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 naked children and cows wearing haughty expressions (I assume due to their “sacred mother” status). Early morning is the best time to see the Brahmins preparing the puja, the sacred offering to the river, the chandals, lowest in the caste system, preparing the funeral pyre later to be consigned to the holy river. Children splash in the almost ashy water and women gossip while washing their load of clothes, oblivious to the ghoulish preparations nearby.
As night falls, the inky waters are illuminated with little oil lamps set afloat and sound of the temples bells and the arti, the sacred chant, reverberates through the still night. Hypnotized by the magic of Ganges, I watch the little oil lamps balanced precariously on wide lotus leaves, float merrily heavenwards.
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 naked children and cows wearing haughty expressions (I assume due to their “sacred mother” status). Early morning is the best time to see the Brahmins preparing the puja, the sacred offering to the river, the chandals, lowest in the caste system, preparing the funeral pyre later to be consigned to the holy river. Children splash in the almost ashy water and women gossip while washing their load of clothes, oblivious to the ghoulish preparations nearby.
As night falls, the inky waters are illuminated with little oil lamps set afloat and sound of the temples bells and the arti, the sacred chant, reverberates through the still night. Hypnotized by the magic of Ganges, I watch the little oil lamps balanced precariously on wide lotus leaves, float merrily heavenwards.
Comments
The water is clean and cold too. Quite different from the Ganges we get to see at Varanasi, I am told. I hope to take a trip to Badrinath & Kedarnath in the near future to re-charge my spiritual batteries!
Happy journey...