Varanasi - Fog and Bells
I went to Benares Hindu University (BHU) yesterday and walked for hours on the campus. Long, wide avenues stretch into the distance and are canopied with tall, thick-trunked trees. The orange and white buildings, apparantly the official color of BHU, are hidden amongst all of this rampant greenery. The buildings are ornate masterpieces, usually several stories in height with fluted columns and decorated ledges dividing each floor, but many of these architectural embellishments have softened with age and are melting down the walls. This, combined with the greenery and spread out nature of the campus, gives one the feeling that the place is the crumbling infrastructure of a great lost civilization that was found and just recently inhabited by a bunch of academics. As well, the recently hazy weather gave a suffused yellow glow to the whole scene, only adding to the overall feeling of being in the presence of some mysterious place.
The campus is a haven from the hustle and bustle of the city, a difference that you immediately notice as you pass through the major archway entrance of the campus. There are mostly rickshaws here, but in fewer numbers than on the city streets, less motor vehicles, too, and a distinct lack of cows and people attempting to sell you things. The dirt by the side of the road shows the signs of being recently swept, as indicated by the lines of the grass brushes used here and in Nepal. If you are up early enough in the morning, you can see this happening most everywhere. On this topic, there are also no lawnmowers or grass cutters, instead people are simply squatting on the side, pulling grass by hand and putting it in a basket to haul away.
Many students aproached me and simply wanted to talk or find out why I was walking around on the campus. I guess not too many tourists wander through there. I found the geology and geophysics building and spent a few minutes looking through the hallways and classrooms. Dimly lit, tall hallways, reminiscent of old schools in the states with hardwood floors and nice, large stairways. Not much going on, however, in terms of people coming and going or recent research posted outside professors' doors. No conversation with anyone, either - - professors are the same world round, and to simply disturb someone's busy day of contemplation or work to basically make the comment that, "I study geology too!," is unnescessary.
Went to a fantastic concert on the banks of the Ganges last night, at Dasashwamedh Ghat, called the "main ghat" by many, as it is one of the biggest social gathering spots on the banks. The concert started after dark but I arrived a few hours into it. Great, free seats for tourists! Tabla (drum) playing, sitar strumming, harmonium (kind of a hand powered organ) squeezing, high-pitched lyrics, crazy dancing. It was a showcase of sorts, with several bands and dance groups playing. It is basically Indian folk music, stories set to music or devotional chants to Shiva and other gods of the Hindu pantheon. Rhythmic and hypnotic (code for "repeats itself a lot").
There are more concerts tonight, and more the night after. This is all building up to a very holy celebration Thursday night to Friday night, during the full moon, when the river will be awash in floating candles, supposedly a sight to behold. This is the Ganga Mahotsava, the "Festival of Light" (all those candles, makes sense, right?). This is actually a six-day celebration that started on the 22nd, but the culmination is Friday, it seems.
I took a boat ride at dawn this morning with Tim, a fellow I met who is on exchange from Naropa University, a Buddhist-founded university in Boulder, Colorado. He is studying Indian classical and folk music and is in Varanasi since it is such a center for such music (I believe Ravi Shankar lives here, to give you some connection). His exchange is actually to Sikkim, India, but this is a three week independent study aspect he elected to do as a side trip.
The boat ride was extremely foggy and the sunrise never happened, instead it just got light and I got damp from sitting in a cloud. This fog rolled in last night and the walk back from the concert along the ghats was quite surreal. Devotional music plays on speakers from different ashrams (temples) until quite late and so this music drifts through the weirdly lit fog as you navigate past nasty mush piles, dying cremation fires, and dogs and people sleeping on the steps. The fog has been slowly lifting all day, but it is still a bit hazy. Perhaps a ride tomorrow morning will reveal a better sunrise.
The campus is a haven from the hustle and bustle of the city, a difference that you immediately notice as you pass through the major archway entrance of the campus. There are mostly rickshaws here, but in fewer numbers than on the city streets, less motor vehicles, too, and a distinct lack of cows and people attempting to sell you things. The dirt by the side of the road shows the signs of being recently swept, as indicated by the lines of the grass brushes used here and in Nepal. If you are up early enough in the morning, you can see this happening most everywhere. On this topic, there are also no lawnmowers or grass cutters, instead people are simply squatting on the side, pulling grass by hand and putting it in a basket to haul away.
Many students aproached me and simply wanted to talk or find out why I was walking around on the campus. I guess not too many tourists wander through there. I found the geology and geophysics building and spent a few minutes looking through the hallways and classrooms. Dimly lit, tall hallways, reminiscent of old schools in the states with hardwood floors and nice, large stairways. Not much going on, however, in terms of people coming and going or recent research posted outside professors' doors. No conversation with anyone, either - - professors are the same world round, and to simply disturb someone's busy day of contemplation or work to basically make the comment that, "I study geology too!," is unnescessary.
Went to a fantastic concert on the banks of the Ganges last night, at Dasashwamedh Ghat, called the "main ghat" by many, as it is one of the biggest social gathering spots on the banks. The concert started after dark but I arrived a few hours into it. Great, free seats for tourists! Tabla (drum) playing, sitar strumming, harmonium (kind of a hand powered organ) squeezing, high-pitched lyrics, crazy dancing. It was a showcase of sorts, with several bands and dance groups playing. It is basically Indian folk music, stories set to music or devotional chants to Shiva and other gods of the Hindu pantheon. Rhythmic and hypnotic (code for "repeats itself a lot").
There are more concerts tonight, and more the night after. This is all building up to a very holy celebration Thursday night to Friday night, during the full moon, when the river will be awash in floating candles, supposedly a sight to behold. This is the Ganga Mahotsava, the "Festival of Light" (all those candles, makes sense, right?). This is actually a six-day celebration that started on the 22nd, but the culmination is Friday, it seems.
I took a boat ride at dawn this morning with Tim, a fellow I met who is on exchange from Naropa University, a Buddhist-founded university in Boulder, Colorado. He is studying Indian classical and folk music and is in Varanasi since it is such a center for such music (I believe Ravi Shankar lives here, to give you some connection). His exchange is actually to Sikkim, India, but this is a three week independent study aspect he elected to do as a side trip.
The boat ride was extremely foggy and the sunrise never happened, instead it just got light and I got damp from sitting in a cloud. This fog rolled in last night and the walk back from the concert along the ghats was quite surreal. Devotional music plays on speakers from different ashrams (temples) until quite late and so this music drifts through the weirdly lit fog as you navigate past nasty mush piles, dying cremation fires, and dogs and people sleeping on the steps. The fog has been slowly lifting all day, but it is still a bit hazy. Perhaps a ride tomorrow morning will reveal a better sunrise.
posted by JAshby at 1:23 AM
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