This is how one local would introduce me to Varanasi: “Welcome to the city of cow shit and bull shit.” I thought he was just being cute and practicing his English like many other Indian youngsters. But indeed he was telling me an unfortunate truth.
I actually thought I could find peaceful refuge here from the chaos that is India. Varanasi is the holiest city in the country. I wasn’t totally out of line to think a place like this could give me a break from the intensity of India. But was I in for a surprise.
Sure, there are Saddhus (holy men) all over the city and I found people praying at all hours of the day.
But what I also found were aggressive shop owners hassling me in excess, money grubbing schemers and beggars wishing me ill, and holy cows taking dumps all over the walkways.
It was hardly the serene and sacred experience I envisioned.
When I say “aggressive shop owners,” I mean people who will leave their shops in the hands of other workers (or no one at all) and follow me around town for an hour – AN HOUR! – to make sure I come back to their shop to buy something. This hour will consist of them telling me that the scarf I just expressed an interest in at one shop, is available at their shop too. This hour will consist of them asking me all about my travels, my family, my job, my marital status, what I ate for lunch. This hour will consist of them telling me what sights I should see and then leading me to them, while ignoring the things I’ve said I wanted to see. All the meanwhile, I’m trying to explore a new city at my leisure, and realizing “leisure” is not in the Varanasi vocabulary. Despite all my polite attempts to get rid of these guys, I was doomed to have someone following me around any time I stepped outside. And when that guy finally left, some other guy from some other shop would step in and take his place without missing a beat. I nearly lost my head trying to fend them off.
Schemers and beggars were in abundance as well, particularly at the open-air cremations. My friend Maja and I had been warned that when we arrive at the observation area, people will insist on payment for being there or for “guide services.” There is no cost for viewing a cremation ceremony in Varanasi and anyone who tells you otherwise is lying. So when we were approached, we politely told the guy we wanted to watch the ceremonies in peace and that we would not be giving him any money. He carried on anyway, describing the ceremony, explaining its history, yada yada yada, stuff we already knew. He wouldn’t stop talking. Which of course was annoying considering we were witnessing something very intense. The kicker was when we left. When it was clear we would not be giving anyone our money, Maja and I were told, “You are bad people” and that we would have “bad karma.” One guy stuck his hand out to Maja and said she was a bad person but that if she shook his hand, he’d pass on good karma to her. WTF!
What exactly makes this city so holy?
Maybe it’s the cows. Ah yes, the cows. Cows are considered sacred in the Hindu religion – you can’t so much as find a beef burger at McDonald’s in this country. Holy cows roam the already overpopulated, traffic-jammed streets of India. And they pooooop. Man, do they poop. Here, there, everywhere. The riverside section of Varanasi where I stayed is a maze of crazy little laneways and it’s not uncommon to yield to a herd of cows or go slipping and sliding on fresh poo. I actually found it to be quite cute and charming to share space with these holy beasts. They actually made me smile. The amount of feces all over the place just didn’t leave a very holy aroma in my nostrils, and my poo-splattered feet and flip flops weren’t exactly feeling sacred.
Ok. Enough with the complaining. Varanasi did have some highlights, most notably the boat ride I took on the Ganges River at sunrise. It really is a beautiful city. And if I’m not mistaken, it’s one of the oldest cities in the world. Here are some photos.
For more photos, check out my blog entry, To Bathe or Not to Bathe in the Ganges River.