The BBC’s Chris Morris travels to the main source of the holy city of Varanasi in India to find out why the Ganges river is so polluted…. From BBC News. Full story

This site may contain information about: international flights. For a different topic see here. The blog is also related to: vegas trips.

The BBC’s Chris Morris travels to the main source of the holy city of Varanasi in India to find out why the Ganges river is so polluted…. From BBC News. Full story

This site may contain information about: urban city. For a different topic see least busy time to go to disney world. The blog is also related to: city names.

“Smile at each other, smile at your wife, smile at your husband, smile at your children, smile at each other — it doesn’t matter who it is — and that will help you to grow up in greater love for each other.”
(Mother Teresa of Calcutta, Albanian born Indian Missionary and Founder of the Order of the Missionaries of Charity. Nobel Prize for Peace in 1979. 1910-1997)

This is another portrait that I have shot last Sunday as I was walking near Lal ghat along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras).
Then I met several kids and young men bathing in the holy waters and listening to the lectures of a priest sitting under a big umbrella.
When they saw me each asked for a picture and of course I was happy to make a few portraits that I promised to print and to deliver at the same place today.

“Soul receives from soul that knowledge,
therefore not by book nor from tongue.
If knowledge of mysteries come after
emptiness of mind, that is illumination of heart.”
(A poem by alal ad-Din Muhammad Balkhi, known as Jelaluddin Rumi – 1207–1273)

Last Sunday I was walking near Lal ghat along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras) and I met several kids and young men who were bathing and listening to the lectures of a priest sitting under a big umbrella.
When they saw me each asked for a picture and of course I was happy to make a few portraits that I promised to print and to deliver at the same place tomorrow morning…

“All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.
This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I’ll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I’m like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?
Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul? 
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn’t come here of my own accord, and I can’t leave that way.
Whoever brought me here, will have to take me home.
This poetry. I never know what I’m going to say.
I don’t plan it.
When I’m outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.”
(“Whoever Brought Me Here” a poem by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Balkhi, known as Jelaluddin Rumi – 1207–1273)

This picture was shot a few days ago along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras).

This picture was shot a few days ago at Prayag ghat along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras).
I was watching this lady and I thought that whatever the sari can be it always gives a kind of radiance and a touch of dignity to women.
It is amazing that it is done by only a single straight length of cloth and yet it offers so much of variety provided by the fabrics, designs and colours.

“Je veux une vie en forme d’arête (I want a fish bone shaped life)
Sur une assiette bleue (Lying on a blue plate)
Je veux une vie en forme de chose (I want a thingamajig shaped life)
Au fond d’un machin tout seul (In the deep bottom of a contraption)
Je veux une vie en forme de sable dans des mains (A hands-filled-with-sand shaped life)
En forme de pain vert ou de cruche (In form of green loaf or jug)
En forme de savate molle (In form of slabby slipper)
En forme de faridondaine (In form of faridondaine)
De ramoneur ou de lilas (Of chimney sweep or lilac)
De terre pleine de cailloux (Of ground filled with stones)
De coiffeur sauvage ou d’édredon fou (Of wild hairdresser Or besotted eiderdown)
Je veux une vie en forme de toi (I want a life in form of you)
Et je l’ai, mais ça ne me suffit pas encore (And I’ve got it, but it is still not enough)
Je ne suis jamais content (I’m never happy.)”
(“Je veux une vie en forme d’arrête” by Boris Vian, French writer, poet and musician,1920–1959)

Last afternoon I was walking along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras) as I wanted to cross the city.
On the way I took a few pictures, I can’t really explain why this poem by Boris Vian came to my mind, I guess I made an analogy with all those lines and colors or maybe there was something which unconsciously connected me to the surrealistic process by which the poet reformed existing patterns…

“Is it your face
that adorns the garden?
Is it your fragrance
that intoxicates this garden?
Is it your spirit
that has made this brook
a river of wine?

Hundreds have looked for you
and died searching
in this garden
where you hide behind the scenes.

But this pain is not for those
who come as lovers.
You are easy to find here.
You are in the breeze
and in this river of wine.”

(Behind the Scenes, a Persian poem by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Balkhi, known as Jelaluddin Rumi – 1207–1273)

I took this picture of my friend Juliette Sushila last Sunday as we were walking on the ghats along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras).
It was one of the last summer days even though it was November.
That day she left for Paris and a kind of winter monsoon came.

Among several things my friend is running charity business with an hospital in the Indian state of Karnataka where she needs support.
www.donnonslavie.org/

August 13 cont.

Dasaswamedh Ghat, Varanasi

Our lively bicycle rickshaw ride came to an end at the Dasaswamedh Ghat, the grandest steps down to the Ganges; “Ganga” as it’s called in India. The ghat was occupied by sadhus (holy men) in various stages of undress, body paint and emaciation; little girls charming visitors into purchasing their little hand-formed butter candles adorned with bright orange marigolds; freshly-shaved pilgrims; sellers of Hindu religious trinkets; cows and tourists.  Lots and lots of tourists.  To paraphrase a quote from the October 2008 Departures Magazine, Varanasi swarms with tourists more than it does with actual pilgrims and citizens.

Our guide, Devesh, pointed out the water line demarcating the extent to which the Ganga normally swells during the monsoon.  In a normal season we should have been standing under water; businesses along the river are used to moving out while the Ganges moves in for a few weeks. But given that the Ganga records human fecal counts 3000 times the safe limit not to mention harbours countless other unsanitary nasties, I was quite happy to be on dry land.

Devesh explained to Josh, Aaron and me that people travel from all over India to Varanasi for yatra, a Ganges pilgrimage. These pilgrims believe that the river is the incarnation of the Goddes Ganga who flows down from its Himalayan source on the strands of Shiva’s hair. By bathing in the Ganga, or Ganges (the “eez” comes from a suffix given in Hindu as a sign of respect – Devesh hence forward became “Devesh-ji”), Hindus believe they are cleansed of Karma – the measurement of deeds of previous and present lives – and prepared for death.  This in turn leads to rebirth and hopefully a better life.

I asked Devesh-ji if he had bathed in the Ganga.  “Once,” he said, “and I got sick.” I didn’t probe the nature of his ailments, but I sensed he was unhappy by it and perhaps a bit envious of those who ingested and bathed in its waters with impunity… if you disregard the infinite parasites and other ills they no doubt suffer on a constant basis, Ganges or not.

There are many old people in Varanasi who carefully navigate the steep and treacherously slippery back alleyways barefoot. They believe that anyone who dies on the banks of the Ganga achieves moksha, deliverance from the cycle of reincarnation.  This explains why dead bodies receive one final dip before cremation.

I asked Devesh when Hinduism began.  He answers that no one really knows.

