Is This Burning An Eternal Flame?

April 6
Varanasi

Varanasi is the oldest city in India, and is probably the oldest continually inhabited city in the world. It's older than Rome, Jerusalem and Athens. It is the city where Mark Twain wrote his famous quote, "Benares (old name of Varanasi)is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together." It is the most holy city for Hindus, and the place they to be cremated, or for some, to die.

The Ganges river is life here. Lonely Planet says this stretch of river's fecal content is 1.5 million bacteria in every liter. 500 is considered safe. There are parts that are completely septic, which means zero oxygen content. Sewage from the millions of people who live in and visit Varanasi, along with all the dogs, goats, cows and other creatures who inhabit the city, as well as waste from the surrounding towns is dumped directly into the river. The remains of the dead, along with whatever disease killed them, go into the water. It's not uncommon to see human remains from a body that was not 100% cremated (I think I saw a patch of hair, but looked away before I got too close). Yet people bathe in and drink from its holy waters every morning, hoping to wash away a lifetime of sins.

Up the steps and away from the ghats, the city is similar to other ancient cities, like parts of Rome or even Venice, its narrow, windy, cobblestone streets impossible to navigate and easy to get lost in. Where it differs is in just about every other way. The streets are too narrow for auto rickshaws so it's all foot traffic with the occasional motorbike cruising through the chaos, waiting to honk their horn until they are within inches of running you over. Many of the buildings are in states of disrepair. The stairs leading up to restaurants, guest houses, temples and yoga centers are hundreds of years old and would certainly be considered hazardous in any western country. There are hordes of people everywhere you go, trying to sell you stuff or make a buck by guiding you someplace. Children follow you asking for rupees. It's impossible to walk more than 4 minutes without somebody falling into step with you and asking where you're from and where you're going. You have to watch out for the cow plop everywhere, not to mention the cows themselves. It smells of shit and piss and food and garbage and incense. There are daily and nightly power outages that leave the ghats in total darkness. For many people, it could be an intolerable mess of filth and stench.

But once you move past that, Varanasi is a pretty special place. We woke before dawn and took a boat ride on the Ganga, as it's pronounced in Hindi, to watch the sun rise and the city come to life. As soon as first light broke, everything slowly started to move. First were the morning bathers, dipping three or four times with their eyes closed and noses held. Then were the laundry men, beating lungis, saris, sheets, and probably tourists' laundry on the ghats and rinsing them in the river. The ladies all bathe in their saris, so the digney grey steps were dotted with technicolor. There were kids jumping and splashing around. Hawkers set up their stalls on the main ghat, food was being prepared, and another day was in full swing. All this, of course, coinciding with the sacred activities at the burning ghats.

There are a few burning ghats, but the main one has performed cremations 24 hours a day for over 1000 years. Being cremated in Varanasi and having ones remains placed into the Ganga means you are free of samsara, the cycle of life and death. Dying here also yields the same result. Sadhus, babies, pregnant women and lepers are already pure and therefore do not get burned, they go into the river whole. We met a local guy who talked with us for awhile and explained what was going on as we watched cremations take place. I think there were 4 or 5 going on at once. The bodies are carried through town by the male relatives and placed on the wood, which is lit from a fire that has been burning in Varanasi for 1000 years, from the same flames that cremated Shiva's mother. That fire has been kept alive ever since, and every cremation is lit from it. There is only wood; no lighting fluid or matches are used. The cremation takes around 3 or 4 hours, and then the remains go into the river. The family of the dead stay until this task is complete. If a family cannot afford wood, friends and neighbors chip in to get as much as possible. Bodies are cremated according to how much wood a family can afford, hence unburned remains sometimes end up in the river. Women are kept away, so there is no weeping. Next to the funerals, Varanasi life goes on as usual. There are dogs running through the ashes, sadhus doing yoga, the sick waiting to die, hawkers selling post cards and blessings, street urchins begging for rupees, dudes flying kites, random piles of cow diarrhea, pujas being performed, boats of tourists taking photos (which is strictly prohibited, though not strictly enforced), goats wandering around and various other bits of daily life going on. There is no separation of life and death here; one is part of the other and if there is sadness and mourning, I didn't see it. I wouldn't exactly say it was a rejoicing vibe, but it was definitely one of believing that being put to rest here is the best possible end to an earthly life. I don't think being burned at the Ganges is the way I want to go, but it sure beats being put into a box in the ground.