The Road to the Holy City

Another early start today. We leave this place behind (thankfully) in a large green tour bus embellished with a tiger on the rear... (Mean Tony Green the Tiger) I claim the back of the bus and stretch out on the long seat. I have not slept and I am too tired to enjoy the scenery. Within 10-20 miles, I realize that it just will not work. Bumps beyond reason, curves that are so severe that several backpacks topple on top of me as I lie attempting to rest. We play silly games after I crawl to the front, full of nausea and just attempting to think of anything but how terrible I feel. Tape the name to your forehead, guess who I am...the usual. Matt can't be bothered and I can't blame him. We stop at a roadside dive for samosas and pakoras. This is our 'last' stop in the 'Green Machine'. We cannot take that bus over the 'border' (between what would be counties) and must find a new means for transport. That would be several jeeps or trucks with our baggage on a seperate rig that questionably will make the trip. Our fellow traveler John from Pennsylvania, (far more seasoned in this than most of us) offers to travel with the bags...bless him. Once again, a LONG, arduous, and bizarre day behind us, we arrive in the mecca of India...Varanasi. I feel far too tired and shuffled about to fully appreciate the journey. I have moments and remind myself, but it is hard doing so today.
The city is the usual....filth and the stench beyond explanation. Conditions that us Westerners have no concept of. We are escorted by our local guide to a very elaborate, top-notch hotel. Again, I feel the sting of knowing the poor and depraved are only on our doorstep as we dine in what would be to them, complete luxury. Such a contradiction. Must sleep...I am done for today.
Awakened at 0500 today. We pile into the waiting Tuk-Tuks and rush to the Ganges for sunrise. The smog is heavy, the stench prolific. We wind down narrow alleyways barely missing the pilgrims and beggars....and cows. We are told to get out and walk down the alley...avoiding the excrement and travelers. It seems like we are lost and have been led astray. It is early and many of us in the travel haze, from lack of sleep or sickness.
The walk takes us down one last narrow, covered alley....elderly women and men sleeping near it's walls. Then....into the open again.....it is the Ganges.... out in front of us out of nowhere. It comes out of the darkness of the alley and catches us offguard. It is barely light and hazy. The stairs are steep and I feel a bit stunned. It really is a sight to behold with the steep stairs leading to the river. The pilgrims and worshippers are gathered and beginning their rituals. The candles lit, the prayers have started. I hear piped in commentary from overhead....prayer perhaps....in Punjabi, Bengali or the language of choice.
We approach the river and are led to a boat and climb aboard. It is a long and canoe-like and all of us fit as best we can. The sun is rising and we must be on our way. It is, of course, aimed to tourists...as most of our fellow boats are...loaded with tourists and cameras. Caucasian, oriental, Asian...people from all over the world. We are simply paddled along the shorline. The buildings are beyond years, some even sinking into the riverbed. The air is heavy with smog and chatter from the shoreline. We are approached by a boat paddled by a single man selling religious relics of all kinds. I am not surprised. It would not be out of the ordinary...but it is...sublime. The shoreline...or base of the steps into the river are heaving with pilgrims. They are oblivious to us tourists with our cameras and stares. They are here to worship. They bathe, rinse, wash clothing, do laundry, drink.....in one of the filthiest rivers on the planet. This is their holiest of holy. They are in joy, in bliss, in peace. I am envious. No matter who watches, takes a photo, floats past....no matter. This is the Mother Ganga and she will heal all. To have such faith, such hope, such fortitude. I buy a candle from the young lad, on the boat with us, to float in the river. It sinks. Appropriate, I think....for I am an observer, not a devotee.
These people bathe, wash, drink, worship and upriver are the burning ghats that scrape ashes of the deceased into the river. We come along a cow carcass being enjoyed by a crow. These such things trouble us onlookers and those that travel long and hard to get here pay no mind. The circle of life. What a glorious and profound thing. I am moved and in awe of what I am seeing. Again, I am grateful.
It is time to leave and we do so like the good little tourists that we are. We spend time in the city with an overbearing tour guide at the silk factory. He is far too pushy for my liking.

Although after the Ganges, we attended a Hindi ceremony at the local University....it is beyond amazing. I am nearly moved to tears by the power and ceremony of it.
Alas...we again retire to the splendid hotel amongst our fellow travelers in the tranquility of it's borders. It has been an already eventful day by this time and it is good to rest in the sun a bit. Souvenir shopping in the motel shops with a fellow traveler Julia, and it's drinks in the courtyard. I think all day of how fortunate I am again... to be alive and well, experiencing life.