We each bought a butter candle from a girl who flirted persistently with Josh and Aaron and walked down to our boat. Our boatman’s oars peacefully swept through the obliging river as we glided slowly toward the Manikarnika cremation ghat. Devesh-ji asked us to lower our cameras, out of respect for the mourners.

The orange flames of the pyres stood out starkly from the concrete steps. The heat of the crematorium pressed against my face, but I was amazed that there was no noticeable smell. Stacks of wood towered over the throngs of workers, mourners, cows and dogs who moved deliberately among blackened ashes strewn with the tattered yellow and orange remains of discarded shrouds. On the steps bodies wrapped in saffron patiently waited for family members to carry them down to the river for one final immersion.  Devesh pointed out an older man with a shaved head who had a white scarf wrapped around his privates – the eldest son of the deceased. He explained that the two main crematoria run 24 hours a day, every day of the year, and that the caste who manages this operation has become quite wealthy selling wood, sandalwood dusts, shrouds and other cremation accoutrements. We sat in quiet contemplation as the sky turned indigo with dusk.

On our return to the main ghat we lit our marigold butter candles and released them into the Ganga. Aaron’s fell apart as soon as it hit the water, a sign that he should stick to Buddhism.

By now the Dasaswamedh Ghat was buzzing with people preparing for the daily aarti ritual where Hindu priests pay homage to the Ganga in an elaborately-choreographed ceremony [Mariellen Ward wrote an excellent article on the Varanasi experience.] Devesh ensconced us on stairs above a raised platform next to a cow pen. We were soon surrounded by a group of chattering young Japanese ladies who jockeyed with us for precious bum space. I drank in the scene of hundreds of people and many cows milling about, extended families wedging themselves into narrow seated groups, the loudspeakers broadcasting tabla drums and monotone singing.  The tension and emotion palpably mounted as boats filled with tourists and pilgrims crowded into each other at the base of the landing, forming a nautical chain 12 boats deep in places. At the centre of the crowd were seven priest stands – one for each day of the week – and while the organizer fretted with the priests’ diyas (large brass candlesticks), tourists peppered the night with camera flashes. The sense of festivity and anticipation increased as more people streamed into the crowd, Westerners in their sober tech-wear colours amidst the rainbow of Indian saris. The slight breeze did nothing to stem the sweat trickling down my brow.

The priests ascended their posts.  The air filled with the sounds of accordion, tabla and chanting. The priests were quite young and a couple of them, with their short hair, glasses and seeming uncertainty with the lyrics, looked like they were better suited for a university campus than leading a Hindu service. I was captivated by one priest with long hair and incredible bone structure and watched intently as he swung his diya with purpose, spelling “Om” with his arms and chanting the prayers majestically. I decided to get closer.

Josh and I descended in the crowd and sat amongst the pilgrims.  The older gentleman next to me was very friendly and encouraged us to take lots of photos.  I was surprised at the ceremony’s informality – it was perfectly acceptable to move around, chat with your neighbour, take photos – and how little the congregation was directly involved in the ritual. Suddenly, the crowd burst into a flury of hand flourishes. They clapped, namaste’ed and raised their arms.  For a fleeting moment it was pure electricity. The priests gathered at the central platform to sing the Broadway finale, then distributed blessed flowers to their devotees like celebrities dispensing autographs.

We ascended the steps – tourists, locals and pilgrims criss-crossing each others’ paths. I was surprised to discover that our bicycle rickshaw drivers had been waiting patiently for us.  We had a marvelous ride back to the Surya hotel.  The crowd was happy and energized. Because of a power outage, many of the shops were lit by candles, making the experience dream-like.  Figures glided in and out of the shadows in a cacophony of bells, horns, motors, voices and rattling metal. An auto rickshaw behind us honked passionately. I looked over my shoulder and gave him a “what can we do?” smile.  He shrugged and smiled: honking is in the Indian’s DNA. We passed the ox. Given that it was after 8 pm, he was now outside the shop.

When we arrive at the Surya hotel, Josh and I decide to give the rickshaw drivers 200 rupees instead of the negotiated 150.  We pay Josh and Aaron’s driver first, and just as we’re sorting out the second driver’s payment by some perplexing motive Aaron runs over and gives the first driver another 100. Josh and I stare dumbfounded and the driver solemnly holds the money to his head in an extreme gesture of danyavad. The other driver waited expectantly. So we gave him 300 rupees too.  More head pressing.  Felt good to be generous.

We bid Devesh goodnight, arranging a 4:45 am pick up. To our surprise the Surya at night looked like a wedding reception, with candlelit tables distributed across a perfectly-manicured lawn. Because all the tables were full we tried to persuade the waiter to let us site on the grass, picnic style, to which he disdainfully replied, “No. We treat our guests with respect.” We eventually crashed a table with two very blond English gals from Bath who extolled the virtues of Indian goat and mutton meat but who couldn’t wrap their heads around “cheese curry” (paneer).  Listening to carnivore culinary stories challenged Josh and Aaron’s commitment to their vegetarian diet, notwithstanding Aaron’s dreadful spring roll experience in Rajasthan. To drink I ordered a “sahlab”, described as “warm, thick milk with cinnamon, coconut and raisins”. The table made fun of my selection until they tried it – hot, creamy, sweet and textured (thanks to cashews), it was like pudding in a glass.

At midnight we closed down the joint. I went to bed and Josh and Aaron tried to walk back to their hotel. As Josh told me the next morning, they were stalked by a persistent bicycle rickshaw who wouldn’t go away.  They got lost and ended up on the main road. Who should find them but their bicycle rickshaw walla from earlier in the evening, pissed out of his mind.  Whether it was alcohol or drugs wasn’t clear, but he was speaking Hindi to them in dramatic, unbalanced sweeping arm gestures.  Yet again Aaron showed wacky judgement and hopped on the rickshaw before Josh could stop him.  A terrifying 50 rupee ride later (during which said walla careened blindly into oncoming traffic), they made it home.

Related articles by Zemanta

• Will Varanasi and Sarnath join the World Heritage list? (gadling.com)
• The world’s oldest cities (telegraph.co.uk)
• India plans £2bn cleanup of the Ganges (telegraph.co.uk)

I include this article written by freelancer Mariellen Ward because she does an excellent job of capturing nightfall in Varanasi through the eyes of a visitor.

Cremation fires burn day and night on the ghats in India’s holy city of Varanasi, powerful symbols of the cycle of death and life
Mariellen Ward.  Toronto Star.  Toronto, Ont.:Aug 29, 2009.  p. T.1

The veil between life and death seems very thin here, and aboat ride on the river can become a journey to the other side.

