Tso Moriri, Ladakh

Tso Moriri, Ladakh

Thursday, March 28, 2013

There's something about Varanasi - Part 3 - 'Of Boatmen and Massuers'

The sun rises over the Ganga

Mornings in Varanasi were pretty magical. On the first morning the Ghats were quiet and peaceful where one got to watch a spectacular sunrise over the Ganga, people going about their morning duties, a few bathers and mostly tourists. The second morning on the other hand was vastly different. Apparently hordes of sadhu’s (holy men) from the Maha kumbh mela at Allahabad had set up camp in Varanasi and I couldn’t be happier that they did. One has to be extremely lucky to have a radically different experience in the exact same spot on back to back days.

It may also have been an auspicious bathing day since there seemed like so many more people washing off their sins in the Ganges. At some places it was like an almost-nudist colony but nobody was batting an eyelid. Since I’ve never sinned, I didn’t feel the need to jump into the river and cleanse myself. 

Washing away their sins
My favorite Sadhu
And of course my life being what it is, there had to also be an amusing incident on the cards. Once the sun was up and we were done clicking, what seemed like a million pictures, we decided to sit on the steps and just relax for a while. A lean, elderly, scruffy old man came up to me and held out his hand. I did the polite thing and shook it, assuming that he was just being friendly. Except that he wouldn’t let go of my hand and began massaging it, slowly working his way up to my arm and shoulders. To the right of me I could see Aparna giggling and to the left of me there was this local sadhu looking guy with an amused expression on his face. The apparently eighty year old masseur, a little guy who made me look gigantic, certainly knew what he was doing and it felt pretty damn good. He convinced me to lie on my stomach right there on the steps while he worked on my back and legs. Meanwhile tourists kept stopping by and taking pictures. I tried to get them to pay me for the photos but they just laughed and moved on. I could see from Aparna’s pictures later why it would have looked so hilarious as he sat on my butt and worked on my back.

The 80 year old masseur

Funny memories are our favorite, aren’t they? Especially at the expense of others. 

We had been for a boat ride the first morning but Aparna was very unhappy with our boatman. “He’s supposed to tell us stories,” she kept saying. “That’s supposed to be the best part of going on a boat ride.” I never remember stories anyway so I couldn’t care less but I thought that pretending to agree with her was the right thing to do.

So since our first boat ride wasn’t satisfactory, Aparna checked with a friend who referred Tinku to us for the second morning. Tinku had stories coming out of everywhere, most of which I think he was making up. The funniest thing is that after about five minutes Aparna stopped listening. So much for her complaining the previous day. We couldn’t however get Tinku to shut up, so when he suggested that he could also sing bhajans or devotional songs, it seemed like a good way to keep him occupied, while we continued to take photos! On a side note, I really did enjoy listening to his bhajans and even joined him during the chorus.



On the second day we rented a cab to take us sightseeing. As soon as we left the ancient city and started driving past shopping malls, we knew that we had made a mistake. We wanted to go back right away. Our taxi driver was having a hard time figuring us out. “But you’ve paid me for 8 hours,” he said. "Don't you want to go to ..... (rattling off names of places)?". It didn’t matter that we had paid for the entire day or that there were all these places that he was suggesting we visit. All we wanted was to go back. While we did make it to Sarnath and pretended to be interested, it just wasn’t working for us. He was happy that we’d saved him time and fuel. We were happy to be where we were supposed to be.

“It feels so good to be back,” commented Aparna as we jostled our way through the narrow lanes, feeling like we were back home, even though we had only arrived the previous morning. 

I couldn’t agree more with her. It most certainly was a relief to be ‘home’. “Let’s celebrate our return with a samosa,” I said, as we walked towards this giant cauldron dishing out delectable treats. 


To be continued ....

Thursday, March 7, 2013

There's something about Varanasi - Part 2 - 'Look out for the Poop'


It was already 1 pm and I hadn’t eaten anything since dinner, the previous night. But before I could think about feeding myself, I had to get done with my morning business and brush my teeth. So it was imperative that we get to the hotel as quickly as we could and not head to a saree store instead where Aparna wanted me to help pick a saree for her mother. “Our rooms aren’t ready yet,” she tried convincing me as I got grumpier by the second. 

The narrow lanes, with a
Japanese signboard?
As the shopping ordeal ended and we finally began making our way towards the hotel, Aparna, who had been around for a couple of hours and was now well-versed with the art of walking in the old city, kept asking me to keep my eyes on the road. “You’re going to step into poop”, she said. Maneuvering through the narrow lanes chock-a-bloc with humans, stray dogs, cows and the occasional cycle or motor cycle while watching out for cow poop, plus carrying on a conversation, was interesting to say the least. To give you a perspective, a motorcycle in these lanes could be a bigger bully than a Hummer on a side-street. Mostly lined with shops on both sides, a couple of times I had to jump into one of them to make way for traffic. Or a large cow! Could be a fun video game. 



Our hotel was much nicer than what I was expecting. And the best part was that it was right on the Ghat. What I was however, not expecting, was to be greeted with a garland of red roses as I started to walk inside. In fact I was so busy talking that I didn’t even notice someone waiting to pounce over me with it, until it actually happened. Aparna, of course was cracking up, saying “I couldn’t wait to see the expression on your face!”. 

