The Ganges

From Sunday November 7 and Monday November 8

We spent Sunday evening and early Monday morning on the Ganges. The Ganges is the quintessential Indian cultural experience. Two eyes, two ears and a nose are not enough sensory instrumentation to take it all in. This was a feast for the ears and nose as well as the eyes.

On Sunday evening, the goal was to float downstream to experience the never ending cremations at Manikarnike Ghat, the largest of Varanasi's two "burning ghats," and to watch the nightly Aarti ceremony at Dasaswamedh Ghat.

We arrived at Dasaswamedh Ghat just as the sky was turning from dusk to dark and were met with an eerily-lit plaza teeming with people waiting for the Aarti ceremony. [Click here for a short video.] (In India, the word "ghat" refers to the steps and shore area that lead down to and line the banks of a body of water. The west bank of the Ganges River at Varanasi is lined with one ghat after another; the steps seeming to form a type of seawall along the water front.) We immediately boarded our rather large, heavy wooden row boat, manned by two rowers. They didn't have a lot to do on the way to our destination; the current was rather brisk.

On the way, we learned about Hindu death rites. It is the dream of every Hindu to have his ashes committed to the Ganges, the most holy river in Hinduism. Some of the more interesting things we learned: The eldest son is responsible for the funeral preparations and actively participates in preparing the body. He must bathe and shave and is dressed only in a white loin cloth. (See Gandhi.) He stays at the cremation until the body is ashes. The son then takes the ashes to the river. Women are not allowed to attend the cremation.

We watched the cremations from the boat at a distance. Photographs are not allowed, but tolerated if done discreetly. This is not the celebration of life that we witnessed at the cremation ceremony in Bali. By the light of the cremation fires, we could see the male family members waiting for the ashes of their loved one; one man was bathing in the river - sanctifying his body before performing his rituals. As our departure neared, we watched as on of the pyre attendants beckoned a man, indicating that the cremation was complete. And we watched as the mourner carries the ashes to the river, fulfilling his final filial duty. Even though there were dozens of tourist-filled boats all around us, the atmosphere was one of quiet reverence, as you can see in this short video clip.

The rowers had their work cut out for them on the return to Dasaswamedh but these tough wiry guys had no problems handling the chore. During our participated in the charming custom of making fire offerings to the Ganges. We released oil lanterns, fueled by ghee (butter fat) in a bowl of dry leaves with a few marigold petals.






As we neared the Dasaswamedh Ghat, the peace of our river float, which by now had evolved into a quiet introspective reverie, was shattered by the din of bells and flash of lights coming from the Ganga Aarti Ceremony now in full swing. Aarti is a ritual where celebrants circulate fire in the form of a ghee lamp (like our offering in the boat) and later a fiery hand-held candelabra around themselves while pulling a string to continuously ring a bell. Can't imagine it? Well, look at the video.

We watched several minutes of the ceremony from our boat after it maneuvered its way though the now hundreds of boats gathered at the water front for a river view of the performance. You could have walked across the entire waterfront, several hundred yards from boat to boat without any risk of touching the water. We eventually made our way to the landing area, pushing this boat and pulling that one out of our path and exited the boat to enjoy a late dinner at our Palace on the Ganges.

Here is a link to all of the pictures I took on this wonderful evening.

Those of you who were on the tour might enjoy this little video of tour members on the boat.

Restaurant Review - Lazeez Family Restaurant

From Sunday November 7

Lunch on this, our first, day in Varanasi was a group affair at a place called Lazeez Family Restaurant. At home, as a rule, we usually avoid restaurants with the word "family" in the title. Rightly or wrongly, to us it denotes an establishment more concerned with the quantity and price of the food, rather than the quality. This especially applies to places with the subtitle "Mom's Home Cooking." This usually means that, yes, Mom's at home, cooking; who knows who cooked the stuff at this place.  But that rule obviously doesn't apply to India, at least not to this restaurant. The meal was memorable enough to earn its own posting.

One of the things that is so interesting about this restaurant is how the ambience and initial presentation lowered our expectations before giving us a delightfully delicious experience. There is one seating area -  an open dining area with plain tables unadorned with tablecloths or placements. Our tables were arranged in a bizarre L-shaped configuration along one wall and the counter area. This place defined the word "unpretentious." And there was this tacky length of mirror on the ceiling directly over the row of tables. So far, it's living up to its family billing.

For the first course each person was served a cup of vegetable soup, not bad, but not that special. After the soup, each dish was served family style. The second course was a plate of limp, kind of cold french fries. My expectations for this meal hit the floor. Oh, well, I thought, you've been eating too much anyway. Then, they brought out the vegetable curry. OMG. Best. Indian. Food. Ever. Then they brought out the Dal Makhani. Wow. Then Paneer Masala, followed by a noodle dish that I had never seen before. Each dish was better than the last. And the spices weren't dumbed down for the Western palate. I liked that the dishes were served in courses rather than all at once, as is usual. We had a chance to savor every dish. The downside was that we had no idea what was coming next so we were all stuffed to the gills.

The icing on the cake was the pride the owner took in presenting each dish to us himself, explaining what each dish was, very helpful to the many Indian food novices on our group. The staff was equally friendly and offered explanations as much as their limited English would allow. The meal ended with a dessert new to me, little balls soaked in rose water like Galub Jamon but not. The owner explained that this dish was the same as Galub Jamon but without flour.

If you are in Varanasi, you must go to this restaurant. It is located on Luxa Road, a couple of blocks east of its intersection with Godowlia Road.