It was just before twilight when I stepped onto the creaky planking of a small wood boat. The old knotty boatman pushed us away from the muddy shore and rowed. With each pull of the oars we crept along the surface of India’s most sacred river, the Ganges, past the scythe-like curve of ghats (steps) that line the western shore, toward Dasaswamedh Ghat, the main ghat, and the aarti (ceremony). The aarti is performed each evening at dusk to honour Ganga Ma, the Ganges River. Behind the ghats, and a wall of soaring stone palaces and pavilions, pulses the holy city of Varanasi.

As the sky darkened, the moist air filled with swarms of mosquitoes, huge flying insects and the damp, putrid smell of the river.

The riverfront darkness was broken at Dasaswamedh Ghat as crowds gathered for the aarti, performed by Hindu priests in flowing robes brandishing huge burning diyas (brass candles).

Loud music and chanting accompanied the choreographed ritual. I watched from my boat, tethered to many other boats jostling their cargoes of Indian pilgrims and tourists.

When the aarti ended, we untethered and continued to glide slowly north, the hypnotic current of the Ganga leading us along as we crossed the weakly lit ghats. Out of the darkness, a white shape appeared, wedged in the black water. Instinctively, I knew what it was and I froze. I prayed the boatman would not notice, would not point. I wanted to observe the blunt presence of death, wrapped tightly in a white shroud and floating in the Ganga, in my own quiet contemplation.

On we went, the boatman didn’t notice, and I breathed again.

Varanasi is the city of Shiva, Hindu god of destruction, and his energy is intensely present. I thought about the figure in the river and felt shaken as some of my own fears were confronted and destroyed. I wondered if this figure was recently one of the many dhoti- or sari-wearing pilgrims I saw descending the ghats for ritual immersion in the sacred river that they consider Shiva’s divine essence.

Was he or she one of the unending stream of believers who have made pilgrimages to Varanasi for 3,000 years, to seek salvation, to be absolved of sin, to become a jivan mukta, one who is liberated while still alive, or to die and cross over?

Crossing is a spiritual practise here in one of India’s holiest tirthas (crossing places). The souls of faithful Hindus are believed to cross to the other side in Varanasi, the most visited pilgrimage destination in India.

To die and be cremated here helps to achieve moksha, a release from the continuous cycle of life-death-rebirth. Those who cannot afford a full cremation are released into the river as partially cremated corpses.

It takes a long time to cross the six kilometres of Varanasi ghats in a small boat.

Finally, we reached Manikarnika Ghat, the main cremation ghat, one of the oldest and most sacred ghats in Varanasi. It is said that Vishnu, the preserver, dug a well here at the time of creation and Shiva was also present. This ghat symbolizes the cycle of creation and destruction.

In most Indian cities, the cremation grounds are well-removed and hidden from view. But Varanasi is Mahashamshana, the great cremation ground, and death is ever present. At any time of the day or night, Manikarnika Ghat is busy. As we passed slowly we were on our way back and travelling against the current several cremation fires burned and I saw the bearded face of one man being consumed by flames.

Varanasi is a cauldron of Hindu beliefs made manifest. The careful avoidance of death often practised in the West is burned away and the knife-like demarcation between this world and the next dissolves in an instant.

It’s strong medicine and the effect can be shocking. And beguiling. Along with mourners, pilgrims, tourists, citizens and students, Varanasi seethes with wayward foreigners who wear layers of dishevelled clothes and far-away expressions on their sunburnt faces.

I spent a week in Varanasi and often felt bombarded with intense energy and surreal disorientation. But on my last night, I took a boat across the Ganga to the flat, wide sandbank on the other side to watch the sunset over the city and the ghats.

Some time after the sun disappeared behind the ancient buildings, the pink sky faded, leaving a pale glow that made the entire scene soft and indelibly beautiful.

I began to understand why this spot is considered so very sacred.

Lights appeared and shimmered gently on the crystal surface of the sacred river and soon after the aarti began way down the river at the main ghat. But I could hear the powerful chants and see the huge flames of the diyas from where I was seated on the sand, across from Assi Ghat. I felt in that moment in harmony with the rhythm of Varanasi. It is so peaceful on the sand bank, yet very few living souls cross over to this other side.

I lit two diyas that I had purchased on the ghats, spoke the prayer to the mother of India, Jai Ganga Mata, and set the candles afloat on the river in the twilight as the boatman rowed me back to shore.

Mariellen Ward is a Toronto-based freelance writer.

Related articles by Zemanta

• Will Varanasi and Sarnath join the World Heritage list? (gadling.com)

“I know you even under the skin”.
(Persius, Roman poet – Volterra, 34-62)

It was last Sunday at Lal ghat in Varanasi (Benaras), this young man took a bath in the holy waters of the Ganges and washed himself.
After that he treated several parts of his body with pressure, mostly his joints.
He used Ayurveda which is a natural health care system that incorporates massage.

“Rise up nimbly and go on your strange journey to the ocean of meanings.”
(Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Balkhi, known as Jelaluddin Rumi – Persian poet, jurist, theologian, and mystic, 1207–1273)

This was shot last Sunday at Prayag ghat along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras).
I believe that it was the last very hot day of the year here and many people came to river in order to find a way to feel fresh.
This woman was pouring the holy water on her, I took several pictures as the colours were coming so well.

“The drum of the realization of the promise is beating, 
we are sweeping the road to the sky. 
Your joy is here today, what remains for tomorrow? 
The armies of the day have chased the army of the night, 
Heaven and earth are filled with purity and light. 
Oh! joy for he who has escaped from this world of perfumes and color! 
For beyond these colors and these perfumes, these are other colors in the heart and the soul. 
Oh! joy for this soul and this heart who have escaped the earth of water and clay, 
Although this water and this clay contain the hearth of the philosophical stone.”
(“Mystic Odes” by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Balkhi, known as Jelaluddin Rumi – Persian poet, jurist, theologian, and mystic, 1207–1273)

This was shot near Gai Ghat along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras) where this man has been washing his laundry.
He was streching his clothes under the sun.
It was two days ago, I thought that it was uncommon to have such an heat in November.

“This is how I would die into the love I have for you:
As pieces of cloud dissolve in Sunlight.”
(Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Balkhi, known as Jelaluddin Rumi – Persian poet, jurist, theologian, and mystic, 1207–1273)

My friend Anand was rowing a boat on the Ganges, we left Varanasi (Benaras) and we were crossing the river on the way to Ramnagar.

