Varanasi
Trip Start
May 01, 2007
1
90
209
Trip End
Jun 17, 2008
Varanasi, India
Sunday, November 25, 2007
What will never leave my mind is walking along a sidewalk (called a ghat) along the Ganges and realizing that the campfires in front of you don't consist entirely of wood. They are cremation pyres. In just 24 hours I witnessed about 20 cremations. An equal number of shrouded corpses lay nearby, in queue for an available site. Seeing a head or a pair of feet sticking out of the pile, slowly burning both revolts and captivates.
I also will never forget the family that squished into our sleeper cabin on the train early in the morning about an hour before we arrived. Silence overcame our cabin mates. The family blocked Val's luggage with a 50 pound bag of rice in the middle of the floor and cradled their grandmother, who did not appear to have too many days left ahead of her. The bag of rice probably outweighed her. Slowly we came to the realization which was most likely obvious to our fellow passengers: the family was bringing their grandmother to Varanasi to die. There are many hospices in Varanasi since many consider themselves more likely to have a favorable reincarnation if they die and are cremated in Varanasi.
Nearby, on neighboring ghats, others busily prepared bright orange marigold decorations, pink and purple mandalas, Christmas lights (well, not Christmas lights, but you know what I mean), stages, sound systems and butter lamps to celebrate Dewaali, the festival of lights. To a Hindu, death is not an occasion for weeping and remorse. It's a part of life and once the cremation ends, life moves on.
