Varanasi
Varanasi is a Hindu holy city, on the Ganga and filled with asharams. Our hostel, Shanti, overlooked the burning ghats and was across the alley from an ashram. These are where hindu boys go to study sanskrit and holy books like the Ramayana. But they reminded me of boarding schools condensed into one building. Hip young brahmins are dropped off by their parents with all the best intentions but are attracted to flame that are the touts that speak english with the tourists and deal in the seedier side of life. We looked over at these brahmin boys plugged into iPods, strutting, taking photos of each other with their latest mobile phones. Those on the top floor chase the monkeys from their roofs with huge sticks. Those on the floor below fret that the monkeys banging around above will drop down to them. The irony is that when they are all in prayers the monkeys march through in troops of 20 or more and make themselves quite at home as if they own the place.
The rooftops remind me of an Escher picture; staircases run into walls, houses so close together that you could step from one roof to the next, trees and temples poking through all about. It is a forest of crumbling concrete but up here there is space, the breeze blows away the humidity, kites play, and it is the domain of monkeys. At street (gali) level of the old city it is stifling, rarely more than 2 persons wide the cobra alleyways snake around palaces built by marahrajas, decrepit houses disorientating you at every turn. But to make it more treacherous the alleys are filled with cows, dogs, rubbish and shit. Flanking it, stores the size of cupboards sell everything from silk to yogurt (check out the Blue Lassie Shop). Through it all, from the river and the ghats, 24 hours a day, rain or shine, wafts the smoke of burning bodies.
They come to Varanasi to cleanse their karma, enter nirvana, or a quick buck; sadhus, the dead, and the touts. The touts come to you as a "friend" and offer to be your guide, no money required. They then take you on a tour of the silk and perfume shops, who all want your money. The 'free' boat rides from the Shanti guest house even comes with a twist - another hour for 75 rupees each (when finding a boat yourself is 50 rupees). There is almost nowhere to be alone in India and this is never more true than at the ghats in Varanasi. But away from the ghats we visited temples and cruised the Ganges by row boat and had time to ourselves. We sat and watched the prayer to the ganga and did not miss the "hello sir" or "boat ride" called out in half gurgle from a a mouth full of paan.
We arrived in Kolkata covered in a film of grease, the effect of more than 12 hours on a train in the muggy heat of monsoon India. The queues of yellow ambassador taxis funneled out of the station at crawl past what should have been a public street but would better be described as a mass public urinal. We crossed the brown river Hoogly (not unlike the Brisbane river), along tree lined avenues to Sudder St. Kolkata was the British Raj's capital of India and lacks that chaotic feel and oppressive tout presence of Delhi or Mumbai. It has a metro, ferries and trams, and a giant park called the Maiden, The Maiden was once an entire village that was cleared to give the canons a clear line of sight. Eden Gardens cricket stadium is inside the Maiden, which Roselin insisted we visit.
We visited Kalighat, one of the holiest temples in Kolkata. Legend says that part of the immolated wife of Shiva landed here as he prepared to destroy the world in retribution. We were caught by a tout (Temple Official) before we even made to the right block. We were 'ushered' around at a frantic pace and before we even knew the score we were standing at the front of the queue looking down at a seething mass of worshipers and the priest was asking for a 'donation' of 500 Rs each! We pleaded poverty and were let off lightly. It is a chaotic place, not the peacefulness of the Kali temple in Varanasi. There was a queue to get into the inner temple, the front of which we had seen from our privileged vantage point in the bell pavilion. They were pushing and shoving not unlike in a "mosh pit", arms outstretched towards their rock-idol goddess Kali. Behind all of this black kid goats were being regularly sacrificed. They were ritually washed, raised in offering 3 times to Kali and placed in the forks of a chopping block. A man with a large knife bigger than a machete would remove its head in a single below and the worshippers anointed with the blood. It's carcass would be butchered in a matter of minutes for the meat to be taken home. This practice has gone on unchanged since before the British, as we would later see from the sketches in the Victoria Monument. Victoria Monument is a grand marble building that now acts as a museum chronicling the history of Kolkata. There, a very patriotic, Roselin declared herself to be Australian three times to avoid paying the local entrance fee of 10 rupees, so we paid 150 instead.
It wasn't planned, but we decided to volunteer for 2 days at Mother Teresa's mission while we were in Kolkata. I think Roselin was inspired by her story when we went to Mother House. We walked from Sudder St. past the locals bathing at the communal wells. It was already humid at 7:00 AM and it seemed like we had joined a procession of foreigners all heading to the same destination. There were 40 to 50 volunteers in the common room taking advantage of the sweet milk tea, bananas and white bread for breakfast; French, Americans, Spanish and mainly women. We decided to work at Daya Dan with the disabled children. The children were certainly better off for being there, they are fed, clean and have a place to sleep; the alternative would not be a life at all. Most are found 'living' on the streets, some are blind, others unable to walk, some are severely mentally disabled. The foreign 'Aunties' and 'Uncles' help in anyway they can; cleaning, laundry, and feeding the children. We also joined in play time and the familiar calls of "carry me" reminded me of my own nieces. It was a rewarding couple of days and I am sure Roselin would have stayed longer given the chance.
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