“I searched for God among the Christians and on the Cross and therein I found Him not.
I went into the ancient temples of idolatry; no trace of Him was there.
I entered the mountain cave of Hira and then went as far as Qandhar but God I found not.
With set purpose I fared to the summit of Mount Caucasus and found there only ‘anqa’s habitation.
Then I directed my search to the Kaaba, the resort of old and young; God was not there even.
Turning to philosophy I inquired about him from ibn Sina but found Him not within his range.
I fared then to the scene of the Prophet’s experience of a great divine manifestation only a “two bow-lengths’ distance from him” but God was not there even in that exalted court.
Finally, I looked into my own heart and there I saw Him; He was nowhere else.”
(Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Balkhi, known as Jelaluddin Rumi – Persian poet, jurist, theologian, and mystic, 1207–1273)

This picture was shot along the holy waters of the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras) where so many things reflect the divine consciousness of human life.

“We should worship lord Shiva so that we are freed from our worldly attachments just like a fruit falls from a tree after ripening. 
Once we are successful in doing this we are liberated from this vicious cycles of life and death.”
(The Yajurveda यजुर्वेद, 1400 BCE)

Last morning as I was taking a few pictures along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras) and I saw this man stepping down at Jatar ghat.
He came nearby where I was standing and I made several of his portaits.
He seemed to have attained that state of freedom away from wordly attachments…

“Both light and shadow are the dance of Love.
Love has no cause, it is the astrolabe of God’s secrets.
Lover and loving are inseparable and timeless.
Although I may try to describe love,
when I experience it, I am speechless.
Although I may try to write about love, I am rendered helpless. 
My pen breaks, and the paper slips away at the ineffable place where lover loving and loved are one.
Every moment is made glorious by the light of Love.”
(Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Balkhi, known as Jelaluddin Rumi – Persian poet, jurist, theologian, and mystic, 1207–1273)

Once I came to Prayag ghat in Varanasi (Benaras) and I saw this old man painting Hindi words on a wall.
His hand was dancing, the letters were coming one by one.
He smiled at me, he knew the fancy art of caligraphy which had no secret to him, he was conducting an enchanting choregraphy and I thought that all this could only happen by the light of love…

This exhibition allows me to show for the first time in Varanasi some of the work that I have done there.

It is opened from 11 AM to 8 Pm daily till the 23rd of November 2009.

There was a Sant called Vitthobha in Maharashtra. He dint want to get married and wanted to be a bramachari all his life. He would always meditate upon god and read the holy book of Srimad Bhagavadam. He would get alms and have his food. He once came to Pandharpur and had the darshan of Lord Vitthal and was sleeping on the banks of river Chandrabhaga. That night Lord Pandurang came in his dream and said that a Brahman would bring to him a girl called Rukmani tomorrow and asked him to get married to her. He got up in the morning and started performing his daily ritual thinking why god had asked him to get married when he wanted to be a bramachari all his life. Pandurang had also told the same to the Brahman in his dream and had asked him to go in search of Vitthobha on the banks of Chandrabhaga the next morning. The Brahman came to Chandrabhaga and on seeing Vitthobha told him about his dream; Vitthobha told him that Pandharinath had also told him the same and agreed to get married to his daughter. He then came back to his village and started living as a family man. Vitthobha was longing for a child so that he could go back to sanyasa ashram leaving his wife with the children, but unfortunately they did not have a child for a long time. One day Vitthobha left home without telling his wife and went to Kasi and met Swami Ramanada. (Swami Ramananda is also the guru of Sant Kabirdas). He then formally took Sanyasa ashram from his guru Ramanda and stayed with him in Kasi. His wife Rukmani was searching for him and months passed by. Some one had told her that her husband would return if she goes around the Pipal tree (Arasa maram in Tamil). She started doing this religiously and years passed by but her husband had not returned.

Swami Ramanada had started on a yatra to Dakshin Bharath with his sishyas. Vitthobha refrained from joining his Guru in the yatra as he dint want to meet his family even accidentally when they pass by his village. Swami Ramananda reached Vitthobha’s village and happened to sit under the Pipal tree. Rukmani after completing her pradakshan prostrated Swami Ramananda as he was sitting there. As she was going around the Pipal tree Swami Ramanada thought that she was praying for a child and blessed her saying “Putravati Bhava”. On hearing this she burst into tears. Swami Ramanada on seeing this asked her why she was crying. She then told him that her husband had abandoned her a few years back. She also said that the blessings of Saints like him don’t go waste. She then said that some people have told her that her husband has become a Sanyasi. He then asked her if she knew where he was and who gave him sanyas. She then replied that people say that he took sanyas from Swami Ramanada in Kasi. Swami Ramanada then told her that it was he who had given him sanyasa diksha and also told her that if Lord Rama had made him bless her as “Putravathi Bhava” he would make it happen. He then sent a letter to Kasi for Vitthobha. On seeing his letter Vitthobha came to meet his Guru. Swami Ramanand then told him; be it Dharm or Adharm you will have to make my words come true. He also said that there is no bigger Dharm than to listen to ones Guru’s words. As it was his Guru’s wish Vitthobha agreed to it and came back to family life. After some time Lord Shiva, Lord Vishnu, Lord Brahma and Goddess Shakthi came to this world as their children. Their first son Nivritidev was the incarnation of Shiva, the second son Gyaneshwar was the incarnation of Vishnu and the third son Sopandev was the incarnation of Brahma, the fourth child Muktha Bai was the incarnation of Shakthi. They had taken this avatar to teach the world the importance of nama sankirtan and prove that it was the only relief for any human being in this Kaliyug. Even though Vittobha had come back to family life as per his Guru’s instructions he was having a feeling that he had committed a sin by coming back to Grihastashram from Sanyasashram. As he was a learned person he also knew that the only way to relive him of this sin was to jump in to the Ganges and reach the god. He told this to his wife and she too wanted to go with him as she felt that she was also a party to this sin that he had committed. They both left the kids praying to Lord Vitthal asking him to take care of them and left for Prayaga (the meeting point of Ganga, Yamuna and Saraswathi) and then to the Himalayas and got in to the Ganges to give up their life.

