Holy Water The Sacred Ganges River Draws Pilgrims And Travelers Alike To The Holy City Of Varanasi

I am trapped. Ahead of me in the narrow alley looms a stocky Indian bull, his pointed horns blocking my path down to the river. In the darkness behind me a mongrel dog bares his teeth and growls, irritated at being awakened as I creep past at 4:30 a.m. on my way to the banks of the Ganges River.

I gape at the bull, who stares back belligerently. The dog advances. With no bullfighting experience and a strong aversion to rabies, I wrap my camera-bag strap around my wrist, and prepare for whichever animal charges first.

Luck - or perhaps Ganesh, the Hindu god of good fortune - must be watching over me. As I search frantically for an escape route, a wooden door swings open, and a large man bursts out and roars at the barking dog in a blast of foreign words. As the beast slinks away, the man turns to me, smiles, and with a distinct British accent, says, “I am thinking his bark was worse than his bite.” With that, he ducks back into his doorway and is gone. Shaken, I inch warily past the bull and continue toward the river.

Like many visitors to northern India, I am on my way to the famous ghats of Varanasi, nearly four miles of stone terraces and steps lining the banks of the Ganges River. One of the world’s oldest cities, Varanasi is the holiest of India’s seven most significant pilgrimage sites. Here, along the great curve in the river, are palaces built by Indian princes, and temples and shrines dedicated to a pantheon of Hindu gods.

Each morning at sunrise the ghats fill with pilgrims from across India. They come to bathe in the sacred waters of the Ganges to cleanse the soul and remove sins.

This morning loudspeakers jarred me awake before dawn, broadcasting devotional singing from the Golden Temple adjacent to my guest house. Pulling on my clothes, I stumbled through the chilly back alleys to the banks of the holy Ganges.

Arriving in the pre-dawn darkness along the river, I am met by the gentle hum of chanting from hundreds of Hindu devotees who have come to immerse themselves in the river. As I walk amid the curling smoke of funeral pyres, the tinkle of finger cymbals, and singing of Hindu priests, the black eastern sky lightens to violet. The prayers rise in pitch as the sun’s first rays spill across the river and wash the temple turrets and pilgrims faces in warm rose hues. I feel like an intruder, yet no one seems to mind my presence. Taking a deep breath, I plunge into the crowd.

As if on signal, brown bodies duck waist-deep into the swirling green water as small, palm-frond boats filled with orange marigolds drift downstream. Chants float through the fragile light and seem to hover above the sparkling river mists. A collective sigh rises. Wave after wave of devotees wade into the river, merging with the flow and praying toward the rising sun. Mesmerized, I lose track of time.

As I walk along the ghats, women clad in dazzling saris bathe discreetly, while robust young men do yoga exercises. Beneath bamboo umbrellas, Brahmin priests dab the foreheads of bathers with red pigment. Indian holy men, or Saddhus, some clad in orange or saffron robes, others wearing only brief loincloths, wander the ghats. One with gentle eyes and a long white beard balances a child on his knee, while several more squat at his feet. Another sits in full lotus position and stares into the far distance, worlds removed from the scene unfolding before him. I feel like an infidel among the faithful.

My senses kick into overload as the morning progresses. Soft mists rise above the temple spires as the first golden light of dawn strikes the rooftops, sending monkeys screeching and scampering overhead. Strange dialects bounce from temple walls. And wherever I go, India’s aromas assault me; frying food, wood smoke, rotting fruit, cow dung, and untold tropical scents combine in an unforgettable tang.

I walk upriver to smoky Manikarnika ghat, where bodies are placed on log pyres and cremated. It’s a somber, gray place, with none of the festivity of other ghats. Cringing at the thought of inhaling smoke from those fires, I find a terrace upwind to sit and look as four bodies burn.

To die in Varanasi is assurance of achieving moksha, or spiritual release from the cycle of birth, death, and rebirth. Many orthodox Hindus come here to pass their final days. Below me at water’s edge, two dogs fight over a remnant of burnt bone in the ashes. Having seen enough, I move on.

As the sun climbs overhead, I hire a boat and guide to row along the riverbank. Gliding past the ghats, keeping a respectful distance from devotees, I watch as streams of pilgrims emerge from the shadows and spill into the morning light. A nearby splash betrays a freshwater porpoise breaking the surface. Colors ripple across the water like an impressionist painting.

But there’s more to Varanasi than the ghats. Leaving the Ganges, I disappear into the old city, a winding maze of narrow streets directly above the river. Too cramped for anything but people and cows, it’s a lively place to roam.

Weathered houses with wood shutters rise on either side, casting shade over the cobbled lanes. Neighbors gather to talk, while vendors selling bananas, cashews, and curry spices shoo away wandering cows. Pilgrims hasten to the river.

