Varanasi...Holi Shit!!

See our pictures of Holi at
Holi
See our other pictures of Varanasi 
Varanasi#

A bit of a low point with the crowds and heat and filth of Agra...then BANG! Varanasi and we are back on track.

Varanasi was everything everyone claimed, and more. We saw and did a lot there in just a few days, but a couple of experiences were exceptional. The main event was Holi, a Hindu festival celebrating rebirth in spring. The big activity is spraying colored water on one another, sort of a country-wide squirt gun fight that can ruin your clothes.

Our preparation for Holi began the day before. Jemma, Linda, Roger, LLoyd, and Laurent ( yes, more new bffs ) hit the shops. The boys wanted to wear white shirts, better to show the colors. We found ourselves in a tiny shop in a twisted back alley of the old town. Shrewd bargains were made, and cheap white shirts were in our possession. In a brilliant, never-used-before shopping strategy, Roger, tried on a white dhoti (blousy, trouser- type garment). As he slipped the pants on over his clothes, he said, "Did someone shit in these pants!? Look at this!!" Indeed, the dhoti was less than pristine, with something resembling crap inside. A puzzled Roger then added, "Oh, it's cow shit, and it's from my shoes." Indeed, his sandals were coated with a fresh layer. "I'm sorry, but I still can't buy these, they don't fit." said Rog apologetically. The shop owner replied, "I can't sell them now, you take them for free. Happy Holi." A Holi miracle, if you wish. Next time you go shopping, remember the cow-shit trick. I don't know if Khol's will fall for it, but it's worth a shot.

We met at the rooftop restaurant on Holi morning to prepare for the big event. The hotel warned us not to go out at all, it's not safe for foreigners, no women should go, the people are drunk, we are worried for your safety, blah, blah, blah. Linda and Jemma were still on the fence about going, since they are girls and have common sense. A National Geographic crew was at our hotel  and was going out to document Holi.  Ursula, their Slovenian tour director, reassured the girls, who decided to venture out. Kevin and Paul joined our posse. We mixed our colored powders with water, filled our bottles and totally crappy, useless new squirt guns, took our "before" pictures, and set off.

We went to the ghats (open, river-side stepped terraces) rather that the streets, knowing that we could at least find our way back to the hotel when necessary. Water balloons started splatting, and we thought, "Fun!" We walked toward the main ghat, where there was more action. There was also "police protection" (ha!) there, too. At that time, naive as we were, we didn't know the police were drinking and/or sleeping on duty. The color throwing began in earnest, and we were doused. The pre-pubescent boys were the worst (aren't they always?), grabbing our guns, arms, and breasts, and rubbing color on our faces. Linda and Jemma decide 5 minutes is PLENTY of fun-time, and the gallant men walked the girls back home, assuring their safety. Thanks, fellas!

The guys' adventures continued. When they returned to the hotel, other groups were returning as well, and there was great camaraderie among the Holi participants. Grins all around. Since a picture speaks 1000 words, we'll let the photos tell that part of the story. Roger ran into several people the next day who remembered him as the man wearing a kota with no pants. Oh that Roger....

That same evening our group took a sunset boat ride on the Ganges to the burning ghat. This is the place where bodies are cremated on the riverbank. People travel from all parts of India to die in Varanasi because they believe that dying here frees them from the karma cycle of rebirth, and so they attain Nirvana. Only a few categories of people are NOT cremated; children, pregnant women, and saddhus (holy men) because they are pure, lepers, because they have suffered, and cobra-bite victims because they might awaken from a coma-like state.

Families raise the money for the wood for the fire, and some shave their heads as a sign of mourning. The family carries the body to the river for a ceremonial washing, then places it on the wood pyre and douses it with ghee, clarified butter. A man lights a handful of long grasses from the eternal fire. This fire has been continually burning since before written records were kept here, over 5000 years. The man with the burning grasses walks around the body five times to release the soul from the five earthly elements; water, air, earth, fire, and ether (soul). Then he lights the fire, which burns about three hours. The family watches and drinks chai. We saw five fires burning at a time, and this is done 24/7, every single day.

 Watching this at night was a soul-gripping experience. Our boatman was ready to return us to our ghat, so we reluctantly left. We decided, though, that we needed to return, so we walked back. On the way, we crossed a "river of shit" (our pet name), where the open sewer runs across the ghat and over the steps to the river. Following Paul, Linda cleverly stepped right into a deep spot. Bottled water helped to temporarily remedy the situation, Linda stopped gagging, and we continued on. We then passed a puja (worship ceremony) to Shiva, with drums, bells, incense, fire, and costumed dancers. Of course, we had to stop to watch. Those drums and bells are hypnotic, and we stayed a while. Arriving back on the burning ghat, we just stood, observed, and tried to take it all in. Its not an easy thing to do, with our Western minds and habits. A woman we met at our hotel had said, after three months of Indian travel, you have to open your heart to begin to understand India, it can't be comprehended just with the mind. Amen.

So, a brief summary of this amazing day: colored water fight, minor assault on the women, laughing until our faces hurt, boat ride, death, music, worship, stepping in crap.Yes, we're in India alright!