Nivritidev, Gyaneshwar, Sopandev and Muktha Bai were very young and everyone in the village neglected them and teased them. The children would eat if any one offered them food, otherwise they would just starve. They would not go and ask for alms from anyone. Nivriti was 6 years old, Gyaneshwar was 5, and Sopan was 4 years old now. As they were Brahmans they wanted get their Upananyanam (Sacred thread ceremony) done at the right age. They went to the Brahmans in the village and asked them to perform Upanayanam for them. The Brahmans laughed at them and said that as they were born to a Sanyasi they can’t call themselves as Brahmans and so they would not perform the Upanayanam for them. They then said that there is a place called Prathishtanapuram (Now called as Paithan) where there are a lot of learned people and asked them to approach them to check if there was anyway they could perform the ceremony. They also said that they would perform the same if they agree to it and give a letter to them stating the same. The children then came to Paithan and met the Brahmans there. Gyaneshwar then asked them to perform the ceremony for them. The Brahmans then asked them to which gothram do they belong to. Gyaneshwar replied to them saying that if the gothram was not known for someone the guru could use his gothram for performing the ceremony. They were surprised at this answer and thought how such a young kid knew so much about the sastras, but then said that they would not perform the ceremony without knowing if they really were Brahmans. Gyaneshwar then told them the different stages that a man goes through before becoming a Brahman and said that they have all crossed that stage, but still wanted to have the ceremony performed as it was customary. He also said that a Brahman is one who has seen the Brahmam and as they have seen the Brahmam they could perform the ceremony for them. The Brahmans then asked them if they had seen the Brahmam then why they need all these rituals. Gyaneshwar told them that as it is put in the Vedas that one should stick to their dharmas; we wanted to have the ceremony done. The Brahmans then asked them how they got Bhramagyanam. Gyaneshwar told them that god was every where and it was up to the individual to see him. He then showed a buffalo that was roaming on the street and said that god was inside the buffalo too. The Brahmans then got angry and asked if that was true will the buffalo too speak Vedanta like how he speaks. Gyaneshwar then touched the buffalo and said “Panduranga recite the Vedas” The buffalo immediately started reciting the Vedas. The Brahmans on seeing this were stunned and then said that a person like him who has attained jeevan mukthi does not require all these ceremonies. They then left Paithan and started on a yatra with the buffalo.

Sant Gyaneshwar

Gyaneshwar made a composition on Bhagavad Gita called Gyaneshwari. Till date it is the most popular book in Marathi on Bhagavad Gita. They then came back to Paithan and stayed there. There was a person called Changadev who was a Yogi, he was 1000 years old. He would walk on water, fly in the sky, get inside fire and come out without getting burnt. One day he got a new siddhi and started making dead people come alive. The whole village got to know about this and every one in Paithan and nearby villages started bringing everyone who was dead to Changadev and he made them come alive. However Changadev did not like Gyaneshwar and would ask the people in the village what was there with Gyaneshwar and why so many people went to meet him and listened to the abhangs and his discourses. The news reached Gyaneshwar but he dint bother about it. Muktha Bai his kid sister did not like this and she wanted to teach Changadev a lesson. Muktha then went to Chagadev’s ashram and there were a lot of people waiting outside for the Yogi with a dead body next to them. When they saw the 5 year old Muktha they asked her to go away fearing that she would be frightened seeing the dead bodies. Muktha asked them why they were waiting outside and they said that they were waiting for Changadev to come and wake the dead bodies. Hearing this, the little girl said that she could also wake them up. They then told her that she would get frightened on seeing them and asked her to leave. She then ran towards the dead body and said “Vitthala Vitthala” on it ears and then ran away. The dead body immediately woke up and started jumping and chanting “Vitthala Vitthala”. Hearing this noise Changadev came outside. He then enquired what happened and the people who were waiting for him told him what happened. He then asked them if they knew who that kid was and they said that it was Gyaneshwar’s kid sister. Changdev was shocked and surprised listening to this. He then wanted to meet Gyaneshwar and came to meet him sitting on a tiger. Seeing this, the villagers panicked and ran to tell this news to Gyaneshwar. Gyaneshwar was then fixing the compound wall in his house; he sat on the wall and asked the wall to move towards Changadev. The wall immediately started moving and now villagers were surprised. When Changadev saw this he was astonished. He immediately got down prostrated to Gyaneshwar and came to him. Gyaneshwar then told him that these siddhis are not useful to attain god and that they only take one in the wrong direction. Changadev immediately realised what he was saying and asked Gyaneshwar to show him the correct path. Gyaneshwar then asked Muktha to show him the right path. Muktha Bai then told him that listening to the stories of god, singing the praise of god is the only way to attain god. Changadev then prostrated both Muktha and Gyaneshwar and went to Pandharpur to live like true bhaktha. From that day he never used any of the siddhis that he had gained. He stayed in Pandhari along with Sant Namdev and spent the rest of his life singing bhajans and kirthans and listening to pravachans.

Gyaneshwar once came to Pandharpur and met Namdev. Namdev prostrated to Gyaneshwar and they hugged each other. Gyaneshwar then told Namdev that he had come to Pandharpur only to see him. He then told him that he wanted to go on a yatra around the country and wanted Nama to come with him. Nama told him that he was happy in Pandhari and that he could not leave Vitthal and go outside Pandharpur. Gyaneshwar then told Nama that he was going to visit all the places like Ayodhya, Vrindavan etc where god had lived in his earlier avatars and that he should come to see it with him. Nama then told him that Vitthal was still living and playing with his devotees in Pandharpur and said that he would be happy to be with him in Pandhari than go and visit a place where he lived earlier. Gyaneshwar then told him that he greatly desired to have Namdev’s company for the yatra. Namdev then asked him to ask Vitthal and also said that he would go with him if that was Vitthal wish. Gyaneshwar went to Vitthal, told him that he had come to him to ask for something. Vitthal asked him what he wanted and Gyaneshwar told him that he wanted to go on a yatra. Vitthal then told him that it was a good decision and told him that he would be liberating so many lives in this world by doing so. Gyaneshwar then asked Vitthal to send Namdev along with him for the yatra. Hearing this Vitthal was struck by grief and told him that he can’t be without Namdev. Gyanadev however said that he wanted to go with Nama and Vitthal then called Nama with tears and asked him to go with Gyaneshwar.

Gyaneshwar and Namdev started on a yatra with a few others. They would go to every village and perform namasankirtan. When they left the village a few people would join them in their yatra. The yatra that started with 10 people at Pandhari now became as big as 1000 people. They would perform street bhajans in each village and then move on the next village. Every one who saw them singing would get attracted and start singing and dancing with love for god. This way they reached Delhi and by now there were over a lakh yatris coming with Namdev and Gyaneshwar. Delhi was then ruled by a Mohamedian king, unmindful of this they continued going through the streets of Delhi, singing the praise of god with ecstasy. The king on seeing his subjects getting attracted towards them decided to prove that Hinduism was not true. He then sent a person with a cow to the place where they were performing bhajans. The Mohamedian came with the cow and told them that he is going to slaughter the cow and if the god whom they consider as the supreme cowherd is true, he should make the cow come alive. Namdev immediately replied to him that Vitthal would take care of the cow. The Mohamedian then told that he would slaughter the cow and asked him how long he would take to bring back life to the cow. Nama then told him that he would bring it alive in 3 days. On hearing this he slaughtered the cow and left the place with a big smile thinking that in 3 days time the people who have been his followers will understand that he is not a saint and no one would follow him any more. For 3 days Nama was just singing and crying to Lord Vitthal blaming himself as the reason for the cow’s death. Nama almost fainted on the 3^rd day as he refused to have food or water from the time the cow was slaughtered. Vitthal then came and consoled Nama and asked him to see the cow. Nama saw the cow getting up and asked Vitthal why he had made him wait for 3 days, when he could have come immediately. Vitthal then told him that it was Nama who promised the killer that he would make it come alive in 3 days and that he waited for 3 days only to make his words true. After this event a lot of people in Delhi became the followers of Gyaneshwar and Namdev and everyone started performing bhajans and kirthans at their home. They then went to many villages and cities up North and were returning back to Pandhari via Marwar. They got stuck in the desert and lost their way completely. There was no food or water and they could not find any village nearby. Nama fainted and fell down as he could not withstand the heat of the desert. Seeing this Gyaneshwar started crying and pleading Vitthal asking him to come for help. Seeing this Nama told him that whatever was the wish of Vitthal would happen and one can not do anything about it. Vitthal then sent his disc (Chakkaram) to their rescue and the disc went inside the ground and created a spring for them. All the bhakthas then took water from the spring to quench their thirst and continued their journey.

