BANARAS

BUOYED BY FAITH...

At times charming, at times alarming, Benares has always beckoned Kalyani Chawla with its promise of memorable experiences

ENARES has called me in a myriad of ways. The first time we met was literally in passing as I arrived there only to catch a flight. I had driven in from Allahabad, where Id spent two idyllic days at a friends sprawling mansion, watching movies and consuming appalling amounts of melt-in-the-mouth kebabs and the best biryani ever, straight from their gourmet Mughlai kitchen.
That time my drive to Benares saddened and angered me. It was so apparent even to the most casual observer that Uttar Pradesh, one of Indias richest states in terms of natural resources, has been criminally exploited by its politicians, who fill their coffers while depriving the common people of basic necessecities. The roads pathetic to say the least bear ample testimony to that.
I asked my driver after an hour of negotiating insane traffic, which mainly consisted of cows, rickshaws and trucks when we would finally hit the highway, and make faster progress. He turned around and looked at me for a split second as if I was an alien from another planet (or maybe just plain slow on the uptake!) and informed me that we were on the highway!! I fell silent after that.
When we finally reached Benares or Varanasi as it is called in official maps and documents I naturally asked to be taken to the Kashi temple, which is one of the oldest and holiest in India. The thought did pass through my head whether we would reach at all, given the bumper-to-bumper traffic, the deafening honking of cars, madly weaving cyclists and rickshaws and the mass of humanity on the road.
Miraculously, we reached the temple without being run over or run off the road... ! In my minds eye I saw myself walking serenely into Kashi Vishwanath temple, a proud structure, standing tall with the holy Ganga flowing serenely in front of it. Instead I was greeted by pandas (priests) as Ma . Well, at least they didnt call me Behenji , given that it was UP.... ! Before I knew it, my armed bodyguard (assigned to me by a politician friend to see me safely through the trip!) appointed me a guide/pundit/panda. I hopped skipped and jumped over cow dung as I went down a lane towards the entrance to the temple. I told my armed guard to wait there for my return as I thought it disturbing to have someone with a gun inside a temple. Alarmingly enough, at the entrance to this holiest of shrines, there were at least half a dozen armed policemen flanking a metal detector, an unnerving reminder of the times we live in. I was even more aghast to see them at tenstep intervals further down too. Why should sanctity be marred by this kind of almost brutal security Across the wall that divided this temple from the mosque that was built practically on it centuries ago, the same scenario ruined the purity of worship. My journey inside Kashi Vishwanath Mandir was a blur, barring the jostling and the pushing. I was pleasantly surprised at the number of Bengalis chattering around.... I emerged some Rs 5,000 lighter after all the numerous pujas I was asked to do. Commerce and divinity go hand in hand I guess! Then all I wanted to do was quickly visit the ghats beside the Ganga and sprinkle some holy water on my head before taking my flight.
The Ganga, sadly, did not exactly look the way it does in the dreamy visuals of the Incredible India campaigns. I got a rude shock not only due to the prevalence of dirt, squalor and pollution but the sight of the total disrespect of a place which is so sacred for every Hindu. To top it all, I missed my flight, as my driver and guard forgot to tell me that the airport was almost an hour away and I had to watch the plane take off in front my eyes.
I had no choice but to take the night train and was further mortified when the passengers boarded. It was sheer goonda land and the First Class bogies were dominated by what looked like politicians and their lackeys. My friends sister and brother in law, who were travelling with me were my saviours and I dozed off in sheer fatigue . Its perhaps a measure of Benares lure that in spite of it all, I still wanted to go back to Benares. It continued to fascinate me. It was as if I had unfinished business there.
The opportunity came when a friend who had work there asked me to come along to Benares. I needed no further enticement I jumped on a flight and off we went. This time round, we waited for early evening before we set off in a car. It had to be parked some distance away as the roads were blocked, so we then climbed into a rickshaw and ambled our way through the bylanes towards the temple again...
We watched fresh pakoras being fried at road side dhabas, people expertly avoiding being hit by our rickshaw, and bright georgette saris fluttering in the early evening breeze on mannequins which had motorized hands doing namastes. The leisurely ride to the temple cost us just Rs 10 and we soon found a panda, who guided us straight into the inner sanctum. There we performed the most incredible puja which has gone into the archives of Those Special Moments.
With that high, we walked to the ghat and sat in a boat to see the daily piece de resistance. We watched fascinated as the well-choreographed Ganga Aarti was performed by teenaged boys who had probably inherited generations of skills in performing rituals. With the temple silhouetted against a setting sun, with the chants of the timeless shlokas reverberating in the evening air, I felt goosebumps of emotion.
I prayed and floated my wishes in diyas on the river, watching as they disappeared, miraculously dodging the oars. After the crescendo of the conch shells and giant temple bells, and Vedic chants died down, we walked down the ghats, watching the rays of the sun disappear leaving but the glow and smoke of the fires of the burning pyres in the distance. That sight, and the thousands of floating diyas, made the basic Hindu belief of rebirth come alive for me, along with the dreams and prayers of millions down the millennia.
Sometime later, a friends wedding in Benares was like another bulawa from Him. I packed my daughter and myself off to watch a true Benarasi wedding. It fascinated me no end that though we all come from the same culture,each of us have distinct rituals which are revelations to even fellow believers from other regions.
In this case, my daughter and I avidly watched the rites performed by the bride and groom a day after the wedding. They floated on a two-tiered boat, worshipping at various significant but smaller temples. It was a sort of divine back-up for their future together, as they gained the blessings of their ancestors and avatars of major Hindu deities.
Benares will always be one of my most favourite destinations. The inexplicable desire to return and experience emotions which have been life altering is irresistable. I am waiting for my next call.