Mother Ganges at Varanasi

I went to India nearly 20 years ago to travel across the northern states from Delhi to Varanasi and then further north to Kathmandu in Nepal. Varanasi is also called Benares but I prefer Varanasi, a city of many souls, of many temples and markets, of colour and noise and smells and traffic and worship and magic. Varanasi is home of the burning ghats at the side of the Ganges, a sacred river for millennia, a river that can cleanse the soul of a lifetime of sins if you bathe in her.

Varanasi was my last stop in India before flying up to Nepal and I chose to stay in a nice, posh hotel in the suburbs, away from the crowds so I could relax after my trek across India. I didn't take advantage of it much since I headed out into the amazing city straight away and met sadhus and pilgrims, beggars and saints. I went to a madly colourful and crowded Hindu temple and to a quiet Jain temple where I was blessed by the priest. I visited Sarnath, the deer park outside the city at which Lord Buddha first preached the Dhamma and the sanga was born. I saw the ruins of the first Buddhist monastery there and had a quiet moment.

I also did shopping at Varanasi. Not just in the markets but in real shops where you're sat down at a table and offered tea while the owners show you their wares. I wanted to get a Buddha image, a nice one, not mass produced or plastic, but carved and, in one small shop I found the one I wanted. A small image, maybe 8" tall and carved from sandalwood of Gautama Buddha sitting cross legged in the teaching position. The statue didn't come cheap and cost real money but I didn't mind, the intricacy of the carving deserved it. A Buddha image mere miles from where he preached his first sermon 3000 years ago.

A memory that sticks with me was getting up before dawn to meet my guide who took me by car to the ghats that lined the Ganges. I put my hands together to greet the various half naked sadhus sitting cross legged with matted hair and beards on the route to the river and then there she was, still dark in the pre-dawn morning. I was invited to make an offering of candles in what looked like little cake tins - light a candle and set it to float away on the river. So I did.

I then got into a small boat to be rowed out into the Ganges as the sun rose, orange and pink and turned the river the colour of the sun as we rowed out surrounded by little candles in cake tins and then further out. That's when my guide explained that one drop of Ganges water would clear away a lifetime of sin. I dipped the little finger of my left hand into the river to be purified - I have the purest little finger in London. I wasn't about to dip any more into the river at that point since half cremated bodies were regularly pushed into the river from the burning ghats. But it was a special moment, obviously so since I still remember it.

I have fond memories of Varansi, a city of millions of souls. I have fond memories of my guide who was a young Hindu woman and, rather than ignoring the beggars and pests that any tourist attracts, came prepared with small coins for them. As well as taking me on the Ganges and to Sarnath, as well as shopping, she took me to a Hindu temple to Shiva and took me to the lingum shrine to make an offering (important for any man). I wonder whatever she did next? Is she still a guide or did she become a teacher or. perhaps, did she move to London at some point in the last 20 years.

I would like to go back to Varanasi again one day. In the manic crowds of shouts and chatter, of selling and begging, there's a spiritual core and it's that that's at the heart of the ancient city. Varanasi was thriving before London was born, before Rome and before Athens and it's still there. Mother Ganges looks after it.