The yatris reached a place called Vaidhyanatham (now it is called Deogarh in Bihar) which is one of the 12 Jyothir Linga places. The day they arrived happened to be Shivarathri and so they went and prayed to Lord Shiva in this temple. They then sat in front of the main deity and started their kirthans. After singing a few songs about Lord Shiva they started singing about Vitthal as usual. Hearing this, the temple priest came to them and said that they should not be sitting in front of the main deity and singing as they would be performing abishekams and poojas for Lord Shiva. They also said that this was a Shiva temple and that they should not perform bhajans about Vishnu in this temple. Gyaneshwar then said that the Lord Shiva wanted them to sing here and that they would leave if he asks them to leave. The temple officials then intervened and showed them another place behind Lord Shiva to perform their bhajans. They all moved to the new place and started singing there.  After some time the temple priests locked the shrine and left after performing all the poojas. Gyaneshwar, Namdev and other bagavathas continued to perform their kirthans through the night and Lord Shiva turned to the side where they were sitting with his shrine. The next morning the priests came to open the temple and were astonished find that the shrine had turned. They then realised that it had happened because they asked the bhakthas and bagavathas to go and sit on the rear side of the temple. They understood that Lord Shiva had done this to show his love towards them. They then came running to see Gyaneshwar and Namdev, prostrated to them and apologised for having misbehaved with them the previous day. Gyaneshwar and Namdev then told them that they being the priest of Lord Shiva, they will not misbehave with any one and that it was Lord Shiva’s leela and continued with their journey.

Gyaneshwar and Namdev had almost reached Pandhari and Nama was now longing to have a darshan of Vitthal and started running towards Pandhari with tears in his eyes. It had been about a year since he went on a yatra with Gyaneshwar. Vitthal also came to the banks of Chandrabhaga to receive them and was happy that they have returned back. The entire village of Pandharpur was in a festive mood when they knew they were returning and came to receive them.

A few days later Vitthal told Nama that a Samaradhanam has to be performed for him as he has completed the yatra. He also said, as Gyaneshwar was a Yogi, it is not necessary for him but as Nama was a family man it has to be performed for him. Nama then told him that it was not required for him, but as Vitthal insisted Nama agreed to it. Vitthal wanted to get the Brahmans from Paithan to perform the same. The real reason behind performing this ritual was that Vitthal wanted the Brahmans of Paithan to realise the greatness of bhajans and kirthans. Vitthal then took the form of a rich man and came to Paithan along with Gyaneshwar, Nama and other bhakthas. Vitthal and the other bhakthas prostrated to the Brahmans. Vitthal then told them that he wanted to perform an udyapan in Pandharpur and wanted them to perform the same. Vitthal then asked them to come to Pandharpur the following Saturday to perform the same and went back to Pandharpur with his bhakthas. The Brahmans came as stated and performed the ceremony. Once the ceremony was completed they were served food. Rukmani, Radha, Sathyabama and others served food for the Brahmans. Vitthal then gave each Brahman their dakshana and asked them to take some rest. Vitthal then asked if he could now go and have food and the Brahmans asked him to go ahead. Vitthal called all his bhakthas to have lunch with him. Vitthal’s bhakthas are from all sects including the harijans. They all came and sat down for lunch. Nama was sitting next to Vitthal. Seeing the people from lower caste sitting next to Vitthal, the Brahmans thought if Vitthal was really a Brahman or if he fooled them saying he was one. The bhakthas were feeding Vitthal from their plate and Vitthal was feeding the bhakthas from his plate. Seeing this, the Brahmans got angry and started to leave. Vitthal and his bhakthas had finished their lunch by then and came towards them. The Brahmans then asked Vitthal if he dint know about the way a Brahman is to conduct himself and asked him why he was eating with people from the lower caste. Vitthal then told them that he was not aware of the same and asked them to perform a prayachitham (doing penance) for the same. The Brahmans then agreed to perform the same for Vitthal and they fixed the next Saturday for the same. They then gave the list of items to be procured and left. The next Saturday the Brahmans came and performed the ceremony religiously. Once the ceremony was over he requested the Brahmans to have lunch. He then asked them to take rest and went to have his lunch. This time too Vitthal had food with all his bhakthas who were from the lower caste. The Brahmans got angry again and asked Vitthal why he had done the same mistake again even after doing penance. Vitthal then told them that he did this again as he now knew he could do a penance for the same. He also said that he can have food only when he eats with them and that he can’t eat alone. They then told Vitthal that being a Brahman he should act like a Brahman. Vitthal then told them that he thinks the people with whom he had food as Brahmans and not them. The Brahmans asked him how he says that. Vitthal then told them that it is only because they don’t have the Gyan they look at these people as belonging to lower caste. He then said that a Brahman is one who sees Brahmam in every living being in this world. The Brahmans said that what he said was true but it is applicable only for people who have really realised the same in their life and not for everyone. They also asked him how he talked like he knew the Vedas, Upanishads etc and asked him to reveal who he really was. Vitthal then said the Brahmans that he will first show who his friends are and gave Gyan to the Brahmans. When the Brahmans saw the bhakthas they realised that Gyaneshwar was Vishnu, Nivriti was Shiva, Sopan was Bhrama and all other bhakthas took the form of other gods and goddess. The Brahmans then realised their mistake and prostrated to all the saints there and asked Vitthal for forgiveness. They then joined with them and started singing the kirthans and bhajans. After spending a few days with these saints they then went back to Paithan.

Rishikesh is often called as the birth place of Yoga. Rishikesh is one of the holiest places in the country located at the banks of Ganges. It is the first town that Ganges touches from its flow from Himalayas. Since ages sages meditate and attain nirvana from this holy town of Rishikesh. This is where the greatest secret of healthy living- Yoga originated.

