Death and Rebirth Along the Ganges

As soon as I got to Varanasi, it was immediately clear to me that the blog entry would practically write itself. In all the years I have been coming to India, that is since 2001, I have studiously avoided the Shiva City. In my mind, the cult of Shiva goes some way in explaining the acceptance of chaos in the world. Wherever one sees destruction, it can be explained by Shiv-shakti. The old city of Varanasi is a series of ghats, or stairways leading down to the river Ganges. Hindus come hear for death and funerals. It is considered the most auspicious place to pass away, as doing so in Varanasi finally releases one from the endless cycle of death and rebirth. Funeral cremations are held along the banks as well. The rich can afford enough wood for a decent pyre and oil to light it properly. Their funerals are, well, clean burning, as it were. They are the minority. More humble funerals end rather less completely on the river. 

Scores of people live along the riverbank. Some housing is decent. A lot of it is slums. Not public housing in disrepair, no. Authentic favelas and shanties, with mud bricks, corrugated metal, plastic sheeting, and the like. And they eat, drink, bathe and relieve themselves in this river, along with hoards of pilgrims. The resulting water quality is less than inspiring. And with herds of cows, ox, pigs, donkeys and other livestock roaming freely, there is shit absolutely everywhere. Most of the time it is just shit. Sometimes though it is shit mixed with garbage.

Having known about all this beforehand, you might think my reticence about coming to this place was understandable. But I found a quiet little piece of paradise along the river, some two or so kilometers after Assi Ghat, the southernmost one in the old city. There we have Rahul Guest House, in a little cul-de-sac, on the Ganges to be sure, with quiet, swept walkways, and a rooftop restaurant featuring a view to die for, plus free wi-fi. There's something more to complete the picture. Just by the ghat, there's a wonderful little lassi stall, where I am a regular customer. They make every kind of lassi to order. Every kind. I go for my daily quota. And it is a happy affair, let me assure you.

Soon after arriving, I had a strange experience. It was like I felt all the crowding of souls in this city. So many being released. So many ambling about, in no a hurry to move on, or not quite sure which direction to take.

Trying as I do to maintain a slight distance between myself and the heaving mass of filth and foulness, understanding this as a place of death, I also felt a strong urge toward rebirth. Some souls come initially to escape the curse of constant reincarnation; it seemed like a portion of them changed their minds and in the midst of the crowd of spirits, struggle to reassert themselves in order to return. Maybe their work on this plane isn't yet done. 

I am now traveling alone. Adam went back to spend some time with his family before we move to Austria. It has been nearly four months since we submitted our visa application. The Immigration Authorities have hounded us with unending demands for new documents and clarifications. They have dithered in the decision regarding permanent or provisional status. They have made me spin plates while leaping through flaming hoops. But it seems now that a decision may actually be near. Part of my motivation in coming to Varanasi was to experience all the horror of India in order to better appreciate the material virtues of Europe. And emerging from this place, finally triumphant, I now feel will almost be akin to a rebirth. Not just a new job in a new place. A new life. A new start. 

That may sound a bit cliché, and the truth of the matter is that I originally saw this move as the next sector on a logical continuum. It may well of been conceived that way, but now, in Varanasi, I am inclined to see it as a clean break to something completely new, different and unpredictable. The joys will be different joys and the challenges will be different challenges. Indeed, looking back, every five years seems to have brought such vast changes that even my fertile imagination would have been hard pressed to dream up such scenarios. So there is openness and acceptance and a surrender to my destiny.