March 27, 2005Dear Friends,
We have now come down the hills from Nainital to the plains of
Varanasi (aka Benaras, Banaras and ancient Kashi.) It is said that
Varanasi is the oldest continuously existing city in the world (Mark
Twain said it looked even older than that!)
When Ram is your tour guide, much that is unanticipated will
happen; this trip to Varanasi is one of those unanticipated
happenings. We are here by Ram's prompting and design. The interior
of the city is difficult, many touts vying for your attention. But
along the river Ganga it is relatively quiet and there is a definite
spiritual feeling to it.
We were greeted here by Shree Mahendra Yadav, a very sweet,
devout man who runs a Sanskrit school here for boys, Paramhansa
Ashram. KK Gyonko and his mother’s side of the family have been
instrumental in the building of this small ashram/school, and there
is a lovely, modern flat above it for visitors (not heavily used I
think.) This affords us a nice place to reside while journeying out
on different pilgrimages; it comes with its own cook as well.
A primary interest when coming here was Saranath, the location
where the Buddha gave his first sermon. It was a one-hour taxi ride
to get there from Paramhansa Ashram. We had a special edition Ram as
our driver. As the elderly man wended his way through traffic of
auto and bicycle rickshaws, buses, lorries, taxis, pedestrians,
cows, goats, dogs and what all, he proceeded to give lessons, in
Hindi, to the other occupants of the road with great glee. He would
laugh at someone’s presumed folly on the road, then go on in a blue
streak, interspersed with chuckles and guffaws giving
unsolicited¾but I am sure sage¾advice to one and all. He used his
horn liberally (even by Indian standards, and that is saying quite a
lot!) Sometimes he was so enthusiastic about the use of his horn,
the traffic would have cleared and he was still sitting in the
middle of the road, forgetting to move on himself. He was a
delightful Ram whose color was added to by his lack of teeth and red
betel staining his lips. Wherever you turn there is no end to the
entertainment Ram will provide for His pilgrims!
At last we reach Saranath (in one piece) and unload into the
museum. What wonders of form have been carved into stone. Sculptures
from the 3rd century on reveal a beauty in line and curve, all
depicting the Lord Buddha. There is one Buddha from the fifth
century that is exquisite in all detail, described as a masterpiece,
which it certainly is. There is a pillar from King Asoka that
depicts lions (bravery), an elephant (from the dream the mother of
the Buddha had while she was pregnant with him) and a horse (the
faithful animal he rode out of his old life to his sadhana and
destiny.) This magnificently carved “capital” is now used as the
symbol of India on its currency etc.
We then strolled over the grounds where the Buddha gave his first
sermon. The landmark is the 34-meter high Dhamek Stupa, a stone
structure that at one time is said to have reached 100 meters. On
the grounds are the archeological digs revealing a temple complex
were 1500 monks once lived. The Stupa has stones dating back to 200
years before Christ. What a wonderful feeling of peace pervades the
air there. Next door is a park with a population of deer with large
antlers. It is said, reminiscent of St. Francis, the deer themselves
overcame their shyness and came near as the Buddha gave his first
sermon; so it is called Deer Park.
The same Ram drove us back after we visited some other shrines at
Saranath, in his usual fine form of informing the rest of the
drivers of their lack of road sense (all with humor) and seemingly
oblivious to any of his own lapses.
The weather is definitely warm here, possibly high 80s, maybe
into the 90s. Humidity is not so high, so that is a plus.
The center of town is a madhouse, but down by the river, where
one would think most people would congregate, it is quiet. Perhaps a
sign of the times, the market is full, the sacred spots are empty.
We wander along the ghats, feeling the presence of the river. We
are left more alone here, only the occasional boatman asks, “Do you
want to buy (rent) a boat?” They are usually fended off easily.
Saturday is Holi. It is a day to celebrate the end of winter. We
learned, in a not very nice way, that the day is filled with rough
play. Three years back we were in Haridwar on Holi. On our way to
the train station a water balloon filled with colors (that stain
clothes) hit Shamala in the head as we sped by in an auto rickshaw.
Taking our cue from that we stayed indoors until past 4:00 p.m. when
the stores opened. From our balcony we could see the results of an
“ambush” just down the street. A Japanese group of young people are
running down the street, being pelted with bags of colored water.
They are scared, one falls down, others help her up. They dive into
a store that is open (not many are); they continue running down the
street. It is meant to be fun, but for some it is definitely not.
Last night (when it is safe to go out) Carla and I head for the
Ganges, a 15 minute walk away to the Asi Ghat. It is sweet now to
see the boys and girls, and many adults, out wearing new, fancy
clothes¾also part of the holi tradition.
At sunset Carla and I did “buy” a boat for an hour and set off on
the river. How lovely to drift along with the current, the old
architecture improving with a little distance. Pilgrims, even at
this hour of dusk, bathing themselves, cleansing themselves of sins
past. The boatman works against the current going up river and we
arrive where we started. It is dark now; the bats are out in great
numbers thankfully eating many, many insects.
When we land the shore is alive with light and arati music and
three priests conducting an arati (waving of lights before a deity.)
The music is soothing; the three priests are lit with overhead
lights, many people are in attendance. The priests move in unison, a
drum is beaten and the recorded arati music plays (not too loud) on
loud speakers. It is lovely to see these priests move in practiced,
slow rhythm, a sacred dance, first with large brass containers of
incense that billows out, then large (perhaps over 2 foot tall)
arati lamps shaped conically like a Christmas tree. Dozens of flames
come from the many layers of the cone shaped lamp as they wave the
lamps first to the Ganges, then in each of the four directions. In
the black of night the full moon is on the horizon across the
Ganges, shining in reflection upon the flowing river. The view is
enchanting and is uplifting.
Ah India, you are every paradox wrapped into one package. From
the sacred to the profane, from extreme love and care to ruthless
behavior, all of life you hug to your bosom. You are made sacred by
your saints of antiquity and of the present, you struggle to find
harmony in the turmoil of your millions. May your shining Light (Kashi)
ever shine through the darkness; may the blessings of your realized
Masters ever show the way for stumbling humanity.
Our health has been overall good, until last night; Carla spent
the night up losing the contents of her stomach. She is feeling
exhausted but better this morning.
May the true Christ bless you on this most holy of anniversaries,
Easter. It is no ordinary holiday, as it celebrates the rising of
consciousness from the human and gaining ultimate victory in the
Divine. It marks the course for all mankind. May it guide your
course in pursuing the Divine Goal with all of your heart, mind and
Soul.
In all love and blessings,
David
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