Travel / Chaos & Calm in Varanasi - The Holiest Place In Hinduism (Photography & Article by C. Lazarus)

As I wander around Varanasi heedless, along the banks of the River Ganges, past the Ghats where shrivelled shadows squat to watch the ashes of their loved ones catch the wind and join the haze of death drifting down the river to Patna. I can't help but be overwhelmed.I have written many times of the despair, the dirt and desperation of this haunted place, and in my agnostic negativity appeared bitter and lost.

(Above / Two Musilm men herd their cattle through the streets. In the top right you can see the derelict Mosque I showed a few weeks ago that is being renovated to it's formely glory by a solitary muslim man).

(An example of compassion. A Hindu man feeds an emancipated Kid, baby Goat. As another looks on with curiosity).

Despite the burden of death, Varanasi is full of life. The cities older neighborhoods and population seem to have a renewed respect for animals that is pivotel to Hinduism; a tradition that seems to have been lost in the rubble across modern India. Perhaps it never left them. In order to see clearly you need to apply hypothetical filters to your eyes and just ignore all the bullshit. Touts will follow you for miles, in an attempt to earn some commission, they are connected to every merchant in town and have infinite brothers and cousins with shops here and there touting your every need as a visitor. It is hard to ignore someone who is talking to you, but I assure you it is the only way to freedom in a place like Varanasi. Just keep moving in waves and forget how to trust.

(Something of high significance is in the air as hundreds of Hindus fill a small passageway out of the main tourist area and rush towards a small temple).

Depending on what you encounter, Varanasi can be either charming or dramatically fanatical. It is common to get caught up in an act of mouring, red-faced against a wall in a narrow street, I've never felt so ignorant as groups of men parade bodies of loved ones, wrapped in white and wailing. I couldn't help but stare, and I found myself realizing how depressingly morbid death is in our culture of wearing black, in silence we remember... Here, there is magnificent colour and explosive noise and song, a chance to release yourself and move on.

(Families have a ritual bath in the dirty water, seemingly unbestowed by the danger of infection).

I spoke before about why pilgrims travel to Varanasi. The ill and the old come here to die and their families accompany them. It seems ironic that a final dip in the Ganges is considered to cleanse the soul before death, it is more likely an assistance or an escalator to the otherside. The bacteria and parasites clutching to the drags of life that remain. It is sad to see babies and children being dipped into the dirty water, in a country like India, life is hard enough without the added effects of dysentery and this behaviour is only encouraged by Prime Minister Modi's Pro-Hindu Government. If I was to swallow hard and consider any positives that come from such extreme beliefs, it would have to be the Placebo effect of having faith in such a dangerous world or dog eat dog or die.

(A Macaque grooms another on the rooftops of the city.).

Tired and confused I retired to the rooftops. At the top of the Ganges Hotel, one of highest points in the city, the noise and chaos disperses and the silence is refreshing. The rooftops are littered with Macaque Monkeys who roam like gangs of teenagers alongs the terraces disturbing everything they pass. As night falls they find a spot out of our reach and begin a grooming process that can only be described as awe-inspiring. I love apes, I love how human they are, and how primordial they make me feel as a species.

(A nice example of the tall narrow buildings and pastel colours that dominiate the sunburnt city).

(A fisherman prepares his boat in the morning haze).

Solitude is not entirely lost here. Peace and tranquility are skills we can harness anywhere in the world. Buddhism, which has a deep history in Varanasi and the surrounding area teaches us that happiness and content are deep within the human spirit, it is a part of us that is infinitely ours and can't be taken away. I am not Buddhist but I am constantly drawn towards it the older I get.

(A devout Hindu attents to his duty of feeding the streets dogs in the evening).

I will finish this article off with the rest of the images I prepared. I recently got access to my hard drives and portfolio of work I've never published. I hope you all can enjoy India via my stories and photographs over the next few months as I work through my vault of Gigabytes.

(After a hard day tending to the tourists theworking class organise a huge game of Cricket by the river).

(The train to Patna is frequented by buskers like this young woman who sings traditional India folk songs and plays a hand drum).

(A final gesture to the holiest place in India, as Pilgrims bid farewell to the ashes they once knew, the train out of Varanasi seemed to unleash the sadness missing from the city. Families cried among themselves in the carriages whilst others wandered aimlessley up and down the carriages, hanging out the windows for a final glance and some fresh air).

Thanks for reading,
Cotton Lazarus.