The quotation comes from the very first computer adventure game, called, simply, "Adventure". There was also a maze of twisty little passageways "all different," a description that fits the old town at Varanasi rather well. Both mazes were solved by dropping items acquired earlier in the game at intersections, so that one could develop points of reference and draw a map. Somehow, I don't think that the method would work very well in Varanasi -- the objects would likely disappear!
My first sight of the holy city of Varanasi was from the railway bridge over the Ganges. Half-hidden in haze, it spread round the outer curve of the shining river, a long ribbon of tall buildings. Up close, it was less impressive. The auto-rickshaw driver took me through the noisy, crowded, streets of a typical Indian town, and then carried my pack into the old city -- nothing larger than a motorbike -- or a cow -- could navigate there. I suspected at the time, and later confirmed, that he took me a long, roundabout route, past a different hotel that presumably pays commission -- a standard ploy, it seems.
My hotel, the Alka, was worth the walk (it took me only five minutes to get out). The hotel sits right on the riverbank, at Meer Ghat. My room, and balcony, looked directly onto the ghat and the river. I waited for dinner with a nearly full moon to my left, evening prayers at the main ghat in front of me, and the wide, flat, expanse of the river, bearing the floating flames of votive candles, before, beside and behind me. Magical. (Evening prayers last an hour. They start with chanting, and proceed to bell-ringing and a performance by five priests involving choreographed movements with Christmas-tree shaped candlesticks, flaming chalices and peacock feathers.)
Aside from the location, the hotel was somewhat spartan. The old city is for backpackers, upmarket tourists stay well away, near the railway station. I fell in love with Varanasi, but that was because I was on the river and in the old city -- just visiting the river by taxi or rickshaw would have been a totally different experience.
Step out of your hotel, and someone appears to guide you. Pause when walking through the old city, and someone appears to guide you. What they really want is to take you to a silk shop. A made-to-measure silk top with guide in tow was 450 rupees, elsewhere, without a guide, it was 350. Even the tourist office at the railway station was on the make -- it was selling, for 2/-, a map that was free from the Government of India Tourist Office in Kolkata. An inquiry about morning boat rides produced a phone number and a suggested price of 500/-. Walk down on the ghats, and any number of boatmen will seek you out -- and will settle for 50/- an hour, maybe less.
Alas, the Ganges was not a river I was happy getting close to. From a distance, it was beautiful -- truly a goddess. Keeping the river clean, however, seemed not to be a part of worshipping her. Anything and everything went into it, from partially burned corpses on down, and it was fringed by unlovely debris. I assumed that the people I saw bathing in it -- and drinking it -- had acquired immunity.
Besides shopping for silk and boat rides, Varanasi is the place to get your fortune told. Mine, it seemed, was not too bad, although a malign Saturn influence could lead to stomach problems, for which the fortune teller had just the talisman -- for a mere 1200/-. It seemed I had some interesting powers in a previous life (pity about this one), and should settle down around age 60. A Kali priest was visiting the fortune teller while I was there, and I acquired a black cord around my right wrist from him.
I had been tempted to stop off in Bodhgaya (where the Buddha achieved enlightenment) on my way to Varanasi, but it broke up a night train trip, and meant spending time in Bihar, currently a hotbed of banditry (the train carried an armed guard). Instead, I spent a few hours at Sarnath, near Varanasi, where the Buddha preached his first sermon. I am happy to be able to report that there were indeed deer in the Deer Park, and that Sarnath was a sleepy, peaceful, place, sacred to Jains as well as to Buddhists. Although the massive stupa marking the site of the first sermon was impressive, I preferred the modern temple built by the Mahabodhi Society -- it had a wonderful, serene feeling.
Unfortunately, the Golden Temple at Amritsar, the center of the Sikh religion, was not similarly peaceful, as chanted hymns are played continuously over loudspeakers. It took me a day and a night on the train to reach Amritsar from Varanasi, which I spent nursing a cold. Fortunately, Reiki seemed to clear it up, or at least reduce the symptoms. I had a four-berth 1AC compartment to myself for all but four hours -- when I shared it with yet-another-fat-man-in-white. This one was a Hindi-chauvinist. He spoke English only to establish that I spoke no Hindi, and to inform me that it was a beautiful language, and that it will become the new universal language. I refrained from pointing out that Chinese had a long head start, but I did mention that in Bengal I had needed Bangla, and in Orissa I had needed Orisay: Hindi would have been of little help in either.
At Amritsar I had almost completed a circle: Islamabad is just a few hundred kilometers distant. The only land crossing between India and Pakistan is 26 kilometers away -- the taxi touts at the train station wanted to take me there. (Perhaps this explains the large numbers of Sikh policemen I saw on the streets in Amritsar.) Aside from the Golden Temple Amritsar has little to recommend it, and I was glad to take the train out the night I arrived -- but in general I have decided that back-to-back night trains are a bad idea -- without someone to guard the luggage, and without a bath towel, cleaning up at the station is difficult -- and the showers aren't that clean to start with.
Despite the chanting, the Golden Temple was well worth visiting. First, everything was free -- you're not even expected to tip the bathroom attendants or the shoe minders. Free food was served to all comers between 11 a.m. and 3 p.m. each day -- a couple of pieces of veg., and as much dal and chapatti and water as you want. It was only after I had started eating (I made a suitable donation to the temple) that I realized that this might not be particularly prudent. I took a prophylactic Immodium, since I was traveling, and had no ill effects. I didn't drink the water.
Secondly, the grounds are clean -- immaculate marble surrounds the tank (sacred pool) that surrounds the temple itself. All Indian temples require you to remove your shoes, but few of them have clean floors. The Kalighat in Kolkata was by far the worst -- the shoe-free area was larger, and goats were being slaughtered (sorry, sacrificed) and the meat distributed to the poor. I carried my sandals out to the street and found a standpipe to wash my feet before putting them on -- to the amusement of the woman who had been using it. Not only was the marble at the Golden Temple clean, everyone was required to walk through a foot bath to get in.
Thirdly, the temple was indeed golden -- most of the outside was covered in gold. What wasn't gold was marble with "pietra dura" -- inlaid patterns. Inside, every inch was decorated. The center of attention was the original copy of the Guru Granth Sahib -- the Sikh scriptures -- kept in the temple during the day and returned to the Parliament building (much more serene) at night.
The buildings that edge the sacred pool (Amrit Sarovar) are inscribed with the names of donors and the amount of their donations. I was interested to see several from the UK, although only a couple from the US. Many are from Sikh regiments. So, the side trip to Amritsar was worth it, once. Next time (I hope there's a next time) I'll spend more time in Varanasi.
Sent from Jaipur, Rajasthan, India on Nov. 7, about Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh, and Amritsar, Punjab, India Oct. 27 - 31
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