Spend some peaceful time at the banks of Ganges, practice Yoga, and find spiritual enlightment as well as physical. Yoga can bring order to life and Rishikesh is the right place to find the inner peace. The famous Parmarth Niketan Ashram where The Beatles spend time with the Maharishi in 1968 is located in Rishikesh. Yoga makes a person more focused and perfect and a place as serine and peaceful like the banks of Ganges will refresh the soul and body.

There are several hotels and resorts in Rishikesh for tourists to stay and enjoy Rishikesh and if possible take a few lessons on Yoga. Jolly Grant in Dehradun is the nearest airport and Haridwar railway station is the nearest railway station.

August 13

Not surprisingly, the overnight train from Agra to Varanasi wasn’t the most relaxing experience.  My Spanish bunkmates roused around 5:30 am, a good thing because we arrived in Varanasi at 6:00 and I had no idea what time we were supposed to arrive.

I followed the Spaniards to the main arrivals hall which, as expected in India, was very busy.  I stood there waiting to be found.

Not long after, my London friends Josh and Aaron arrived, looking none the worse for wear after their evening in AC3, one class below my train car. Miraculously, my Varanasi driver found me amidst the hubbub. I asked if we could give my friends a ride to their hotel. Oh no, the answer, their hotel is very far away. I’m sure.

I called Devesh, the Varanasi guide recommended by the October 2008 Departures Magazine whom I had organized before I left Canada. Sure enough, the boys’ hotel was in fact very close to the Surya where I was staying – go figure. So I explained to my driver, Babu, and his greeter sidekick that I had my own guide and that Josh and Aaron would be joining me.  They respond that they want to take me to their boss. By this point in my trip I am prepared to put my foot down. Firm, but gentle, I insist they take the boys to their hotel before dropping me off.  Babu furrows his brows, then smiles in agreement.

When I arrive at my hotel my room isn’t ready, so I head to the restaurant for breakfast. Inexplicably, all the fruits in my fruit salad are canned except for the banana. I am delighted to discover my hotel warmly embraces the standard issue Indian paper napkins which feel like they’re coated in plastic and disintegrate immediately upon exposure to food.  The table runners are filthy, and the bamboo centerpiece has a drowned fly.

My grotty Varanasi hotel room

On that theme, I arrive to my grotty room and discover the bathroom has a few mosquitoes swirling around. No wonder – you could fit a raccoon through the gap under my balcony door. For the first (and as it turned out, only) time on my trip, I set up my mosquito net.  Then I chuckled at the pathetic toilet paper provision and laughed when my Indian phone plug didn’t fit in the outlet.

I waited for Devesh in the lobby.  I plugged my phone into the outlet and it rang – it was Devesh calling from two metres away to confirm I was me.  What followed was a large discussion with Babu who insisted that I go to the office to speak with his boss.  I gave Babu a straightforward choice: either he takes us with a tip that would recognize his extra effort, or we get a new driver.  Babu passed his cell phone to Devesh who then passed it to me, explaining that they didn’t believe I had booked Devesh from Toronto. Sighing, I spoke to the boss (who, unusually is a woman, or perhaps a man with a very high voice) and firmly explained my position.  Phone went back to Devesh then to Babu.

“Okay, all set,” Devesh says. That was easy.

Sarnath

We picked up Josh and Aaron and drove to Sarnath where the Buddha first began teaching and which consequently became a major religious centre after the 4th century C.E. Devesh revealed within two minutes why he came so highly recommended.  He was smart, funny, had a perfect command of English and was a bewitching storyteller.  By the time we arrived he was mid story and the three of us were captivated.

The "faux" Buddha

Pilgrims' gold rubbings

We visited a Buddhist temple which had the story of the Buddha painted by a Japanese painter and a sandstone Buddha made to look like gold.  Devesh explained that according to the Buddha, the source of all our confusion is greed: when you have nothing you lose all anxiety.  When you see the Buddha holding his fingers in a circle it represents “undoing the knot”, or releasing the confusion of life. I was so inspired I bought the book “What Would Buddh Do?” Ah, the Buddha – the MacGyver of the ancient world.

We strolled the grounds, admiring the massive bodhi tree and visiting the Ashoka temple ruins where pilgrims rubbed gold leaf on the ruins for good luck.  We strolled clockwise around the Dhamek Stupa (a “stupa” being a mound shaped like an upside down alms bowl which stores Buddhist relics), followed for a while by a persistent child asking for chocolate. We surrendered to the tutelage of Aaron who had spent two weeks in a Thai Buddhist monastery and taught us to solemnly repeat “Om mani padme hum”. Aaron then described how, after a week of 16-hour days of silence, he made a ninja run for the fence to get cigarettes.  After that we visited the Jain temple where we learned there are two kinds of Jains: those who wear white and those who wear nothing.  We saw neither. Jains do not believe in harming any living beings; they won’t even eat onions or garlic for fear of offending the bacteria that live on such beings. I was intrigued when Devesh said that most Jains were stingy businessmen. Hmmm.

Weaving the good ole' fashioned way

Yet again, the inevitable craft shop pilgrimage. In Varanasi they’re known for their silks with metallic thread. Our craft shop hosts claimed the process for weaving silk hadn’t changed in the last 200 years. Having visited the primitive conditions of the weaver, I can believe it. Boy, did we sure learn about making silk!  The silk thread comes from Bangalore. The spools of copper wire are cleaned in a large vat of sinister-looking blue chemical whose fragrance permeates the air and then polished in sawdust. It’s dyed into metallic colours (silver, gold) after which a machine mixes the silk thread with the coloured wire, making metallic silk thread.  The weaving is done piece work all over the city. The weaving machine uses punch cards that instruct the machine which threads to weave.  Thus the pattern is created.   Of course my immersive silk education led to a scarf purchase.

Josh, Aaron and I treated Devesh to lunch at my hotel which Devesh claimed was one of the best restaurants in Varanasi. I recalled my dubious breakfast in silence.  But I have to admit – the palak paneer, dal makhani, garlic nan, pineapple raita, babganoush and mango lassi were pretty awesome.

Heading to the ghat in Varanasi

Devesh then organized the two bike rickshaws to take us to the ghat for the evening Hindu ceremony by the Ganga, the Ganges.  I was so excited – going to evening puja in Varanasi is one of the most quintessential Indian rituals you can experience!  And the rickshaw ride there?  Spectacular, amazing, incredible, fabulous.  As the streets got increasingly busy, you could feel the happy energy surge. All kinds of people – locals, pilgrims, holy sadhus, tourists from all over the world – were flowing down the road to the ghats, the riverbank steps. Although technically no vehicular traffic is allowed, our rickshaw drivers stealthily bribed the police to let us pass – without us noticing.  Given the rickshaw congestion, this was clearly common practice and undoubtedly very lucrative for the gatekeepers.

