A lot has happened since I last had the opportunity to write so I'll try to be either concise or, more likely, try to give a few brief illustrations that I hope you'll find interesting. I'm now writing from the heart of Kolkata (the post independence, de-Anglicized name for the city that used to be Calcutta).
I left off as I arrived in Varanasi. I wish I had the words to describe this place but I'm not entirely sure it's even possible. V'nasi is, in a sense, a microcosm of India. It is to India what India is to the world and, just like India, many love it and many hate it but most develop a complicated and personal love-hate relationship with the place. The hotel where I spent most of my time was about a block removed from the part of the Ganges where a constant parade of dead bodies was carried, day and night, to their open-air funeral pyres. I don't know of anywhere else in the world where the line between life and death has been so blurred; the two so intermingled.
I've also never seen a people so obsessed with the sky. There are often more kites in the sky than the hundreds of birds, themselves being fed along the waterfront and led in enormous arks across the sky by men on rooftops, taunting them with food and scaring them off with enormous sticks and flags. The influence of the elements on people's psyche is also incredibly interesting. In most places, the earth is the dominant natural force in people's lives. So, too, the ocean or, in mountainous towns, so, too, the sky -- but always coupled with the weight of the earth below; the rock, the sand, &c. Not so in Varanasi. The thin, labyrinthine alleys, patrolled by minotaur-like bulls, make up the entire old town; all growth is upward. As I mentioned, the sky is a major influence. As is the river, the focal point of the entire town. It's virtual raison d'etre. In courts people swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and so forth with a hand placed over Ganges water. It's a big deal. And fire. Few places in the world are so dominated by fire. But unlike volcanic lands and other natural-fire type places, the constant fire here is that which I mentioned above -- the constant burning of corpses along the riverside. And so I've developed a theory that this abnormal balance of basic natural influences in people's lives is a large part of the totally unique "feeling" of V'nasi, the feeling that so many people wandering through describe as addictive. It's not uncommon for people to arrive with the intention of staying for a week and wind up spending a month or two wandering the alleys and ghats of Varanasi.
I, however, had a set date for my departure from the moment I arrived. Two weeks later I was back on the train, headed to Bodhgaya, the historical place where the Buddha finally achieved enlightenment. Here I had enrolled in a meditation course. I won't say much about it since it's so similar to the ones offered in the US.
--- Intermission ---
A testament to the enduring capability of foot power and another reminder of the abject poverty all around, Kolkata is one of the last places where you still see an abundance of foot-powered rickshaws. There's a guy in front of my hotel who can be found either sitting or sleeping on/under his rickshaw at all hours of the day. Unlike many of his fellow rickshaw "drivers," I've never actually seen this fellow pulling anybody.
A view from the hills: the peak at the top right of this photograph, named Katchenjunga (sp?), is the third-tallest peak in the world. Here, it's a slightly fake looking backdrop to the mountain city of Darjeeling.
Despondent looks from a guy in an aisle of many others, just like him, selling these fuzzy hand puppets who squeal and fire their tongues into the air when you squeeze your hands. The men selling the things in question, staring at each other squealing all day, by noon all look like they want to kill themselves.
A peak from the back of an enormous tent of His Holiness the Dalai Lama in a mid-lecture pose.
No comments:
Post a Comment