Birth and death in Varanasi

Darina Allen visits the ancient Indian city of Varanasi, where pilgrims come to bathe and say goodbye to their dead Varanasi is to Hindus what Mecca is to Muslims and Rome is to Christians. Every day, over 20,000 pilgrims come from all over India and many parts of the world to bathe in the sacred waters of the Ganges to wash away their sins.
They come by train, by plane, by car, by bicycle, by rickshaw or by cart. Some are pulled by camel, others pulled by bullocks. Some of the most devout walk thousands of miles to reach Varanasi, or Benares as it was known. It is believed to be the oldest contiguous city in India and has always been an “auspicious” place to die. Those who actually expire there gain “moksha” which liberates them from the cycle of birth and death.
The main attractions from the visitor's perspective are 70 ghats (embankments) that line the western bank of the holy river, where devout Hindus congregate along the stone steps at the water's edge. To the Hindus the Ganges is a goddess and a gentle mother who provides food and life.
One can wander freely along the whole length of the ghats. The best time to visit the ghats is at dawn when the river is bathed in mellow golden light and pilgrims perform “puja” to the rising sun, or at sunset when the Aarti ceremony takes place at the main Dasaswamedh Ghat.
We mingled with the thousands of pilgrims and holy men who come to take a ritual bath and offer blessings.   People of all castes and customs, rich and poor, bathe and pray together.  
Our guide found us a boatman who took us out in a heavy timber canoe. We bought some little leaf baskets full of rose and chrysanthemum petals with tiny night lights in the centre from a beautiful girl in a colourful woven silk sari. We laid them out along the ledge of the boat and paddled gently down towards one of the burning ghats where Hindus cremate their bodies in public. Sounds like the most ghoulish voyeurism, but death is not hidden in India – it is part of life. Hindus prefer to cremate their dead at night – darkness is the symbol of death. The bodies are carried through the narrow alleyways of the old city, swathed in cloth of different colours depending on their age.  Bodies are handled by a lower caste known as “doms”. Traditionally, they are dipped in the holy river five times before cremation. The body is left on the bank to dry while the oldest son and other male family members go to buy the firewood for the funeral pyre. Huge piles of firewood are neatly stacked along the top of the ghat. Each type of wood has its price: nime, mango, sandalwood (the most desirable and expensive). Every log is carefully weighed on giant scales – there is an art to gauging just how much wood is needed to cremate the corpse. The funeral fire is lit by the doms from the sacred fire started by the god Shiva many centuries ago, and kept burning by the doms ever since.
No women are allowed at the burning ghat. The eldest son and other mourners stand and watch until the body is reduced to ashes. The remains are then collected and respectfully scattered on the sacred river, a most auspicious and moving occasion.
Having quietly observed and joined in the prayers, we lit our candles, made a wish for our dear ones, and floated each one gently down the Ganges. They looked so beautiful flickering in the night light. By now the priests and pilgrims were chanting, ringing bells, reciting mantras, lighting candles and incense, sprinkling flower petals and sweets into the river as offerings to Mother Ganges. The Aarti ceremony lasts for almost an hour.
We left just before the final crescendo, jumping on a rickshaw to avoid the overwhelming crowds. Mind you, a ride on a rickshaw in Varanasi is not for the faint-hearted either.
We were back again at dawn to witness the city waking up. Thousands of people were down on the ghats, bathing, washing their hair, shaving, doing yoga, having massages, selling flowers, playing cricket. Others vigorously washed their clothes on washing stones, laying them out to dry on the stone steps. Pilgrims improve their karma by giving to beggars, and get free food from the ashrams built all along the ghats, some of which were originally Maharajah palaces.
We watched the sun rise over the sandy bank on the Eastern side of the Ganges and sprinkled more flower petals into the river before making our way to Sarnath where Buddha preached his first sermon in a deer park – altogether a deeply moving experience.