Varanasi

Written March 27, 2009

The Ganges sparkles with hundreds of candles floating on the water. The air is filled with the sound of bells and the music of the nightly puja ceremony. The breeze is warm and, I'm afraid, filled with a slight smokey musk coming from the cremation fires nearby. I wonder what David Whyte would write if he was sitting here...listening to, watching and breathing in the faith in this holy place.

A colorful place of chaos and total devotion. Sadhus with dreadlocks, half-clothed in orange, with red and white spiritual paint on their foreheads. Men, women and children bathing, doing laundry, drinking, worshiping the water whole-heartedly. The water, to them, is pure regardless of what anyone else says. It comes directly from God through the mountains. Small, intricate shrines line the small alleyways – the deities covered in flowers, colorful clothes and paints. People are in the water with the candles, flowers and pedals floating by as offerings to the holy river.

It really is incredible – the devotion. I think of the mosques in Cairo, but I’m still not sure that I have ever seen such a display of faith as I have seen here. Nor have I seen a body of water take such a powerful form – as though it is alive. The devotion of so many makes it feel alive… if I hold my breath, will I hear the Ganges breathe?

Although I feel this was enough of a taste for me right now, alone, I feel fortunate to have been here. A taste of India – a large gulp of the Hindu faith and the holiness of the Ganges river.