“Quick, look over there!” Devesh said, pointing to the textile store to our right.

“What the…?” I started.  Inside the shop was a giant ox. According to Devesh, the ox has been visiting the store on a daily basis for years. He causes no problems, and even leaves the store to relieve himself before coming back in. This ox was famous enough to make the pages of the Toronto Star.

Jupiter Temple

We passed the Jupiter Temple, the only temple in the world dedicated to worshipping the planet Jupiter. Luckily it was Thursday, the only day of the week the temple is operational. And by golly, it was busy.

If this was the opening act, I couldn’t wait for the main show!

Courtesy of the Toronto Star:

At this clothing store, ox marks the spot; Varanasi shop owner welcomes the presence of blessed, aging animal
Rick Westhead.  Toronto Star.  Toronto, Ont.:Apr 23, 2009.  p. A.10

“Namaste, mind the ox.”

Not the usual greeting a visitor would expect walking into a store on one of the traffic-choked roads near this sacred city’s famous riverfront ghats.

Four years ago, Naveen Chhugani opened a clothing store called Lucknow Chikan House on a narrow, gritty street where he sells shirts and kurtas for 120 to 220 rupees ($3 to $5.50 Canadian). On his first day of business, a red ribbon still stretched across the entrance of the store, an ox wandered in and sprawled out on the cool floor.

It’s come back every day since.

“We call him Nandi Baba, named after Lord Shiva’s ram,” Chhugani said, folding clothes and wiping down an idol of Lord Shiva behind his counter. “I don’t know what we did to deserve this. We’re blessed. We open at 10 every morning, and he’s always there, standing outside, just waiting. It’s a unique thing in all of India.”

Lord Shiva is one of Hinduism’s most revered gods, both a lord of life and a destroyer of life. His bull, Nandi, was a constant companion.

On Sundays, when the store is closed, the ox usually sits on the store’s front steps. Chhugani said he feeds Nandi Baba sweets, barley and vegetables – tomatoes are his favourite. Somehow, the ox knows not to relieve himself inside.

Over the past few years, word of Nandi Baba’s favoured store has spread through Varanasi. Chhugani said tour guides, ferrying both Indian and foreign visitors alike to the turgid waters of the Ganges River for a boat ride, often stop off at the Chikan House first to take pictures of the placid and mangy-looking ox.

As is the case with cows, which typically roam free on streets even in cities like New Delhi, oxen are considered holy in India. But Nandi Baba doesn’t look especially consecrated. His horns look mouldy and his hide is mottled and worn. “I think he’s 14 or 15,” Chhugani said.

“I don’t even want to think about what happens after he dies. I guess we’ll take him down to the Ganges and put him in the river.” The Ganges is Hinduism’s holiest river. It’s considered an honour for Hindus to be cremated at one of the funeral ghats (steps) along the river, their ashes then deposited in the water.

Chhugani has made the ox a part of his business. His invoices, order slips and even his business cards now include photos of Nandi Baba.

Chhugani said no customers have ever been hurt by the ox, and no one has tried to shoo him from the store, especially after an incident with local police a year ago.

A few days before the prime minister was scheduled to arrive in Varanasi on a visit in March 2008, a police officer walking the streets tried to move along a cow that was standing next to a sweet shop, swatting it with his baton. The very next day, the same cow somehow made its way into the police station a block away, ransacking the place.

“It was quite a day,” said Vikram Yadav, a local journalist. “The police were helpless to do anything. It was such close quarters and they couldn’t do anything. They couldn’t shoot it, there would have been a riot. We have learned to live with animals here. It’s a way of life.”

Even in a shop selling saris and kurtas.

Fort Amber (Radżastan, Indie)

 *

*

*

Świtanie nad fortem Amber w Radżastanie (Indie)

*

*

*

Sadu z Orchii (Indie)

*

*

*

Ganges o wschodzie słońca (Varanasi, Indie)

*

*

*

Bajeczne Taj Majah (Indie)

**

*

*

Stragany jak z obrazka (Varanasi, Indie)

*

*

*

Mnich na świątynnym wzgórzu (Lop Buri, Tajlandia)

*

*

*

Człowiek, słoń i hipopotamy w Królewskim (jeszcze wówczas) Parku Narodowym Chitwan (Nepal)

*

*

*

Himalaje z lotu ptaka (Nepal)

*

*

*

Andy na horyzoncie widoczne z okolic kanionu Colca w Peru

*

*

*

Ruiny twierdzy obronnej Inków Sacsayhuaman (Cuzco, Peru)

*

*

*

Wyspa Ometepe na jeziorze Nicaragua - z wulcanem Conception (Nikaragua)

*

*

*

Osada nad fiordem Saguenay w prowincji Quebec (Kanada)

*

*

*

Świt w Tortuguero (Kostaryka)

*

*

*

Pastwiska Guanacaste (Kostaryka)

*

*

*

Środkowo-amerykańska dżungla - jeden z ostatnich lasów dziewiczych na świecie

*

*

*

Roche Perce - najsłynniejsza skała Kanady

*

*

*

Panorama Toskanii widziana z wieży ratusza w Sienie

*

*

*

Zachód słońca nad Florencją (Włochy)

*

*

*

Dramatyczne niebo nad Tubak (Arizona, USA)

*

*

*

Zmierzch nad pustynią Sonora (Organ Pipe Cactus NM, Arizona, USA)

*

*

*

Jachty o zachodzie słońca (Hat Rai Leh, Tajlandia)

*

*

*

Zachód słońca nad Monte Verde (Kostaryka)

*

*

*

“In this universe it is love that binds everything together. 
Love is the very foundation, beauty and fulfillment of life”.
(Amma (Mata Amritanandamayi Devi), Indian Hindu guru known as Amma “Mother” and the “hugging saint” – Born 1953)

This afternoon I received darshana from Amma (Mata Amritanandamayi Devi), “the hugging saint”. 
I was kneeled and I touched her feet then she opened her arms, grabbed me and hold me tight for a while as she was blessing me with prayers.
I believe that it is too early for me to explain what occured and I might need a few days to put words to this amazing experience however I can say that while she was hugging me I felt a kind of infinite energy, an unlimited love and happiness, just as what happens between a mother and her child.
I couldn’t take any picture at that time and this is why I am uploading this shot done along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras) showing a mother’s love.
After having a bath in the holy waters this lady was combing her son’s hair, he was happy.
Hugs, energy and Happiness to everyone…

“A day without laughter is a day wasted.”
(Charlie Chaplin quotes – British actor and director, 1889-1977)

Those two faces of happiness came to me by chance as I was making a few shots at Ahilyabai ghat along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras).
I really enjoy to capture happiness, I take it as a blessing, it gives strength and energy.
Thank you for all your kind comments.
Have a nice day and laugh…