Benaras...

What can I say about Benaras. Having been to Rishikesh, Dharamshala and Pushkar and of course to Chandni Chowk there was much in Benaras that was a reflection of these places. And yet there is a character to Benaras that speaks to you in its own particular tongue.

The Benarasi is just different. I’m sure the lure of the city life has made inroads into the narrow by-lanes of Benaras too and why not, but there is sense of happy calm in the way of the people that you sense immediately. They blend seamlessly with their city and do not seem too anxious to get out of it, the way people in other small towns in today's India do. May be it is the promise of salvation that pervades its consciousness. What is it that has prevented shopkeepers from upgrading their shops? They may sell you lassi in mineral water (for the umpteen tummies from abroad that comes hunting for culture) but the shop will still be the old, well kept hole in the wall.

The local man still approaches his art and knowledge like a connoisseur and is ever ready to tell you reams of significance and meanings about every aspect of his life.

Perhaps it is the less ruptured inclusion of the Muslim who also lends this character to the city – and many still carry the old world traditions and rootedness in community living. 

Maybe it is just narrow lanes that prevent a certain invasion by expansive modernity… for architecture is also a site of praxis for social change. In these lanes curd is still jamaod (setting curd in Hinglish) in open paraants and served fresh as a snack, even as a cow ambles by. Breakfast can be a 7 rupees meal of kachoris, pulses and mint chutney.

This city has never had to go anywhere. Everything has come to it…

Rajahs from distant lands have built forts here, restored a temple destroyed by a Mughal king, donated gold and financed ashrams and boatmen. Politicians have financed the building of crematoriums and philosophers have passed by, learnt, delivered sermons and even settled here. It of course symbolizes the end of the body’s journey for the Hindu.

History is in the making here… every boatman, co-passenger, shopkeeper and trinket seller is ready to tell you a story about what beget what and why the present is the way it is. With so many gods rubbing shoulders, tradition must be re-emphasized and boundaries of identity have to be re-marked. A Hindu shopkeeper emphasizes to us the greater powers of the idol of Ganesha over that of the Buddha and nomenclatures add to the multitude of this religion with no borders.

Benaras has so many faces for me – Korean, Japanese, Thai and Sri Lankan Buddhist temples, Nepali Hindu temples, Hash smoking tourists, photographers or culture developers, old retired couples rolling by on a boat, claiming their late-found freedom from worldly roles and that little talked about Rajghat  Krishnamurti school where a sensitive education that goes beyond identity is attempted. As a continuous stream of bodies burn along the Manikarnika Ghat, there is both an acceptance and revulsion towards the starkness of death. The Ghat is the holiest of them all but the dome community who cremate the dead are traditionally considered low-status.

Meanwhile the locals seems to understand your need to explore this city… as you walk down the streets; there is no fear of getting lost, for everyone is eager to show you the way. And also to tell you , sometimes unsolicited, what to believe and where not to go.

Also refer to Shivangi's blog-piece on this same trip for a wholly different, more personal and visceral feel. This trip was a joint experience of Shivangi and I:  (http://shivangi-thestudentoflife.blogspot.com/2010/11/rangrasia-benaras.html)