14 December in Varanasi

This morning we were up at 5 am and onto rickshaws for the ride to the Ghats.  The rickshaws in Varansi have seats that slope downwards towards the front.  I first thought my bum would slide off but we were so tightly packed in such a narrow seat that my fears were unfounded.   The streets were very quiet at this early hour.  Just as we entered the market street, CP stopped at a chai sellers stall and bought us all a cup.  Some who had not tasted chai on the street before thought this was the best they had ever tasted but the jury is out.

Once at the Ghats we boarded the same boat for a row up and down the river again.  Morning sees the devout, washing bodies, praying and meditating in the Ganges with the loud chanting music always in the background.  The laundry men were at their posts washing clothes and we saw sheets drying on the muddy bank.

Morning light.

The aftermath.  I don't want to think about how polluted the water of the Ganges is.

Butcher in the Muslim quarter.

 
We lit another candle and made yet another wish (let's see if the power of the Ganges made its way through the ether to Australia).  All was strangely peaceful and calm despite the music and we were again absorbing and trying to understand this mystical place. India has a way of challenging and shocking the senses, with its harsh reality and traditions and the contradiction between its apparently opulent history and today's reality.  Then came the seagulls.  Swooping and darting; covering the dawn sky with movement. We discovered that one of the rowing "supermarket" boats was selling dried fish to feed the birds so CP bought some much to the fear of Chantelle and a few others who were more than a little worried about birds.  They soon lost interest in us once the food had run out so everyone relaxed again.

Make a wish, Millie!!

Mourners were at the cremation Ghats recovering the ashes of the deceased to be spread in the Ganges. Apparently more than 200 people are cremated each day on these Ghats.

We were merrily rowing along when our oarsmen suddenly pulled in near the bank and left us.  CP was puzzled, but decided we should disembark and walk along the Ghats and back to our rickshaws.  "Welcome to India".  There were "money saints" everywhere when we got back to the entrance Ghat.  Sadly we had to leave as we had more plans for the day but it was so engrossing I didn't want it to stop.

Back to the hotel for brekkie and then at 10 am we boarded tuk tuks for a journey to Sarnath to check out the place where Buddha gave his first sermon.  Back to the horn-toot opera.  

Tight fit.

Horn-toot opera.  We careered around cows, zigzagged in front of rickshaws, just missed bicycles, trucks and buses, all the while with the hand on the horn.  There seems to be a pecking order and rickshaws just might be on the top of the pecking order but then the traffic laws are completely mystifying like the rest of the country. 

I mentioned Ashoka in a previous post, as a revered person in Indian culture.  This is where his story can be told.  As an emperor of Hindu faith, he ruled almost all of the Indian sub-continent from ca 269 BCE to 232 BCE after a number of military conquests.  His empire stretched from the Hindu Kush to Bangladesh. to the Indian state of Assam in the east, and as far south as northern Kerala.  After contemplating a particularly brutal war which he waged out of the desire for conquest, and in which more than 100,000 deaths occurred, he supposedly embraced Buddhism.  He later dedicated himself to the propagation of Buddhism across Asia and established monuments marking several significant sites in the life of Gautama Buddha.  He apparently regarded Buddhism as  a doctrine that could engender political unity. He is often remembered in history as a philanthropic administrator.  Ashoka's story has been found etched into rocks in various places in India and Sri Lanka which explains how so much is known about him.

Sarnath was one of the sites at which Ashoka built a monument.  But that's not all.  In the monument was placed some of Buddha's ashes.  It seems that when he died, Buddha's ashes were divided into eight portions and buried under mounds in his home town and in seven other locations, each with the symbol of royalty, the umbrella, placed on the top.  Legend goes that Ashoka collected all the remains of Buddha and had Stupas built in the shape of an upturned bell.   Sarnath was one of these. 

We stopped at a Tibetan Temple and a starkly bare Chinese Temple on our way to Sarnath.  At the Tibetan Temple we found a shop with some Nepalese silver work and the American woman who had some young monks unpacking some items for sale told us that the Nepalese silversmiths have stopped producing so these prices will never be beaten.  Some silver was bought on the strength of this. 

Our guide at Sarnath was in a hurry because some of our group were anxious to get back to the silk shops.  Everytime the elderly man started in on a story, his boss would tell him to move on. It was quite funny.  I guess many were a bit saturated with all the history by this stage.  

 

Stupa at Sarnath.

Across the road from the Stupa is a Thanka workshop and sales venue.  The artists were Nepalese.  Some of our group bought quite expensive thankas and were very pleased with themselves.     

 The tuk tuks cost 400 rups divided among three, which included the wait time in Sarnath and also at the silk factory which we were taken to on the way back to the hotel.  This was the Rozi Silk factory situated in the Muslim quarter.  This is a thriving business based on non-mechanised production.   There is an outlet for their products in Seattle, US and one in Germany.   

Making the pattern cards for use on the loom.  The pattern was drawn on squared paper, and the craftsman used a punch to punch holes into cards following each line of the pattern.

Spooling silk.

Joining the cards together for the loom.

A hole had been dug in the ground so the weaver sat on the ground with pedals in reach of feet.  Notice the hanging in the middle back of the photo.  A sari length was being woven on this loom. 

It was Friday when we were visiting so no Muslims were working.  Also, there appeared to be a power blackout which made it almost impossible to see inside the very small rooms.  All of the above processes were carried out in well-scattered houses around the neighbourhood.  As promised we were then taken to the shop where we were offered a cup of chai and then down to the business of showing the wares.  First, out came the saris and we had the demo of dressing up in a sari and the suggestions of what could be made from one.  Next came the bedspread sets including two pillow cases and four cushion covers in pure silk.  These were loved by all.  Then the pashminas and scarves.  It was quite a show. 

Sari length.

Bedspread.

Cuteness!!  Tied at front door.  No-one walks very far for their milk.

All told we were away for more than five hours but got back in time to go to dinner at the Surya Hotel.  Now, this was luxury.  There was a huge party being held in the courtyard which we had to walk through - hobnobbing with the very rich. The modern hotel was built in the front of the colonial hotel.  We went to the colonial hotel for our dinner.  It was lovingly restored and there were repaired photos on the wall of the maharajahs.  The food was good too.  Steve and I shared a Mutton Siikh Kebab and Vegetable Biryani followed by a rice pud.