Rob and Anna's travel adventure

The other travelers seemed very preoccupied with discussions of Bhutan visa procurement, national parks in Madagascar, how expensive Japan is, etc. All exotic destinations and topics worthy of discussion, but few were appreciating how exotic our current activity was. We were taking a boat ride on the Ganges.

Anna appreciated our experience, as did I. I quickly tuned out the travelers and concentrated at the spectacles before me. There were people washing clothes, bathing, praying, and performing all sorts of rituals. The flames were most noticeable in the darkness. We were passing one of the burning ghats in Varanasi.

My thoughts were absorbed in what such an experience must be like to be directly involved. It was moving for me- a mere spectator in the drama of life- and death. I imagined the sorrow and grief being felt, the final of the 'last good-byes'. For those involved personally, they would always remember this day, this event. As a spectator, I'll always remember the experience. I wondered what it would be like for me to take my recently-departed mother's body to the river, witness the consuming flames, and believe as those standing that the soul is being freed to the heavens. Then to collect the remains, and deposit them to the river, it would be a surreal experience for sure.

And yet, such activity takes place between 200 and 300 times a day, everyday. This, as with most everything else in India, seems perfectly normal. Grieving, fires, cows, children flying kites, singing, praying, it all seems to belong here, all co-existing side by side, day after day, one generation to the next.


The River Ganges




The Final Journey











A Burning Ghat, daylight view.




The Burning Ghat at night, a surreal scene.











In action.