Hello dear ones,
Well, today, I think Sunday Oct 9 I'm sitting in an internet office. It's very hot outside, many fans blowing inside, a few feet away lighted ghee lamps in front of an altar for Durga, one of the feminine faces for the Divine. We are in Varanasi, formerly Benares. It is the middle of the 9 day Dusshera festival, a festival of celebration of Durga.
Oct 4 we spent the day in Rishikesh. I was walking down a lane and a young girl smiled at me. Her smile lit up the world and she asked me my name. I told her and asked hers. She told me and smiled again and I walked on feeling such an appreciation of the beauty she carried. I sat on the beach and watched Sadhus watching younger Western women in bikinis and young western men playing volleyball wondering what they thought of all this and meanwhile the mighty Ganges just kept flowing. I found myself pondering how many centuries the river flowed like this. It seemed a reminder that just as the water was changing, always changing, so is everything and I found this to be restful and reassuring.
Oct 5 we drove from Rishikesh back to Delhi. On the way we stopped at Hardiwar, one of the 7 holiest cities to the Hindus. It was midday. Very hot and the ghats were full of people making offering to the river and bathing. There weren't as many westerners here and a different kind of energy, more raw, more haunting, more immediate. We watched families come to the water, I imagined often after much travelling and sacrifice. There were many people there asking for money, old, disabled, deformed, mothers with young children asking for money. It was very striking to me here, but as it was so hot we left for Delhi. Hot and this isn't even the hot season. On the way to Dehli, our driver, Lekh Raj, who is from Dharamsala continued the amazing dance of driving on the Indian roads. Between cattle, trucks, buses, rickshaws, carts with whole classes of school girls, potholes, haywagons, bicycles, motorcycles, scooters, goats, sheep and much much more he continued to honk constantly, swerve, accelerate, brake. Outside the lushness of the fields growing, the light changing in the day and the Indian ragas playing on the radio carried us into Delhi again.
The next day, Duncan, Rosalyn and Terence went off looking for a camera and Carol and I went to visit an old friend, Andre Poulliot, a woman who is living in Delhi. We met at the Lodi Gardens, a green oasis in the middle of Dehli and she told us about her life there. We have agreed to meet her later for another visit. She will take us to visit a Sufi community there that she knows well. They live at the site of the tomb of a great Sufi saint. One of his gifts was that he gave food to the poor from this site 700 years ago. Every Thursday night the storehouses would be empty and every Friday morning they would be full again, after being locked up through the night. Every Thursday night they do Sufi chanting and so I am looking forward to doing this.
Later that afternoon we got on the overnight train for Varanasi. We tried to rearrange our seats so that we could all sit together but were only partially succesful.. In our little compartment was an Indian man on the way to Varanasi to interview his daughter's prospective husband. When he pulled the curtain to drink his Scotch, I thought oh oh! I think it was just his sleeping pill. He turned out to be a nice man, but suffered from the heat and had trouble breathing. The conductor came by, served us chai and told me there was a shrine on the train and did I want to see it. Away we went, through several cars of people eating, getting ready to sleep, past the cooking car where 3 young men in singlets were preparing food, sweating profusely behind great blasts of flame that leapt up in front of them. In the front of the cooking car was the shrine to Durga. A beautiful statue, flowers, lights, candles. Sitting in front of the altar was a priest who gave us a blessing and all the time we kept moving on through the night. Oct 7 we arrived early in Varanasi, found our driver from the hotel, and got our rooms.
Duncan and I went for a walk to some of the ghats. Carol and I had a room without air conditioning. We just found it too hot to move, either going out or doing anything. We switched rooms and were much better off. I find it necessary sometimes to get out of the heat and we are very grateful for a room with air conditioning where we can re-energize before our next foray outside. I went for another walk through the old sections of Varanasi now largely Moslem. Very narrow winding streets, high buildings, no signs, ashrams, shops, homes, people, cows. Terence said this is one of the oldest cities in the world and this felt like it.. Eventually I happened upon one of the two cremation ghats where I sat and watched several cremations occuring. For Hindu people to be cremated in Varinassi is assurance of not having to be reborn. People come here to die, many waiting for death to occur so they might be released from the cycles of rebirth.
The next morning we got up at 5:30 and went to the river to take a rowboat down the ghats. There are some 90 ghats here extending over 4 miles. As the sun rose over the Ganges we watched people coming to the water to bath, pray and start their days. On the float down the river we stopped at the main cremation ghat and a Brahmin priest took us through the ghat and and explained quite extensively what was happening. There is a ceremonial fire burning here that has burned for 700 years continuously. All of the cremation pyres are lit from this fire. The Buddha on his way to Sarnath to give his first talk, stopped at this ghat and meditated here. If the father has died, the oldest son lights the fire. It the mother, the youngest son. If the wife, then the husband lights the fire. Before the fire is lit, flame is taken from the ceremonial fire and the person walks around the fire 5 times, once for each of the 5 elements, earth, air, fire, water and ether. After the cremation, water is poured on the fire from a clay pot, which is then thrown over the shoulder, breaks and the person does not look back. In this way the soul is sent on it's way and is released.
