Varanasi: Laundry, rickshaw-wallahs and slaughterhouse paint jobs
In March I spent a few days re-visiting Varanasi, northern India. I had been a few years before, but wanted to spend a few days getting a better feel for the city.
I guess this location has been covered a million times before, but here’s a short account of my visit. I can't decide if I love or loathe Varanasi. It seems to have turned into quite a tourist circus, but it is endlessly fascinating and beautiful.<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
It began quite inauspiciously. My guidebook warned grimly of tourists being drugged and robbed on trains, and advised lone female travellers to never, ever board a taxi alone with more than one man. Well, that’s just stating the obvious… isn’t it?<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
Despite my common sense intentions, within minutes of arrival, I somehow managed to find myself in a motor rickshaw, with two men (one a driver, one a tout), speeding through the Varanasi night. Clutching my bags tightly, I watched the road intently for a safe point at which to jump off and ditch this seemingly unsavoury duo. So imagine my relief, when they suddenly deposited me at my designated hotel, alive and unscathed. The tout had jumped into my rickshaw only because he wanted to sell his services, to be my guide around the city. Not the most confidence-inspiring marketing strategy!<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
Once inside my hotel, what greeted me, was a dark, dusty room, sporting the most ill-advised paint job I have ever seen. I’m not sure what the decorator was thinking. Was he aiming for slaughterhouse chic? At any rate, it raised a laugh.
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p><o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
Fortunately the hotel looked a lot better by daylight, the following morning:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
Walking around the city for 4 days was not without its related hassles. A typical conversation went something like this:
- Madam, rickshaw?!
- No thank you
- Very cheap!
- No thank you (shaking my head to emphasise the point)
- Where are you going, madam?
- I said no thank you
- Madam, rickshaw?! (following me down the street, or blocking my path as I try to walk away)
- Please stop following me. I don't need a rickshaw.
- Madam, why you so angry?
:rolleyes :scratch
I explored the city’s famous ghats at different times of day; morning, noon and night. This neat laundry arrangement, drying in the midday sun, made me smile.
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
The more I walked, the more laundry I saw. All of it washed in the Ganges, of course.
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
There were laundry-wallahs bashing cloth against rocks, as they stood knee deep in the river. A few metres away there were bullocks bathing in the same water, or humans bathing, or cremation ashes floating on the river’s surface. Everything happening in close proximity.
I spent a long while watching the cremation process, but this is the only photo I took, from a distance. Depending on the time of day, which guide you are with, and which cremators are present, photography is usually discouraged (but bizarrely, postcards of the cremation ghats are widely available).
Prior to this I had seen a garlanded body being driven to cremation - on the roof of a Jeep. Once at the ghat, bearers carry the body to the river, while chanting. They ritually cleanse it in the river water, and then wait for it to dry out a while, before proceeding. The necessary amount of wood is exactly weighed out, the male family members gather, garlands are removed, and then the fire is lit, presumably after the body is doused with ghee (I didn't actually see this part). When cremation is complete, they stop stoking the embers, a priest tosses a water pot to stub out the remaining fire. After this, men start to throw the ashes into the river, and sift them with baskets, while standing waist deep in the river.
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
As well as freshly laundered clothes, the ghats were scattered with garments recently abandoned by people gone bathing:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
Some bathers, as viewed from the ghats behind them:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
I believe this is Lord Shiva, distinguishable from other deities by his trident, blue skin, and the crescent moon in his hair.
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
This is a Hindu temple located directly on the ghats:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
In typical traveller mode, striving to find meaning in the curious things I saw, I found myself wondering what is the significance of stripes in Hindu temples. I kept seeing a lot of them, including on the podiums where the saddhus sit, presiding over the cremation ghats:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
Maybe it’s one of those things that bears no significance at all, and they just happen to like the look of stripes! <o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
I was told that the direction of the stripes on a Hindu’s forehead is related to which Hindu deity they follow (e.g. followers of Shiva wear 3 horizontal stripes; followers of Vishnu wear vertical stripes). Or was it vice versa? :scratch<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
This ghat was gradually collapsing into the river:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
and this was extraordinarily bright. Who sells paint that colour?!
