Varanasi Three

My first view of the river was over the head of a vast crowd. The bank of the river on the city side was a giant stone staircase stretching into the distance. Hundreds of boats of different sizes and shapes were moored along the staircase. The far side was a white beach with a few shacks on it. We came out between two temples and descended the staircase to see a host of scenes, any of which would have been a spectacle in Canada. A man stands on a small stone platform in orange robes with a flaming chalice in his hand, which he waves in a circle. An old man sits underneath a straw umbrella and paints people’s faces with symbolic patterns – another Hindu/Indian custom. The Ganges River is filthy and dark green. People throw dead bodies into it sometimes, and I’m pretty sure it’s connected to the sewer system. Yet people swim in it, because it’s supposed to purify their sins. They wash clothes in it, whacking them against flat stones on the shoreline.











We decided to take a boat up the river a bit. We ended up on a small rowboat paddled by a fifteen-year-old boy. Our boat almost smacking into one man who was standing shirtless up to his chest praying in the water, but he calmly pushed us aside. We passed several other boats some laden with tourists. In fact I saw more foreigners in that one day in Varanasi then I’ve seen in my whole time in Lucknow. We enjoyed watching the stone buildings pass by, hostels, hotels, pensions and temples. At one point we saw maybe seventy people in white robes lined up for a photo with some famous guru in orange robes. They all sang and pumped their fists in time. Melody chatted a bit with the kid, discussing his school and his ambitions. She takes delight in meeting people spontaneously and getting to know a slice of their lives.