Finding your spiritual self in India

I am woken by the sounds of morning prayers being sung on the water. The cold breeze through the open window carries the sacred notes into the tiny hotel room. It is this wholly unfamiliar sound that stirs me from my slumber. I have awoken in one of the holiest places in India, the magical and vibrant Varanasi.

The sun hasn’t risen as I make my way through the labyrinth of galis (narrow alleyways). They are too tight for cars but the heavy sleeping bodies of cows block the path as I make my way to the steep stairwells leading down to the water, known as ghats. Having encountered so many cows in the last few days I’ve grown accustomed to sharing the streets with these sacred Hindu animals and casually tiptoe around them.

I am drawn to a little shrine built into the wall of the laneway by the smell of incense. I recognise the figure as Brahman, the eternal and infinite source of all existence in Hinduism. Flowers, paint and candles surround the figure signifying just how many Hindus have worshipped here.

When I reach the still water’s edge I am greeted by a small man dressed in an orange hoodie. “Best boat, cheap price!” he says with a smile. For 100 rupees, I board his wooden rowboat eager to watch the sunrise from the flowing heart of the Hindu faith, the Ganges.

A young girl, who I assume to be the boatman’s daughter, holds my hand as I step aboard the vessel. Dressed in her school uniform with her hair neatly tied in braids, I wonder if she does this every morning before school. We take off in the early morning light; the slender arms of the boatman expertly manoeuvring the vessel.

Each of the 80 pyres that float on the river has its own history and purpose. As we row past the main burning pyre, Manikarnika, smoke fills the air. Since I’ve been in the city, I’ve watched many processions of the deceased, wrapped in colourful cloth, being carried by families down to the burning pyre for cremation. This public display of death is confronting but for Hindus, dying in Varanasi offers liberation from the cycle of birth and death.

It’s here in the Mother Ganga, I realise, that the rituals of life and death connect. Just metres from the burning pyre, Hindu pilgrims and locals alike wash away a lifetime of sins in the holy water. Devout Hindus are expected to go on yatra (pilgrimage) at least once a year and millions pass through Varanasi alone.

With water so polluted that in some parts it’s septic, I can only begin to understand the absolute holiness of the river and the rituals that take place in and around it.

The colours of the morning are astonishing. The people are dressed in bright reds, oranges, pinks and yellows and as the sun slowly rises, the sky is painted with the shades of a new day. The stronger the light becomes, the deeper I can see into the vibrant and animated city.

I am interrupted from my reverie when the little girl hands me a lotus flower candle to place in the water. It is only now I realise that the experience I thought was only mine is being shared with hundreds of other travellers in similar boats. Flower candles surround us and crowd the river, bringing light to the misty water.

It is at this point that we turn around to head back; the little girl has to get to school after all. I am once again amazed by the effortless grace of our boatman as he steers us back along the holy river.

It’s still early when I step off the boat and stretch my legs. The thought of a warm cup of tea grows in appeal and I begin walking to my favourite breakfast bakery. Every laneway looks similar; it’s easy to get lost. But getting lost is all part of the fun – that is how I found the bakery in the first place.

My belly continues to lead me when I hear a distant jingle of small bells ahead. I’m taken aback when a tiny puppy pokes its head around the corner to meet me; he appears to be a stray. With small bells tied around his foot and neck and black paint on his baby face, it strikes me how nothing and no one can escape holy power of Varanasi. From the first sounds you hear in the morning to the rituals that revolve around the Ganges – even to the street animals are part of this great spectacle of life and death.

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ganges india varanasi