On the left is the Dasaswamedh Ghat where the evening aarti takes place. To the right, the red steps lead to our hotel.
Our first day was completely packed. Got to mention here that thanks to Aparna’s brother-in-law,we were introduced to two wonderful gentlemen living in the city that were fantastic hosts. Whether it was shopping, getting a tour of the weavers looms, excellent seating for the evening prayers or recommendations on where we should eat, mostly Vijay and sometimes Vinay went out of their way to be helpful. 

Our lunch place, an interesting little restaurant called Niyati Cafe, though came as a recommendation from a French gentleman who we ran into. Little did I know at the time that Niyati would become my favorite hangout and the owner, Ravi Prakash, my best buddy!

Ravi Prakash, owner/chef of Niyati Cafe with Aparna
The 42 year old weaver


Besides being the oldest living city in the world, Varanasi is also famous for it’s hand woven fabric. Which sadly is a dying business. Cheap imitations and machine made textiles have forced most weavers to move to different professions and this dying trade is now confined to small, run-down looms, which in all probability will cease to exist in another decade or two. One of the weavers I talked to mentioned that he had been doing this for the past twenty years. “How old are you?” I asked him, a little surprised. If  I were to guess his age, I would have said ’30’. He was apparently 42. Have a look at his picture. Watching these men work at dingy workshops, I couldn’t help but feel a little sad.

My most and least favorite parts of the first day were both religion related. The evening aarti or prayers, a one-hour long, grandly decorated, brightly lit, tastefully choreographed and attended by thousands was magical. Even though I was continuously clicking pictures, I still felt that I was in a trance. There was a group of tourists from Brazil sitting around me. I, being my usual friendly self had exchanged smiles and several words with them. One of the women in a heavy accent said to me, “Isn’t this the most incredible thing you’ve ever seen?”. I nodded and smiled, thinking to myself that you don’t have to belong to any religion or even be religious to appreciate a beautiful prayer service. 



My least favorite part of the day was visiting the Kashi Vishvanath Temple. The less I speak about it, the better. In fact it’s best if I don’t speak about it at all. 

By the time we ended our day it was near midnight. I hadn’t showered. Hadn’t changed my clothes since the previous morning. I seemed to be fitting in very well with my surroundings. It had been a long and tiring day. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to sleep right away as my mind was still hyperactive from the constant stimulation. I went online and found out that the sun was expected to rise at 6 am. 

“I’ll see you in the lobby at 5:45 am”, I said to Aparna, checking the soles of my shoes for poop.

To be continued ....

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

There's something about Varanasi - Part 1 'Getting There'


Until about five years ago, I would turn up my nose at the thought of visiting Varanasi. Probably because all I’d heard about the city was that it was dirty and it stunk. I guess at the time I was more immature (it’s possible), more superficial and not willing to look beyond the grime. And then something in me changed. I wish I could tell you what it was that changed, but all of a sudden Varanasi became this fascinating city that I had to go see for myself.

My friend Aparna, who lives in Chicago and visits India every winter, was also very keen and so we decided to go there together. After two unsuccessful attempts of turning these plans into reality, we finally made it there last month. Of course it had to be the year of the Maha Kumbh Mela in nearby Allahabad, something that takes place once every 12 years and attracts millions of people.  Many of who include Varanasi into their itinerary. Which meant that getting train tickets and a desirable hotel wasn’t exactly easy, even though we began trying in the first week of January. 

My train was supposed to reach Varanasi just before 8 am on the 18th of February and Aparna’s around 9 am. Instead I was about 3 hours late so she got there before I did. After two attempts at shoddy auto-rickshaws that kept breaking down, the third one finally got me to this place called Godowlia Chowk, after which I would have to walk about 1/2 a kilometer to get to the spot where Aparna would be waiting for me. 

At this point I have to mention that my chatty auto-rickshaw driver, Golu Prajapati, not only drove me to my destination but was an excellent guide on the way.  He also told me all about his family, where they grew up, how many children he has etc. He gave me his number so I could call him for any local sight-seeing and to be dropped back to the train station on the 20th. In the less than 30 minute ride, I had gotten to know Golu as though he was an old friend. I feel like an idiot though for not having his picture.

As I got out of the rickshaw, all I could see was a sea of people. It could have been an intimidating site for the old me, but this more-mature me was completely relaxed. Golu instructed me to walk towards the right of the Chowk (crossing). With my luggage in hand, I began maneuvering into the crowd, reminding myself that this was so much easier than the time I was on 5th Avenue in New York City around Christmas, being pushed by crazy tourists who wanted to get a look at the store-windows. I got to the spot and called Aparna who said that she was there and was looking out for me. Suddenly she went, “I see you” as I heaved a sigh of relief, because for the life of me I had no idea where she was.

And then there she was a moment later, standing directly in front of me. We looked at each other and broke out into peals of laughter. We kept laughing until our sides hurt and when we finally stopped, we gave each other a hug. We were finally in this ancient city called Varanasi - our adventure was about to begin!

To be continued .....

The cliched India photo. Close to where I was supposed to meet Aparna.