Later in the day I went with an Indian man from our hotel to the oldest temple here, about 700 years old. We are in the middle of Dusshera, a nine day festival and the temple was full of people making offerings, praying, giving gifts of food, scarves, coconuts. The belief during this festival is that miracles are often granted to those who come to the temple. There was beautiful statues to the 9 manifestations of Lord Shiva's wives. Non-Hindus are not allowed in without a Hindu. So I felt grateful to be able to be there. We then went to a beautiful temple to Lord Rama. It is a relatively recent temple, 50 years old or so, built by one of the wealthiest families in Varanasi. On the walls the entire Ramayana is carved into the marble walls over 2 floors of the building. I watched a man singing the great tale as he read it. We gathered again at our hotel and did a small ceremony in preparation for going back to the main cremation ghat where we wanted to sit after sunset. The Brahmin had told us this was the best time to meditate. Out we went, night now, in rickshaws through the wild chaotic, beautiful streets on a ride that seemed to take forever. Then a walk through the old city, winding, twisting following a man who appeared to help us find our way, no easy task. At the ghat one of the caretakers of a tower there remembered us from the morning and let us up into the tower so we could meditate and pray. Below on two levels of the ghat 10 or 12 cremations were taking place and each of we 5 had our own reflections about life and death.
We came back to the hotel, and on the way back passed elephants and camels, and were told of a Durga parade that would start outside around 11:30. Rosalyn, Carol and I went out, and watched fire twirlers, sword swingers, elephants, camels, carts with statues of Divinities surrounded by multi-colored flashing lights, and carts carrying the characters of the Ramayama, one of the three sacred Hindu texts. The enegy was wild, chaotic, excited. I loved the color, the sound and the celebration of it all. So, off to sleep, tomorrow we go to Sarnath, 13 kilometers away where there are Buddhist temples from all over the world and where the Buddha gave his first talk. We are all well, sinking deeper into our experience daily and feeling day by day more comfortable.
Namaste Jim
Well, today, I think Sunday Oct 9 I'm sitting in an internet office. It's very hot outside, many fans blowing inside, a few feet away lighted ghee lamps in front of an altar for Durga, one of the feminine faces for the Divine. We are in Varanasi, formerly Benares. It is the middle of the 9 day Dusshera festival, a festival of celebration of Durga.
Oct 4 we spent the day in Rishikesh. I was walking down a lane and a young girl smiled at me. Her smile lit up the world and she asked me my name. I told her and asked hers. She told me and smiled again and I walked on feeling such an appreciation of the beauty she carried. I sat on the beach and watched Sadhus watching younger Western women in bikinis and young western men playing volleyball wondering what they thought of all this and meanwhile the mighty Ganges just kept flowing. I found myself pondering how many centuries the river flowed like this. It seemed a reminder that just as the water was changing, always changing, so is everything and I found this to be restful and reassuring.
Oct 5 we drove from Rishikesh back to Delhi. On the way we stopped at Hardiwar, one of the 7 holiest cities to the Hindus. It was midday. Very hot and the ghats were full of people making offering to the river and bathing. There weren't as many westerners here and a different kind of energy, more raw, more haunting, more immediate. We watched families come to the water, I imagined often after much travelling and sacrifice. There were many people there asking for money, old, disabled, deformed, mothers with young children asking for money. It was very striking to me here, but as it was so hot we left for Delhi. Hot and this isn't even the hot season. On the way to Dehli, our driver, Lekh Raj, who is from Dharamsala continued the amazing dance of driving on the Indian roads. Between cattle, trucks, buses, rickshaws, carts with whole classes of school girls, potholes, haywagons, bicycles, motorcycles, scooters, goats, sheep and much much more he continued to honk constantly, swerve, accelerate, brake. Outside the lushness of the fields growing, the light changing in the day and the Indian ragas playing on the radio carried us into Delhi again.
The next day, Duncan, Rosalyn and Terence went off looking for a camera and Carol and I went to visit an old friend, Andre Poulliot, a woman who is living in Delhi. We met at the Lodi Gardens, a green oasis in the middle of Dehli and she told us about her life there. We have agreed to meet her later for another visit. She will take us to visit a Sufi community there that she knows well. They live at the site of the tomb of a great Sufi saint. One of his gifts was that he gave food to the poor from this site 700 years ago. Every Thursday night the storehouses would be empty and every Friday morning they would be full again, after being locked up through the night. Every Thursday night they do Sufi chanting and so I am looking forward to doing this.