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
The next day I explored the river at sunrise. The scene was very different in the early morning mist. <o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
The morning dew caught my eye:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
I wondered how the local people must feel every morning, as they head down to the river with their soap and toothbrushes. It must be pretty cold bathing in that water, with wet clothing sticking to your body. While you bathe, there are boatloads of camera-clicking tourists floating past the front of you, and even more lens-wielding tourists lurking about behind you (i.e. me!).
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
Morning ablutions also include the services of barbers along the riverside:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
This boy was dishing out various powders for applying to the forehead. I liked his welded together jam tin arrangement. Now that’s true recycling.
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
Some more of those powders:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
The man on the left was handing them out to the man on the right, in what looked like quite a ritual:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
No Varanasi visitor can miss the saddhus:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
I saw one of these guys asking a local man for alms, but he was chased away by dogs. I got the feeling that some of the saddhus were felt to be a nuisance.<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
My visit coincided with the “Mahashivatri” festival, for which the local authorities had set up speaker stacks all over town. These walls of sound would soon be blasting out loud music to the many festival revellers. This reminded me of a music video.
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
Hindu idols, put in place for the festival:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
In the evenings there are rituals on the riverside, which many people come to watch.
On my final night in the city, I went to observe this. It was fun watching people launch candles into the river. My photo efforts were particularly rubbish in the fading light of the evening, but I liked the look of this happy accident:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
That concludes my visit.
Thanks for reading.
<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
I guess this location has been covered a million times before, but here’s a short account of my visit. I can't decide if I love or loathe Varanasi. It seems to have turned into quite a tourist circus, but it is endlessly fascinating and beautiful.<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
It began quite inauspiciously. My guidebook warned grimly of tourists being drugged and robbed on trains, and advised lone female travellers to never, ever board a taxi alone with more than one man. Well, that’s just stating the obvious… isn’t it?<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
Despite my common sense intentions, within minutes of arrival, I somehow managed to find myself in a motor rickshaw, with two men (one a driver, one a tout), speeding through the Varanasi night. Clutching my bags tightly, I watched the road intently for a safe point at which to jump off and ditch this seemingly unsavoury duo. So imagine my relief, when they suddenly deposited me at my designated hotel, alive and unscathed. The tout had jumped into my rickshaw only because he wanted to sell his services, to be my guide around the city. Not the most confidence-inspiring marketing strategy!<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
Once inside my hotel, what greeted me, was a dark, dusty room, sporting the most ill-advised paint job I have ever seen. I’m not sure what the decorator was thinking. Was he aiming for slaughterhouse chic? At any rate, it raised a laugh.
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p><o:p></o:p><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
Fortunately the hotel looked a lot better by daylight, the following morning:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
Walking around the city for 4 days was not without its related hassles. A typical conversation went something like this:
- Madam, rickshaw?!
- No thank you
- Very cheap!
- No thank you (shaking my head to emphasise the point)
- Where are you going, madam?
- I said no thank you
- Madam, rickshaw?! (following me down the street, or blocking my path as I try to walk away)
- Please stop following me. I don't need a rickshaw.
- Madam, why you so angry?
:rolleyes :scratch
I explored the city’s famous ghats at different times of day; morning, noon and night. This neat laundry arrangement, drying in the midday sun, made me smile.
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
The more I walked, the more laundry I saw. All of it washed in the Ganges, of course.
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>There were laundry-wallahs bashing cloth against rocks, as they stood knee deep in the river. A few metres away there were bullocks bathing in the same water, or humans bathing, or cremation ashes floating on the river’s surface. Everything happening in close proximity.