A cross cultural note: Many of us arrived at the restaurant a little bit traumatized. A couple of blocks before the restaurant, we passed a corner in a residential neighborhood where the body of a young boy child was being prepared for burial by several women. The body was on a raised dais like the type set up in Asia for people to relax up off of the dirty sidewalk. The body had been obviously scalded or burned and, according to our guide, was being anointed and cleaned for eventual burial in the Ganges River. He explained that children under age 5 are not cremated but put in the holy river of life. Even now, I'm not sure what I should be thinking about this, but every time I think about this meal, I remember that little boy.

Hindu Liturgy

From Sunday November 7

Nestled In the middle of the University of Varanasi is the Shree Vishwanath Temple, dedicated to the god Vishnu. (Hence the name Vishwanath? Did I just inadvertently write something like, "Here is the church of St. Andrew, dedicated to the saint Andrew?" Stupid foreign languages.) We drove to the outskirts of Varanasi to tour what we assumed would be an architecturally interesting temple, based on the famous and most holy Kashni Vishwanath Temple a few miles to the northeast of the University. And the architecture was impressive and interesting, but new and not historically significant. What we got instead was a chance to witness and experience how a Hindu worships God.

The temple has a main hall, the holiest place in the temple which contained a huge fat lingam personifying Vishnu. The lingam was in the corner of a roped-off area with a priest sitting inside the ropes. Attending the the priest was a line of supplicants with offerings in hand. Our guide (whose name, forgive me, I didn't record) took his place in line while we waited patiently outside the ropes. When he reached the priest he handed the offerings he had bought in the kiosks outside the temple. In one hand, our guide had marigolds, what looked like a hyacinth blossom and a bag of rice wrapped in a lotus leaf. In the other hand he held a bowl of milk. He handed the solid objects to the priest and received his blessing, consisting of a red dot on the forehead. Our guide then went to the lingam and poured the bowl of milk over the phallic lingam - talk about powerful imagery of fertility. The priest also gave our guide a string to tie around his wrist, a custom we had experienced in Thailand when receiving a blessing from a Buddhist monk.

We were given the opportunity to also receive a blessing from the priest but I, and most of our group, declined. I don't know why, I couldn't put my finger on it, but participating just didn't feel right. I had eagerly participated in a Buddhist blessing in Thailand, going so far as prostrating myself before the monk and receiving my braided string, which I wore until it fell off almost a year and a half later. I mentioned my hesitation later to Charlotte. She told me she skipped the blessing because the priest looked so severe and mean. She was right; I think I had caught this vibe also.

Offering offered, our guide now took us through all of the alters and shrines located in the nooks and crannies outside of the inner sanctum of the temple. Before each shrine he would perform the appropriate prayer actions and explain the significance of the shrine. The shrine in this picture is to Brahma. He draped it with some of the marigold necklaces we had received when our hotel welcomed us. In one shrine, another priest arrived as our group approached the shrine. This guy was as joyful and vibrant as the priest in the inner sanctum had been dour. He told us all about this particular shrine and we all eagerly accepted his blessing, proudly sporting our bright red forehead smudges. Then the priest destroys the mood by holding out his supplicating palm.

I must say, though, that this temple touched the spiritual side of me. The atmosphere was reverent and peaceful. Worshipers who passed our group were welcoming and friendly. (One family pleaded for a group picture of them with me in the middle.) Over the years, I have been in only two places that made me feel completely at peace and close to a supreme entity. Both are in Thailand. One is Wat Doi Suthep in Chiang Mai. The most unlikely place is the loud, gaudy, raucous Wat Phanan Choeng, a Chinese Buddhist temple in Ayuthaya, just north of Bangkok. And now, Shree Vishwanath, but much of that may be due to the reverent explanations and devotions of our Indian guide.

As we left Shree Vishwanath Temple, we were entertained by a baby monkey who was pestering his mother beyond bearing.

Ashram

From Sunday November 7

The first sight we visited in Varanasi was an ashram. When I read this on the schedule I envisioned someone like this guy only sitting cross-legged in the lotus position on a canopied dais, chanting Hare Krishna mantras with George Harrison until he noticed our reverent approach to his perch. He would then stop his chant and give us a spiritually uplifting discourse on how to live our lives earning lots of good karma and find our way to everlasting enlightenment. Maybe we would even get a string tied around our wrist. I certainly didn't expect what we found. I don't think Reid expected it either.

I think most of us are familiar with the word ashram meaning a Hindu community or retreat that includes a holy man or guru. Our experience in the Varanasi ashram was so different from this definition that, after returning to the States, I searched for alternative definitions. Most websites defined ashram as I understood it. I found one, The FreeDictionary.com, that added a second definition: "a house that provides accommodation for destitute people." We toured the second type of ashram.

It would have been interesting to see the first type of ashram; however, touring the alternative gave us an unexpected insight into how a society without a hint of a social safety net deals with its aging population. We were in an Indian old-folks home. Maybe retirement community would be a better term, since there were no nurses or physical therapists, and residents cooked their own food and mostly cared for themselves. Our guide explained that people came here after their useful lives were over and if they had no family to care for them. Some of them outlived their families; some were estranged. It did sound eerily like what American families struggle with when their parents deteriorate beyond the capacity of their children to help them. The residents divest themselves of their possessions (it was unclear if they gave what they had to the ashram) and moved into the ashram, where they had a place to live and be cared for for the rest of their lives.

There is a religious aspect to living here; the expectation is that the residents live their lives in meditation and prayer. The ashram had its own temple as well as a Lingam and Yoni shrine to honor the god Shiva and goddess Shakti. The whole enterprise is funded solely by donations, which are very much appreciated, thank you.

I must admit that touring the ashram was about as comfortable as taking a guided tour through an American nursing home. I didn't want to peer at and photograph the residents like they were exhibits in a zoo but it was just so damn interesting.

(Hint on viewing pictures: I just discovered that clicking on the picture expands it into a bigger view.)

I have a few more pictures on Flickr, if you want.