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| View of the Ganges River from a Hindu Temple on its bank |
How different Varanasi India is from Venice, Cinqueterra,
Florence, and Rome, Italy. No longer the neat cobbled passages and
thoroughfares. No longer the testimony to grandeur in high art and
architecture and civic pride. Varanasi is a cacophony of sights and
sounds with seemingly no order. The dense population of 3 ½ million
people that live on the bank of the Ganges River are too many for the
resources that exist.
Varanasicity.com: “Often
referred to as Benares, Varanasi is the oldest living city in the
world. These few lines by Mark Twain say it all: 'Benaras is
older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend and
looks twice as old as all of them put together' ". "Hindus believe
that one who is graced to die on the land of Varanasi would attain
salvation and freedom from the cycle of birth and re-birth. Abode of
Lord Shiva and Parvati, the origins of Varanasi are yet unknown.
Ganges in Varanasi is believed to have the power to wash away the
sins of mortals."
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| Street life |
Just being here is giving me spiritual insights and transforming
my consciousness. I know that I must let go of my agenda and
surrender to the Divine. Even having a slight agenda is not
permissible. I will give an example in a moment.
The streets teem and if you are in a hurry or expect orderliness
and sophistication, reality will dash these hopes in a hurry. Almost
every inch of the roads and passages are with people or beasts. All
the traffic is dodging other traffic, and even people must skirt
around each other. Pedestrians much watch not to step
in waste left by animals or trip on an upturned stone. Sometimes a strong stench is inhaled as the
gutters often are sewers flowing to God knows where. Shops are
everywhere, as are street vendors cooking tasty treats and offering
the ubiquitous chai tea. I sometimes think to myself that the garbage
and sewage are too close for comfort. Yet the people are lively and
do not hesitate in living. To be in the street is also to be accosted
by a rickshaw driver or someone who wants to show you something.
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| Daily pre-dawn prayer offerings |
Now, my story about surrender: Every morning I go before dawn to the banks of
the Ganges, at the foot of Assi Ghat to be among worshipers and also
to take photos in the supernal light and try and capture the poetry
there. I begin at a pre-dawn ceremony of young men and women, set on
a stage. The lads stand in a line, performing a prayer ritual that
entails specific movements, swinging lamps, waving fans and blowing
on conch shells. The young ladies stand aside, singing and chanting.
Then I wander the river banks as the light changes and the sun rises
over the horizon. It is a perfect time for picture taking. The other
morning I sat near groups of colorfully clad women praying and making
offerings, and sometimes stepping into the river to bathe. It is
thought to bathe in the holy river is to wash away ones sins. I took
photos as the sun rose over the opposite bank. I also took pictures
of holy men while the sun rose. Alas, when I returned to the hotel,
all the pictures I took from that morning were mysteriously missing, but photos from earlier remained.
I had seen them all on my camera, but now, those from the morning were gone. Frustration
came over me at the thought of losing some gorgeous photos. At last,
I surrendered to the Divine and said, “Please accept my loss as a
sacrifice to your holiness.”
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| Sadhu |
I have wondered what the lesson is and think that the holy spirit
is so strong here, the devotion so great, that my agenda of
picture taking was reprimanded. Perhaps some holy beings were offended in some way and asked that the pictures be cleared. Truly, I have been gracefully
guided to surrender while in Varanasi.
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| Smiling girl with the ever present holy cows. |
