I couldn't sleep - mind in hyperspace, so I walked the streets of one of the oldest cities in the world by the light of the full moon (power cut), taking care not to walk into sleeping cows, or step in their shit. Indian cities, like all cities I guess, are great at night. They never sleep, there's always someone selling chai, cooking something, and as the city regained power I was passing this internet place. The guy who works here also sleeps here, which is standard, and he'd already let another insomniac in, so I thought I'd bring you up to date.
From Siliguri to Patna - capital of Bihar, India's poorest state. I didn't hang around when my train arrived at 3.30am, and took a taxi straight down to Bodhgaya. The whole 4 hour journey was through a thick mist, gradually turning from black to grey to pink to orange to white as the sun rose, out of which ghostly figures swathed in cloth sporadically appeared from nowhere, often dangerously close. Some driving a 2-cow cart, some squatting outside their huts, and many walking miles and miles to work before dawn. It was like some medieval horror film, but I was too tired to be scared, and my driver was quite sensible.
Buddha spent most of his life in Bihar and attained enlightenment under a Bhodi tree in Bodhgaya. The original tree is gone, but another, grown from a cutting of the original, is there in its place. The town is the most important pilgrimage site in the world for Buddhists. Besides a sprinkling of westerners & hotel/shop owners/workers, half of the people are Buddhist pilgrims, and the other half are beggars. There are thousands of beggars - they come from all over the state for the pilgrimage season (alms giving being an important part of Buddhism), sitting in enormous lines, often in a terrible physical state, all with the same begging bowl... the scale of it is impossible to convey. And even with the most cynical view on their tactics, & with the knowledge that they do earn enough to survive, its heartbreaking. But when your every move is tracked by several destitute children, its simply not an option to step back and consider just how different my childhood was. Whilst its easy to give enough to a few people for them to eat for the day, which I do, its such a hopeless situation in the current climate that I know anything I do is really for my own benefit. Not that I think feeling guilty is the solution...
So yes, Bodhgaya. Part dusty, filthy, smelly 3rd world disaster, part serene oasis of Buddhist tranquility. Every country with a significant Buddhist population has built a temple/monastery in the town, in their country's architectural style. For example, here's the Thai temple:
But really the whole town is decoration for the main event: the Mahabodhi temple &, more specifically, the Bodhi tree in its grounds. Stepping into the temple complex, especially having come from the bedlum outside, is like entering a different universe. It's a real privilege to be with monks from all over the world, in the place that's central to their beliefs, that they're visiting for the first time after decades of devotion. Sitting under the tree with them, listening to them chanting or seeing them meditating or prostrating themselves every step of the way round the perimiter, like this guy under the tree...
(the bodhi tree is illuminated, just below the Mahabodi temple)
I left the centre of the Buddhist universe at 5am, and by 11am I was in the heart of the Hindu universe: Varanasi. The city is spread along the banks of the river Ganges, where a long series of ghats (steps) make the water's edge accessible throughout the year (after the monsoon, the river can rise by 15m or so, judging by the tide marks on some of the buildings).
The old city, behind the ghats, where I am now, is a chaotic maze of alleys, winding through bazaars (markets), past temples, mosques etc. Cows, dogs, goats wander around, lines of shopkeepers hawking identical wares vie for attention, children fly kites from every available vantage point, invincible young men barge through on motorbikes - slick quaffs, sunglasses glued to their face, horns blaring, swerving as they speed past cauldrons of boiling oil in which an old man cooks something or other while his grandchildren play almost directly beneath. Imminent danger is everywhere. Disasters waiting to happen. Similar things happen in all Indian cities, but this may just be the most Indian city I've been to!
The ghats are extremely photogenic: the Ganga is the centre of Varanasi life. People come to pray, to swim, to wash, sewers empty into it, dead animals are floated into it. I decided not to eat any fish here...
Although they're good for photos, I've been really saddened and disappointed by the ghats (having heard so much abot them). It really feels like Hinduism for tourists: "ceremonies" are performed every evening to ticket-paying audiences, literally every other person you walk past wants to sell you something, and doesn't give up easily. And the saddhus. These "holy men" on the ghats were aptly described by an over-excited gap year girl on her mobile in the hotel last night as "a bunch of naked dudes smoking weed all day..."; not to mention the naked western hippies with them, enjoying the crowd of gob-smacked Indian tourists. One is not impressed. If I was a Hindu, I'd be really upset that such a holy place has descended to this. Of course, the less desirable elements are more in-your-face, so I appreciate I'm generalising. There are genuine parts, but still...
If you've heard one thing about Varanasi, its probably involves the burning ghats. These are ghats where cremations take place on open pyres. I won't go into detail. The (outlawed) caste system is still in full swing: higher castes are burned higher up the ghat, while untouchables handle the bodies. The cremations are gruesome, but I've spent a lot of time watching, and feel a great deal of respect for the way Hindu's treat death so openly. I've found it very helpful...
I'm finding northern India very different from the south. Put crudely, the south is closer to being a holiday, whereas the north is more of a challenge. I've done a lot of thinking in Varanasi, and have met some really nice people. Everyone travelling in India is here for a reason, and more often than not it boils down to the same things: we come here to appreciate what we have, to understand what we don't, and to come to terms with what we've lost. That, I believe, is called "gaining perspective."
So, there you go. I'm wide awake, its morning, I'm going to hire a boat & watch sunrise on the Ganga. Its going to be a glorious day...
