Rain because, unusually, today (Sunday) was wet. Tears because for a few minutes this evening I cried with sheer exhilaration. A spiritual conversion, no, but an empathy with the spirit of Varanasi, yes.
The day began badly. The cold which I’ve been ignoring won the body over mind battle and I awoke in the early hours feeling lousy and unable to breath. My asthmatic lungs had succumbed to an infection, too much smoke\ dust for too many weeks. Fortunately once I’d located the antibiotics buried in my bag and got more sleep it wasn't as bad as first feared. And my struggling lungs got a pleasant surprise at breakfast when I emerged onto the roof terrace to find an English climate! Overnight wind and rain showers moved in, improving the air quality immensely.
Relishing the cool breeze and the resulting lack of crowds I decided to take advantage of having to take antibiotics anyway and venture on a boat over the murky Ganges. Avoiding the tourist boat rides I hopped onto one of the many rickety open wooden ferries criss crossing the banks.
The far side is deemed to be cleaner (!) So many families travel over to swim. The sandy open banks in the current "dry" season give this the look and feel of the British seaside. I had to paddle ashore but that was enough contact for me. The river is an open sewer. There are no fish, small boats follow our larger one selling snacks to feed the birds which flock overhead, seagulls of a sort who have obviously developed a taste for crisps.
Whilst my fellow passengers stripped off I wandered the sands watching them emerge scrubbed clean, donning new clothes (which explained why everyone had so much baggage!) Each ferry goes back 30 mins later with sane contingent, all now clad in their Sunday best, bar me. My unclean/ unbathed status caused much bemusement.
It was a relief to walk the river without the blistering heat, watching children play cricket and admiring the kites soaring into the air. As dusk fell the evening ceremony began under a torrential downpour which drove all except a few of us hardy souls away. So I sat in the rain feet away from the platforms watching the complex spectacle of blessings and as the incense and blossoms showered over me and the chanting rose to a crescendo I found tears falling. For a moment the holiest place in India reached into my soul.
The day began badly. The cold which I’ve been ignoring won the body over mind battle and I awoke in the early hours feeling lousy and unable to breath. My asthmatic lungs had succumbed to an infection, too much smoke\ dust for too many weeks. Fortunately once I’d located the antibiotics buried in my bag and got more sleep it wasn't as bad as first feared. And my struggling lungs got a pleasant surprise at breakfast when I emerged onto the roof terrace to find an English climate! Overnight wind and rain showers moved in, improving the air quality immensely.
Relishing the cool breeze and the resulting lack of crowds I decided to take advantage of having to take antibiotics anyway and venture on a boat over the murky Ganges. Avoiding the tourist boat rides I hopped onto one of the many rickety open wooden ferries criss crossing the banks.
The far side is deemed to be cleaner (!) So many families travel over to swim. The sandy open banks in the current "dry" season give this the look and feel of the British seaside. I had to paddle ashore but that was enough contact for me. The river is an open sewer. There are no fish, small boats follow our larger one selling snacks to feed the birds which flock overhead, seagulls of a sort who have obviously developed a taste for crisps.
Whilst my fellow passengers stripped off I wandered the sands watching them emerge scrubbed clean, donning new clothes (which explained why everyone had so much baggage!) Each ferry goes back 30 mins later with sane contingent, all now clad in their Sunday best, bar me. My unclean/ unbathed status caused much bemusement.
It was a relief to walk the river without the blistering heat, watching children play cricket and admiring the kites soaring into the air. As dusk fell the evening ceremony began under a torrential downpour which drove all except a few of us hardy souls away. So I sat in the rain feet away from the platforms watching the complex spectacle of blessings and as the incense and blossoms showered over me and the chanting rose to a crescendo I found tears falling. For a moment the holiest place in India reached into my soul.
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