Spices and Travel

Stepping out of my warm bed, I make my way to the kitchen. I fill the kettle with water. Bleakly, I wait for the water to boil. I add black tea leaves, crushed cardamom and cinnamon. The water comes to a full boil. My body, mind and senses start tingling as the smell of tea and spices waft from the kettle. To this dark decoction, I add generous amount of milk and sugar. I let the tea steep for a minute. I pour out a tall cup of the sweet tea, or Chai - an invigorating way to start my day. As I sip my Chai, my mind wanders back to my travel in India. Chai is the beverage that is the common thread that runs from the length and breadth of India - Kashmir to Kanyakumari, Surat to Patna - “unity in diversity.” The whole country is dotted with numerous Chai stalls and from dawn to dusk, thousands of people converge into these stalls (think about the squares in Europe) – office goers, laborers, philosophers, poets, writers and occasional tourists. Anytime is an occasion to have a cup of Chai.

My six months of travel in India is culminating today with a visit to the holiest cities – Varanasi. The “holy” status is conferred upon this city, along with Benares, Kashi and Rishikesh, due to the fact that the river Ganges flows through them. According to the Hindu mythology, Goddess Ganga descended from heaven in response to the prayers of King Bhagiratha, whose ancestors were reduced to ashes by the curse of Sage Kapila. Lord Shiva agrees to break Ganga’s fall to earth by taking her on his head and safely knotting her in his matted hair. From there Ganga continued her journey to the place where the ashes of King Bhagiratha’s ancestors lay, liberating them with her magical waters. Millions of devout Hindus throng to these holy cities to bathe in the Ganges, believed to wash away one’s sins and ensure a smooth journey heavenward towards moksha, the eternal freedom. The riverbank or Ghats are a sight to behold with saffron robed sadhus (holy men), devotees, flower sellers, half nake