Your father must be a gardner

November 3, 2010

Your father must be a gardner.

This is what a guy told me, while we were walking by the Gange river. Because I look like a flower. Not bad for a 12 years old, right?

Today marks 6 days since I came to Varanasi and I for the first time I was able to visit the town. I spent the last 5 days between bed and bathroom, with a terrible diarrhea and vomit that were starting to worry me because it wasn’t stopping and I wasn’t eating anything. On the forth day, with the little strength I had left (and the help of a mango juice that I vomited on the way back) I went to a drugstore that gave me some of their Indian pills (Marco told me that to kill Indian viruses you need Indian drugs) and a rehydration solution (that immediately gave me some relief). A policeman saw me vomiting the juice in the street a minute after the drugstore. I made him the sign of stomach ache, it’s the international sign for “I’ve got the travel disease that affects so many tourists in India”. The good aspect of all this is that my belly hasn’t been so flat in 16 hears.

Today for the first time I was hungry again. Nice feeling. A few days ago I thought I was evaporating in the air without anyone noticing. Actually there were some people in the guesthouse that asked me how I was and if they could help me in some way, but what could they have done?

So, today I went out. I went out in the morning, but it was too hot and I felt weak, so I came back to rest. I went out again at 3pm. I went to see the Ghats for which Varanasi is famous. They are quays along the Gange river (that here is called Ganga) where people go to bath and do their ablutions mainly in the morning and evening (something I also witnessed in Kolkata), but at some ghats they cremate the deads. It’s a bit weird. And interesting, of course.

There’s a long staircase that takes from the road to the river. Along the steps there’s a line of corpses that wait to be put above a small pile of wood, enought to burn the corpse. I thought they would make the body float on the water, but I haven’t seen this yet. They leave them there.

Later I went to see another Ghat, the Dasaswamedh, where from 6.30 to 7.30pm there’s an interesting ritual, with 7 guys that dance carrying an incence urn. Nice.

There are also many tea lights on the Gange in the background. The tea lights are put on a leaf covered in flowers, carried by the stream. Mine didn’t last too long. After 5 seconds that it was in the water, the rope of a boat landed on it and killed it. I hope this won’t have a bad influence on my karma. The girl that was with me told me not to worry, and put another tea light on a leaf without flowers and lit it up.”It’s still nice”, she told me. She gave me her tiny ring. So when I wear it I think of her, Sunita. It was very sweet of her, considering that she has a wound in her feet that doesn’t heal because she doesn’t have the money to go to the doctor.

Baths in the river are quite popular here. Well, both Gange and the river in Kolkata (the Hooghly) are holy rivers. I don’t know if all rivers are. People don’t bath just to wash, because in the street there are fountains with cleaner water. Well, less dirty. But for them it’s like bathing in holy water. For me it’s weird, because after a bath in these polluted waters you should also bath in bleach, but probably for them it’s very important. One evening while I was in Kolkata I tried to write in my diary what I was seeing.

17.05 hrs. Baaby Ghat. Yellow-brown waters. Garbage and crows. There’s the usual street people that bath, but also people well dressed that come closer to the water, splash a bit on their head and face. Sometimes they drink it. Then they leave. A couple is taking home a small jug full of water. They lather themselves. Then they enter into the muddy water. I wonder how they can drink this water and not die. They even brush their teeth. Not with a toothbrush, of course, just with their finger. A woman is entering the waters with a pure white dress. A guy in a corner is empting some bags full of trash, directly into the water. There’s incense on the steps. The lady in white went in to the head. She squeezed the scarf and rinsed her sandals with the brown water before coming out. And now? Will she take the bus all wet like she is? Or does she have a car to soak? Or will she walk in the street like this?

I’m in a small restaurant with two musicians playing Indian traditional instruments. Nice. I had Aloo Dam Kasmiri and Mushroom rice for dinner. Potatoes with sweet curry. I can’t finish it. I think it’s the first time in my life I can’t finish my dinner .But it’s better not to force my stomach too much yet.

Tomorrow I would like to wake up at 5am to take a boat on the river and look at people doing their morning ablutions. I’m gonna try. I’ve slept a lot in these last days, but I don’t think I’m ready to get up that early.