I spent a long while watching the cremation process, but this is the only photo I took, from a distance. Depending on the time of day, which guide you are with, and which cremators are present, photography is usually discouraged (but bizarrely, postcards of the cremation ghats are widely available).
Prior to this I had seen a garlanded body being driven to cremation - on the roof of a Jeep. Once at the ghat, bearers carry the body to the river, while chanting. They ritually cleanse it in the river water, and then wait for it to dry out a while, before proceeding. The necessary amount of wood is exactly weighed out, the male family members gather, garlands are removed, and then the fire is lit, presumably after the body is doused with ghee (I didn't actually see this part). When cremation is complete, they stop stoking the embers, a priest tosses a water pot to stub out the remaining fire. After this, men start to throw the ashes into the river, and sift them with baskets, while standing waist deep in the river.
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
As well as freshly laundered clothes, the ghats were scattered with garments recently abandoned by people gone bathing:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
Some bathers, as viewed from the ghats behind them:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p><o:p></o:p>
I believe this is Lord Shiva, distinguishable from other deities by his trident, blue skin, and the crescent moon in his hair.
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
This is a Hindu temple located directly on the ghats:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>In typical traveller mode, striving to find meaning in the curious things I saw, I found myself wondering what is the significance of stripes in Hindu temples. I kept seeing a lot of them, including on the podiums where the saddhus sit, presiding over the cremation ghats:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
Maybe it’s one of those things that bears no significance at all, and they just happen to like the look of stripes! <o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
I was told that the direction of the stripes on a Hindu’s forehead is related to which Hindu deity they follow (e.g. followers of Shiva wear 3 horizontal stripes; followers of Vishnu wear vertical stripes). Or was it vice versa? :scratch<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
This ghat was gradually collapsing into the river:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
and this was extraordinarily bright. Who sells paint that colour?!
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
The next day I explored the river at sunrise. The scene was very different in the early morning mist. <o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
The morning dew caught my eye:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
I wondered how the local people must feel every morning, as they head down to the river with their soap and toothbrushes. It must be pretty cold bathing in that water, with wet clothing sticking to your body. While you bathe, there are boatloads of camera-clicking tourists floating past the front of you, and even more lens-wielding tourists lurking about behind you (i.e. me!).
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p><o:p></o:p><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
Morning ablutions also include the services of barbers along the riverside:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
This boy was dishing out various powders for applying to the forehead. I liked his welded together jam tin arrangement. Now that’s true recycling.
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
Some more of those powders:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
The man on the left was handing them out to the man on the right, in what looked like quite a ritual:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
No Varanasi visitor can miss the saddhus:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p>I saw one of these guys asking a local man for alms, but he was chased away by dogs. I got the feeling that some of the saddhus were felt to be a nuisance.<o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
My visit coincided with the “Mahashivatri” festival, for which the local authorities had set up speaker stacks all over town. These walls of sound would soon be blasting out loud music to the many festival revellers. This reminded me of a music video.
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
Hindu idols, put in place for the festival:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
In the evenings there are rituals on the riverside, which many people come to watch.
On my final night in the city, I went to observe this. It was fun watching people launch candles into the river. My photo efforts were particularly rubbish in the fading light of the evening, but I liked the look of this happy accident:
<o:p></o:p>
<o:p></o:p><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
That concludes my visit.
Thanks for reading.
<o:p></o:p><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
<!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p>
0
Comments
The ghats look to be a very social spot for a variety of different things. The
"paint" job is more than likely sprayed on. It looks a bit like a texture coat
that would be painted over but instead was colored and left as the finish.
Interesting.
I also really enjoyed your storytelling. I hope you get to travel more so you can share more!
Photos that don't suck / 365 / Film & Lomography
Cuong
Facebook: Friend / Fan || Twitter: @shimamizu || Google Plus
Well I've just finished a 4-month sabbatical, most of which was spent travelling, so I have a whole bunch of photo files to sort through. It's amazing how quickly the gigabytes mount up!
http://asundi.smugmug.com