Varanasi Trip

So after my night on the platform I hung around Delhi for a bit and then jumped on my train to Varanasi. It was a fairly uncomfortable ride with my stomach giving me a bit of trouble for the first time but luckily it was just cramps, nothing messier.

Standard train meal

It was the one train I was hoping would be delayed but arrived precisely on time, at half 4 the next morning. So I sat on a bench (I am now well acquainted with Indian benches) until a more respectable hour, then hired a Tuk-tuk and went to go and watch sunrise over the Ganges. The tourist boats were already out in force and the funeral cremations had clearly been going on all night. Varanasi is famous mainly for religious reasons, it's a centre for Buddhism as well as for Hindis, they revere the Ganges and use it as a final resting place for the hundreds of bodies that are cremated each dayon its banks.

 

Then the tuk-tuk tuk me 20 minutes down the road to Deepak's village. It still being only half 6 I waited a bit and then tried to call him. When, two hours later I still hadn't got hold of him I started to realise how much of a leap of faith I'd taken. I was in a small village/town outside a completely unknown city in which I now had zero contacts. Some annoyance and a little anxiety began to creep in. No doubt Mummy and Daddy would have helped me organise the trip properly to avoid things like this. Luckily Deepak finally called at 9 and arranged to meet at the station. So back I went, met him on the platform, jumped on his bike and we headed home.

Deepak's family's house was buzzing when I arrived from a combination of three things. Firstly there were approximately 30 people staying in a house the size of Oaklands, then there was the upcoming marriage of Pawan, Deepak's elder brother, and thirdly there was some foreigner who had just rocked up on their doorstep and was planning to stay.

I dropped my bags and then was introduced to the mass of people who invaded the house. I very quickly began to feel like those bizarre circus acts from the 1930s that the owners of would show off to all their friends. Luckily Deepak must've realised this and whisked me off to Sarnath, a collection of Buddhist monuments about 10km away. They were clearly ancient but as I'd left my guide book behind and Deepak struggled to impart any info I wasn't too clued up about them but I'll be back to Varanasi with Rory at some point and will write properly then.

Back at the house I was offered a sleep which involved lying on a bed while numerous friends and relatives came in and asked me my name, age and where I was from. Although I felt bad for not being more active and sociable I was dead tired and it did get fairly repetitive, especially when some of them forgot and came in for round two. Finally I managed to get a bit of kip, but then woke to a bizarre scene in the main room. All 30 inhabitants plus some, were in the room, mostly elderly women, but despite it being lunchtime only seven or eight people were eating, all men, while the others watched. It was slightly awkward having to squeeze through them all to get to the loo, it was occupied so I was offered the shower. Making a mental note to wear flip-flops in the shower and aiming very carefully I passed that trial, then headed back to the throng and was promptly became the spectacle when a huge plate (the plate was cleverly constructed from over-laid leaves) of dal chaval (dal and rice) was put in front of me. The food was delicious but I couldn't help feeling slightly self-conscious.

 

That whole paragraph may seem irrelevant but it fairly accurately illustrates how I lived for those few days and how uncomfortable I often felt despite their generosity and friendliness. It was just all a bit weird for a lot of the time.

After lunch Deepak taught me how to ride a bike (so Dad you better keep an eye on yours). Unfortunately it doesn't look as cool in the pictures as it felt at the time, I considered donning the Wayferers to improve the look but didn't have time.

 

Then through my own incompetence and Indian queueing (or lack thereof) I spent two hours failing to get a return train ticket at the station before heading home for supper and sleep. About an hour after jumping into bed half a dozen people burst into the room with henna and drew a beautiful pattern on my hand (I didn't realise then but this is normally reserved only for the bride).

I then fell asleep alone and woke with three Indian men next to me, as one does. While very graceful when awake, grace is not an adjective best suited to describing Indian men asleep, as scratching armpits, talking and snoring exceptionally loudly are all favoured activities.

After finally buying a train ticket the next morning I was picked up by Deepak and one of his gangster friend, who most of the village was terrified of, and we rode off to the Ganges. There he 'borrowed' a mates boat for 60 rupees (about a tenth of the normal price) and with the gangster rowing we headed down the river. It soon became clear why he was a gangster and not a boat operator, his rowing was fairly shoddy. So I gave it a go, much to the amusement of the passing boats and found that it wasn't actually that easy. And I can imagine that with a load of fat tourists its nearly impossible to manage.

Anyway we finally pulled in next to a funeral ghat and I watched, with huge interest as a body was roasted on a pyre of sandalwood. Luckily the body was covered so it wasn't too gory but an arm did slip out mid-burn. All that remained after five minutes were a pair of dis-embodied legs that hadn't yet been caught by the flames and after another five it was all finished, just a pile of ashes. As the process came to an end a nearby cow tried to mount a passing buffalo despite being half its size. As well as being highly amused I didn't miss the metaphor of the circle of life and re-incarnation, especially in such a strongly Buddhist area.

That afternoon the party started! I'll write a separate entry about the wedding as otherwise you'll all get RSI from staring at the screen so long and I'll crash the BCS internet server.

The next morning I woke feeling slightly ropey after a whiskey too many and a night on the floor of a room shared with my three Indian bed buddies. Not sure why the bed became unavailable but floor it was.

I then spent a couple of hours in the house and a couple more being introduced to friends. After lunch I amused the family, for once earning the attention, by throwing grapes up and catching them in my mouth. They loved it.

Then said my salaams and walked off to the train station, relieved to have some time to myself. Then I parked up in a waiting room, chatted to the police chief next to me, said hi to the murderer he'd just arrested and then jumped on my train to Delhi.

Having only been able to book an unreserved place on the train I had steeled myself for a night like a sardine. So when a railway official offered me and the Japanese guy squashed next to me 'a seat' I didn't immediately take him up, however he insisted and I'm very glad he did as I was led to the disabled carriage at no extra cost, where I had a bit of floor to sleep on and space to move my hand from bag to mouth. I felt slightly guilty as there were no disabled people in the carriage, clearly only those who'd paid a bit or had connections were classified as 'disabled'. So it was in relative comfort that I pulled into Delhi the next morning where I had a fantastic 24 hours with Frederique and the kids and then caught the train up to Shimla.

Reflecting on the end of an amazing trip, it was completely mental, always interesting, mostly enjoyable and all in all a cracking adventure. I'll upload a separate piece about the wedding tomorrow as well as more photos.

Max