Reflections on Varanasi

I am writing this post on Varanasi from Bodhgaya. It has been bubbling in my mind for some time. We have now been to all the cities and villages we will visit, and so there is some basis for comparison. Varanasi is reputed to be the oldest continually inhabited city in the world. It is old. The small roads (more like alleys - and that is a generous description) are the smallest. It is the dirtiest (no small feat in India where everything is dirty), the people seem to be more cramped. The place is teaming with people and animals and noise. The sick and maimed are everywhere begging in the streets. There are small holes in the walls where a person must crouch to get in, and in these man-made caves, some people live. They burn fires and cook their meals, and the smoke pours into the street. Their fuel, by the way is cow dung. You must watch carefully as you walk the streets (this is true of everywhere we have been) in order to avoid stepping in fresh poop piles here and there. The animals roam mostly untethered, and go wherever they go. I don't even want to know what was on the nethermost hem of my shentap, but I was delighted to have it laundered! I notice that the dung stays in the streets no longer that 24-48 hours and then it has disappeared. No, there is no neat street cleaner. Someone has scooped it up, and it is formed into something that looks like a large hamburger patty and dried for fuel (you may noice some drying in the photo.) If it were not for this endless supply of animal dung, generously deposited by them on every street, there would be a severe fuel shortage. Imagine if you will, throwing this in your fireplace. What an interesting smoke it makes; and do you want to cook your meals over it!? (I promise not to bring one home as a souvenir- Or maybe I will. After all, I get to give my students the lecture later this quarter on treating diarrhea and constipation. Talk about an audiovisual aid!) Varanasi is also where we saw the burning ghats - where hundreds of the dead are cremated daily and their remains scattered into the Ganges. So death was in your face in Varanasi.

In contrast, we occasionally ate at a restaurant atop a hotel that was all done in marble - the floors, the walls- all marble. So there in Varanasi the story of Lord Buddha Shakyamuni came alive. It was not something of legend or fable or a movie. (No offense to the movie "Little Buddha", but it did not come close to conveying the stark contrast that must have occurred when Prince Siddhartha walked out of his privileged and sheltered palace, entered the streets and saw life as it was lived 2500 years ago (and is still lived today!!) There in Varanasi, in 3-D, with the sights and sounds and smells and tastes and textures, is the suffering and death he saw. Great bodhisattva that he was, it is no wonder he arose in unshakable determination and said, "This is not acceptable. I WILL find freedom. I will find a way to rescue all beings from cycling through this suffering endlessly. And I will not stop until I do!"

And he did: Here in Bodhgaya, where I will soon return to the temple and do kora and offer prayers.

May all beings have happiness and the cause of happiness
May they be free from suffering and the causes of suffering

and may there be a rain of dharma