Varanasi, India

Arrival from an overnight train from Rishikesh into a super-busy Varanasi station was a shock, to say the least. Incredibly sleepy and un-bothered to haggle I jumped in the first tuk-tuk and requested to be taken to Shanti hostel, the first cheap place recommended in the lonely planet. This is where the fun started. There are 2 other Shanti's in Varanasi due to the popularity of the original, and of course I had no idea where I was going. The tuk-tuk driver and his "friend" that suddenly appeared were obviously working on commission. On arrival I questioned exactly where on the map we were - the hostel owner sheepishly pointed to somewhere much further south that the LP Shanti. I would've stayed there - most of the time imitations are better (and cheaper) than the LP alternatives, but it just wasn't where I wanted to be: near the Manikarnika burning ghat. Waving goodbye to the imitation Shanti and the still-waiting hand-rubbing tuk-tuk drivers I decided to walk along the river on the vast ghats. Hawked for hotels, boat trips and all kinds of drugs en-route I arrived down a dirty alley to an unfriendly welcome at the "real" Shanti. I asked for the cheapest room they had and ended up in a 150 rupee concrete box, with no window and a prison-hard bed! This is fine, but I couldn't help think it was slightly overpriced. 

After a dire nights sleep from the heat I decide to check out and find somewhere new. On walking around the tight old city alleys I hear the Sur Sarita music school recommended to me by a chap I met on a ghat. I poke my head in and see a girl proficiently playing tabla, a man making tabla and another man making a sitar. All of this in an open sided room with the Manikanika burning ghat not 50m away. The girl (Scottish Angie) beckons me to sit so I go over and listen and chat for an hour. She'd been there for a few days, with one one-hour lesson a day and as much time as you want to sit there and practice! (she's still there now at the time of writing this). I meet the teacher and book my first lesson. From this point I spend a lot of my time here. Locals, cows, dogs and goats all pop in of pop their head around the door to say hi. The "beautiful man" (Angie's quote) from the stall on the ghat brings tiny pottery cups of delicious chai for us to drink and smash the cup once finished.  

 

As it's so open it's incredibly hard to concentrate on learning tabla. Being next to the burning ghat for hours every day you really get a feel for this place and something gets inside you, compelling you to stay, just one more day. When I first saw the burning ghat I sat for ages, feeling slightly ill from the overpowering smells and sights - my very first time I saw a leg poking out from the blazing pile of wood, and couldn't help but stare at it in morbid fascination. Wandering around the maze of back streets in the old town you're passed regularly by male family members quickly carrying their sparkly robed dead to the pyre on bamboo stretchers while chanting "Rama nama satya hai". Surrounded by death at first seems too much, but then you read more about the rituals and religious thought processes with the families (and animals) involved and you start to understand. Krishna said "worn-out garments are shed by the body: worn-out bodies are shed by the dweller within. New bodies are donned by the dweller". It's incredibly complex and far too much to write about on this diary. You can read more about Hindu cremation ceremonies here.

Manikanika ghat under a full moon

My tabla learning was seriously hindered (Hindu-ed) by everything that was happening around me, I could concentrate more when in the private room upstairs but even then (with a better view of the ghat) I found myself staring out of the window. I loved playing the tabla and have always been interested in percussion instruments and seeing them made by matriculate craftsmen right in front of me prompted me to buy some. (the top-end copper ones if you must know!) Maybe I'll be able to concentrate (and therefore play) more in London - if the neighbours don't kill me.

Panna Lal (expert tabla maker) and my tabla!

As I have nowhere to stay Angie recommended her hostel to me, the Sunrise, just down from the Manikanika ghat. What a great place! The staff are so friendly and welcoming, and the food is fantastic. On their door it says "Our guest house is poor but our heart is big for you". They have a 150 rupee room for me, suspecting the worst I go for a look. I'm led down the side of the building towards the river, and up a tiny staircase. The manager opens a door to the smallest room I've ever seen. It's perched high up, almost over the river, with two windows (chicken wire) and a bed... that's it! I love it! Such charm, and what a view, wow! I put my bag down with a smile and the manager smiles back "good room!" I settled in here nicely.

 

Varinasi is an extra mind-bending place just when you thought you'd seen it all in India. I met people who hated it and didn't understand the fuss or notion behind it but I absolutely fell in love with it, and the people. Anyone going to India has to have this on their to-do list, but when you're there you don't have to do anything - you'll simply absorb it.