the only eternal truth. Coming back to the city I was in - We drifted past the Harishchandra ghat where a body was being burnt, and relatives stood by. I thanked my stars that I was there just as a tourist! The boat returned to the banks and we got out.

As we walked back we went into the lane that leads to the Vishwanath (lord of the universe) temple. It was a holy and peaceful feeling. We went to see the Mosque behind the temple and spent time listening to the stories of how Aurangzeb had the temple converted into a Mosque. The priest there had got new 'Bakras' and we could see it in his eyes. We were made to dish out a good amount of money because he had prayed for for our life and after life too. We had
no choice but to believe him. We were starving by then, so we drove into the first restaurant we saw - It was a Keralite restaurant and we hogged on the Idlis.

Since we were tourists, we made sure we go to all the tourist places. The first place of significance was a Sari shop, Well! Banaras is known for it's saris and I was just being a part of it's culture. I glanced at the man with the wallet, who stood beside me and I waited for his nod. One nod from him and the wallet was emptied. (I later realised that I had been duped, and I had bought fake sarees instead of Banarasi ones.. We had to put up a fight to get the
money back and we were lucky we could get it back.) It was then time for a visit to the Buddhist sites. I was comparing them with what I had seen earlier. Nothing much had changed. The Jain temple was an eye opener for my 12 year old and I preferred to ignore the grin on her face. The tour of the other temples in the city had made us weary and the halt at the temple in Banaras Hindu University was a welcome change.

By evening we were back at the ghats of the Ganges to witness the 'Arti'. We perched ourselves in front of the podiums and waited. Seven young priests in saffron dhoti and kurtas in satin, blew the conches and began the ceremony. It was beautiful and yet seemed fake. There was a touch of glamour that eluded the true essence of the evening prayer ceremony. It almost seemed like a concert, especially staged for foreign tourists who sat on the boats and gaped in
amazement. We were selling Hinduism to the outer world and I was witnessing relegious tourism at it's best. According to hindu texts, if we take a dip in the Ganges, we wash away our sins. I remembered my elders saying that, and I went and washed my feet. (Wonder how much of my sins have been washed!) We returned to plunge onto the bed and doze off.

The station is called Varanasi, which is yet another name for the city. 'Varanasi' is the sophisticated sanskritised version and 'Kashi' is long gone into the history books. Kashi reminds one of Tulsi das the great poet who had penned 'Ramcharit manas'. But, I prefer to call the place 'Banaras', as it gives the true picture of the place that is a mixture of rugged and dusty bylanes where a car walks with the people. The place where the electricity wires are entwined
with the telephone cables and yet exist in harmony. It is also a place where the dead meets eternity. It is also moving with the times and tiny shops exist alongside modern shopping complexes. The terms Banarasi 'paan', Banarasi 'thug' (cheater), Banarasi sarees, kachoris, temples, Ganges and it's ghats, widows, yoga, sadhus and crematoriums makes it a contradiction in itself. The contradictions are the essence of the place which i like to call - Banaras.