The Circle of Life

Varanasi, a sacred Indian town known as the gateway to death due to its religious ties to the holy Gangas was surprisingly teeming with so much life and vitality.

This renowned city is the final resting place for many spiritual Hindus who opt to be cremated on the river banks, their ashes washed away by the flowing current. This is a place where life and death merge into one. Children bathe in the blessed waters in an endeavour of escaping the stifling summer heat. To their right a traditional cremation ceremony takes place as the river lapse at the feet of a dead man’s body.

 Every evening thousands of people venture outdoors to watch the sacred Aarti ceremony, which takes place when the setting sun melts behind the Gangas. This is a unique event, which honours the ancient river Goddess, Ganga. Hundreds of boats carrying foreign tourists pull into the banks of the river each evening, as flower offerings and candles are placed into the holy waters.

Unfortunately due to its international appeal, touts are always on a look out to rip off unsuspecting tourists. One local man, who befriended Deep during the Aarti ceremony said it was disappointing that such a sacred event could be marred by local people trying to make an extra buck. But after four months of travelling throughout India, Nepal and Tibet, we had begun to learn the tricks of the trade and were increasingly desensitised to the haggling and persistence of the touts.

 Due to the intense heat which hit you like a wall of fire when you walked outside, we were only able to explore this unique city in the early hours of the morning or late afternoon. Everything you need to see here features along the Ganga river banks. One day we spent a few hours exploring the labyrinth of hidden walkways as large brick monuments tower from above.

One thing I would like to mention is despite everything we have seen and experienced along our travels, the most heart breaking for me has been the street dogs, which despite their outward appearance, I have grown to love. On our second last day in Varanasi, I met a little puppy which I named Rosey. I saw her watching life pass her by from the upper steps of a temple near one of the Ganga ghats. I walked over to her and was upset to see her skinny skeletal frame hunched over in fear as I approached. Tears welled in my tears as I saw how exhausted she was, slowly dying of starvation. A holy man yelled from afar, that the dog was close to death and to just leave it alone.

For those that know me, I have a very soft spot for dogs and was quite angry by the man’s lack of compassion, though like Deep stated, with a country ravished by poverty, a single starving puppy was not a high priority. Even though the rice, chicken and water I gave her might not save her life, I hope that it gave her enough strength to see another day.

The entire experience of Varanasi and been emotionally moving, being so close to death and suffering. When I walked away from Rosey, tears falling down my cheeks, we came across a newly born calf walking with its mother through a candle lit path. A coincidence, I think not, just my reminder of the cycle of life.

By Kerryn Anker