Later that afternoon we got on the overnight train for Varanasi. We tried to rearrange our seats so that we could all sit together but were only partially succesful.. In our little compartment was an Indian man on the way to Varanasi to interview his daughter's prospective husband. When he pulled the curtain to drink his Scotch, I thought oh oh! I think it was just his sleeping pill. He turned out to be a nice man, but suffered from the heat and had trouble breathing. The conductor came by, served us chai and told me there was a shrine on the train and did I want to see it. Away we went, through several cars of people eating, getting ready to sleep, past the cooking car where 3 young men in singlets were preparing food, sweating profusely behind great blasts of flame that leapt up in front of them. In the front of the cooking car was the shrine to Durga. A beautiful statue, flowers, lights, candles. Sitting in front of the altar was a priest who gave us a blessing and all the time we kept moving on through the night. Oct 7 we arrived early in Varanasi, found our driver from the hotel, and got our rooms.
Duncan and I went for a walk to some of the ghats. Carol and I had a room without air conditioning. We just found it too hot to move, either going out or doing anything. We switched rooms and were much better off. I find it necessary sometimes to get out of the heat and we are very grateful for a room with air conditioning where we can re-energize before our next foray outside. I went for another walk through the old sections of Varanasi now largely Moslem. Very narrow winding streets, high buildings, no signs, ashrams, shops, homes, people, cows. Terence said this is one of the oldest cities in the world and this felt like it.. Eventually I happened upon one of the two cremation ghats where I sat and watched several cremations occuring. For Hindu people to be cremated in Varinassi is assurance of not having to be reborn. People come here to die, many waiting for death to occur so they might be released from the cycles of rebirth.
The next morning we got up at 5:30 and went to the river to take a rowboat down the ghats. There are some 90 ghats here extending over 4 miles. As the sun rose over the Ganges we watched people coming to the water to bath, pray and start their days. On the float down the river we stopped at the main cremation ghat and a Brahmin priest took us through the ghat and and explained quite extensively what was happening. There is a ceremonial fire burning here that has burned for 700 years continuously. All of the cremation pyres are lit from this fire. The Buddha on his way to Sarnath to give his first talk, stopped at this ghat and meditated here. If the father has died, the oldest son lights the fire. It the mother, the youngest son. If the wife, then the husband lights the fire. Before the fire is lit, flame is taken from the ceremonial fire and the person walks around the fire 5 times, once for each of the 5 elements, earth, air, fire, water and ether. After the cremation, water is poured on the fire from a clay pot, which is then thrown over the shoulder, breaks and the person does not look back. In this way the soul is sent on it's way and is released.
Later in the day I went with an Indian man from our hotel to the oldest temple here, about 700 years old. We are in the middle of Dusshera, a nine day festival and the temple was full of people making offerings, praying, giving gifts of food, scarves, coconuts. The belief during this festival is that miracles are often granted to those who come to the temple. There was beautiful statues to the 9 manifestations of Lord Shiva's wives. Non-Hindus are not allowed in without a Hindu. So I felt grateful to be able to be there. We then went to a beautiful temple to Lord Rama. It is a relatively recent temple, 50 years old or so, built by one of the wealthiest families in Varanasi. On the walls the entire Ramayana is carved into the marble walls over 2 floors of the building. I watched a man singing the great tale as he read it. We gathered again at our hotel and did a small ceremony in preparation for going back to the main cremation ghat where we wanted to sit after sunset. The Brahmin had told us this was the best time to meditate. Out we went, night now, in rickshaws through the wild chaotic, beautiful streets on a ride that seemed to take forever. Then a walk through the old city, winding, twisting following a man who appeared to help us find our way, no easy task. At the ghat one of the caretakers of a tower there remembered us from the morning and let us up into the tower so we could meditate and pray. Below on two levels of the ghat 10 or 12 cremations were taking place and each of we 5 had our own reflections about life and death.
We came back to the hotel, and on the way back passed elephants and camels, and were told of a Durga parade that would start outside around 11:30. Rosalyn, Carol and I went out, and watched fire twirlers, sword swingers, elephants, camels, carts with statues of Divinities surrounded by multi-colored flashing lights, and carts carrying the characters of the Ramayama, one of the three sacred Hindu texts. The enegy was wild, chaotic, excited. I loved the color, the sound and the celebration of it all. So, off to sleep, tomorrow we go to Sarnath, 13 kilometers away where there are Buddhist temples from all over the world and where the Buddha gave his first talk. We are all well, sinking deeper into our experience daily and feeling day by day more comfortable.
Namaste Jim
posted by HeartoftheWorld | 3:28 AM
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