As the day ends, I find a small courtyard restaurant down a side lane. Halfway through a spicy platter of curried vegetables and unleavened bread called chapati, I look up as four men stride past my table carrying a stretcher with a small body wrapped in filmy white cotton. This man is being burned tomorrow, my waiter explains. Death is all around me, yet no one else seems concerned.

My appetite gone, I watch the men walk into a small temple at the back of the courtyard. Bells ring, and a Brahmin priest appears from a side door and begins a complex ritual with candles, incense, oil and chanting.

In my room after dinner, I lie back and listen to the sounds of beating drums and clashing cymbals drifting through my window from the Golden Temple. Away from the crowds, my mind races through a jumble of disturbing mental pictures. Holy men smiling while corpses burn. The elderly calmly waiting to die. Marigolds and ashes mingling in the river to form garish streaks of orange and gray floating toward the sea. Images that defy comprehension.

Few places can match Varanasis capacity for hurling the traveler from the commonplace to the extraordinary. Today was no exception.

Map of area.

MEMO: This sidebar appeared with the story: IF YOU GO Visas are required for U.S. citizens, and can be obtained at Indian consulate offices in San Francisco, (415) 668-0662; New York City (212) 879-7800; and Washington, DC (202) 939-7000. Travel: Most visitors travel to Varanasi from Delhi, reached by air from major East and West coast U.S. cities. Prices range from $1,050 to $1,500. Flights leave daily from Delhi to Varanasi, costing around $74. For a view of the real India not found through the window of a tour bus, book a sleeper berth on the Howrah Express, the overnight train from Delhi. It leaves Delhi at 4 p.m. each day and arrives in Varanasi 13 hours later. Delhi is also a good base for exploring the Taj Mahal at Agra. Accommodations: Budget hotels in the $2-$10 range abound in the old city area by the river. Close proximity to the ghats and local color make this the prime lodging area for budget travelers. Yogi Guest House at D8/29 Kalika Gali (tel. 32-2588, $1.50-$3.50/room), long a favorite among backpackers, is several minutes walk from the river. Golden Lodge at D8/35 Kalika Lane (tel. 32-3832, $2-$3.50/room) offers a pleasant rooftop patio. Vishnu Guest House (no phone, $2-$3/room) is located right on the river at Pandey Ghat, and has a nice patio cafe overlooking the Ganges. More expensive hotels can be found north of the railway station along the quieter, tree-lined avenues in the Cantonment area. Clarks Hotel on The Mall (tel. 46-771, fax 34-8186, $40-90/room) is possibly the nicest hotel in Varanasi. Built during the British era, it has been extensively remodeled, with swimming pool and plush, air-conditioned rooms. Next door at 15 The Mall is the Hotel Varanasi Ashok (tel. 46-020, fax 34-8089, $40-75/room), with pool and pleasant garden. Cuisine: Curry is the basis of Indian cuisine. Unlike the bland yellow powder found in your local supermarket, true curry is a masala, or unique blend, of freshly ground spices such as coriander, pepper, chilies, cumin, cloves and cinnamon. Restaurants serving curry dishes can be found throughout Varanasi. Curries flavor vegetables, lamb, chicken or fish. Look for spinach and cheese, eggplant, and potato and chickpea curries. A classic northern Indian specialty is Tandoori chicken, marinated in spices and yogurt, then baked in a clay oven. Since cows are holy in India, don’t expect to find beef on the menu. A variety of delicious Indian breads ranging from simple chapattis to deep-fried puri and thick, baked nan accompany most meals. A side dish of dahi, or yogurt, helps cool down Western palates unaccustomed to hot curries. Restaurants: For excellent Indian curries and breads, try the Poonam Restaurant in the Pradeep Hotel (off Raja Bazaar Road). Keshari restaurant, in the lane opposite Banaras Lodge in the Godaulia district, is known for its plates piled high with a variety of curried vegetables, rice, relishes, bread and yogurt. The Clark’s Hotel restaurant offers stylish surroundings, uniformed waiters, and meticulously prepared Indian dishes. Many of the budget hotels in the old city have restaurants offering inexpensive, tasty meals. Weather: October-February is the cool, dry season for Varanasi; bring a jacket for the crisp evenings. The hot season begins in March, and by May it can become unbearable during the day. The monsoons usually begin around June, bringing cooling rain almost daily. Health: Although not required, vaccinations for cholera, typhoid, and tetanus are recommended. Hepatitis and malaria are potential risks; see your doctor for current precautions. Medical care in India is basic. Avoid unpurified water, uncooked vegetables and fruit you can’t peel yourself. Who should go: India is not an easy country to visit. Expect to be confronted by noise, poverty, Indian bureaucracy and unsanitary conditions. On the other hand, if you’re looking for ancient temples, colorful history, mystical religious rites, holy men, and a culture far removed from America, India is the place for you.