I Have Smelt Death in Varanasi

Written: January 30, 2009

Preface: First of all, I apologize for the long delay since my last update. It's taken a bit of time to get settled back into normal life and I've been procrastinating. Perhaps, as in previous experience, I was also denying and delaying the finality of my trip.

The corpses wrapped in saffron silk burn brightly in the night sky. The sun has just set. There are eighteen cremations taking place at Manikarnika Ghat, also known as the Burning Ghat, and many more are being queued up in the middle awaiting their turn. The sky above Manikarnika is filled with smoke, it remains so day and night for Death waits for no one. I am within metres of the cremations and the odors of death, a combination of smoke; ash and sandalwood, fill my nostrils.

I notice that one of the cremations nearby is almost complete. After 3 hours of burning, the closest male relative tosses a clay pot of Ganga water into the embers over his shoulder. He and the rest of the attending family, all males, walk away and do not look back. Female relatives aren’t allowed to attend since some would throw themselves into the funeral pyre in grief and desperation. A friend of mine told me that fact made her visit more moving.

The cremations happen at all hours. With the departure of the previous family upon completion of the cremation, a new one arrives to take its place. A group of eight family members carry a body wrapped in saffron coloured cloth to the funeral pyre with re-stacked firewood. The quality and the amount of firewood depends on how wealthy was the deceased. In a way, wealth and social hierarchy still apply even in death. The family of the deceased transport the body; covered with roses, jasmine and marigolds; from all over India to Varanasi, which is considered the Holy City of the Hindus and most auspicious place to die. It is believed that bathing in the River Ganges will wash away one's sins.

More than 1 million believers make the pilgrimage to Varanasi each year. During my visit, I witnessed many funeral processions. The male relatives carry their recently loved one, wrapped in bright saffron coloured cloth, on their shoulder through the timeless and narrow windy streets to the shores of Mother Ganges. They repeatedly chant, "Rama Nama Satya Hai!", meaning "God’s name is truth". A custom and tradition that has been performed for centuries.

After the body arrives to the Ganges, it is dipped in the spiritual water 3 times before being cleansed by the seven natural elements and placed on the firewood. The closest family relative then leads the attendants through the whole process with the help of the brahmin. After certain rituals involving various herbs and spices, the funeral pyre which can be composed of up to 220kg of wood is set on fire to burn for nearly 3 hours. Once the time is up, ashes and bones are collected and spread into the Ganges. For the Hindus, Benares is a Holy City. People come to bathe in the spiritual water and await death as it is considered most holy place to cross. In fact, a cremation at Varanasi can cost a fortune. The act of cremating a body, unabashed displayed, is such a final act. I believe it is fitting in providing closure for the relatives of the recently deceased. In Varanasi, the finality of death is prominently displayed in comparison with other funerary rituals.

While the city brims with life as it has been for more than 3000 years, the smoke and the funeral processions reminds us of the ever presence of death. Rich or poor, young or old, you cannot run away and you cannot cheat death. Everyone returns to the Ganges one way or another.

I am fortunate to have met a cool group of people before arriving in Varanasi to explore the city together. The two French girls, Angeline and Brunilde, as well as Benjamin and I took both a sunrise and sunset boat ride. We also walked along the river and numerous ghats (which are steps leading down to a body of water used by locals to bathe, wash, perform religious/spiritual rituals) to experience the colourful life of Varanasi.

There are some distinct experiences and images from Varanasi I will always remember: pilgrims praying and bathing at the ghats, laundrymen beating sheets on the rocks, stiff legs and does burning in the dark night and that distinct odour from cremations, the smell of death.

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After 2.5 days in Varanasi avoiding barking dogs (hopefully without rabies), cow manure in narrow windy alleys and getting lost in one of the oldest continually inhabited city in history, it was time for all of us to move on. The girls flew to Delhi where they will have one last night of partying before flying back to Europe. Benjamin is off to Darjeeling and Kolkota (Calcutta) before continuing to Sri Lanka and the rest of his round the world trip. As for me, it's time to head into Nepal. I'm taking the bus to Sunauli where I'll cross the border and catch another bus for Pokhara.

Namaste India, Namaste Nepal.