LIFE AND LIES #25 | Varuna and Assi
“So that’s why the name Varanasi,” Vishal uttered his epiphany out loud. “Varuna plus Assi?”
“Obviously,” replied Somnath. “Didn’t you know that?”
“Never thought about it. I guess, for me, it has always been Benares.”
That was then, more than two years ago.
As of this moment, Vishal could give a personalized tour of Benares, all by himself. And that is exactly what he has been doing with Sheth and Ajay for the past few days while Somnath was making arrangements for his wedding. Still, Vishal won’t go as far as comparing himself with the resident Benaresi, who according to his plan, has joined the three of them tonight. A day after he got married, miracle, huh?
Well, things always line up for Vishal when it comes to these sorts of things. In this case, a custom called: Kaalratri, where the boy – scratch that – groom – no – husband cannot see his wife, post-dusk, one day after marriage. So here was Somnath, the oldest one of them, telling stories about the oldest city known; an old grandma in Reebok shoes.
“This one is named Tulsi Ghat because according to legends, this is where Tulsi Das used to come and write his magnum opus: Ramcharitmanas. Now, if you head straight in this direction,” Somnath points towards a flight of stairs leading away from the Ghat. “You’ll reach Sankat Mochan Temple. Though, the temple wasn’t built then, Tulsi Das used to live somewhere around that area. Now…”
“Nice,” Sheth chimes in. “Look at the river. Because of the fog, it looks incredible.”
“Yeah, it does,” replies Somnath. “What I did once was, took a boat during a similar foggy weather and went to the other side. It felt like I was crossing the river Styx.”
“Was your boatman named Charon,” Vishal quips, thinking about the ferryman who carries the souls of the deceased across the river Styx to the world of the dead. Kind of fits in the Benares scenario.
“Yeah probably.” Somnath continues on, “I could witness the entire river generating fog, every thin layer of it, slowly rising through the air. And absolute silence. Imagine that. Very amazing experience.”
“You’ll do it tomorrow morning,” Ajay taps Sheth on the back. “Won’t you?”
“And afterwards, we can go to that massage parlor you were talking about,” Vishal adds.
Sheth shies away.
“Anyway, where was I… yeah Sankat Mochan,” Somnath resumes. “There is a common misconception regarding the foundation of the temple that Lord Hanuman appeared in person in front of Tulsi Das there. That is not the case. What actually happened was that Tulsi Das was stuck somewhere, struggling to finish his work.”
“Wow, even Tulsi Das faced Writer’s block,” adds Vishal.
“Absolutely. So he would head home whenever he couldn’t overcome his writer’s block. But what eventually started to happen was when he woke up in the morning, he would find that somebody had completed portions of his work. It is believed that it was Lord Hanuman who had written those portions and helped Tulsi Das complete Ramcharitmanas. And that is why Sankat Mochan was built there where Tulsi Das used to live.”
“Ramcharitmanas was written in 17th century, right,” asks Ajay.
“Yes,” replies Soumo. “That’s why Sankat Mochan is so famous. Lord Hanuman appearing in 17th century is considered a big deal. He is, after all, one of the Seven Immortals.”
Chiranjivis, Vishal tries to remember. Blessed or cursed (in case of Ashwathama) with eternal life. Lord Hanuman is one. Then there’s Vibhishana. And of course, Parashuram. Rest, he can’t recall.
The four of them keep walking. It’s the end of November and they have been walking alongside the river at nighttime. It’s getting chillier by the second.
“This one is Anandmai Ghat,” announces Somnath.
“Bong Ghat,” Vishal adds. "People come to Benares from all over the country in the name of Kashi Yatra. And when they do, they need a place to stay, Dharamshalas and ashrams, etc. That’s how all the Ghats were constructed and it clearly shows how they have been done differently by people visiting from different regions."
“Have you guys seen the movie: Water,” Somnath asks them.
Vishal hasn't. Neither have Sheth and Ajay.
“It is based on the lives of widows living in an ashram at Benares in the 1930s. In those days, after a woman’s husband died, a woman had only three choices: throw herself on the funeral pyre, marry her husband’s brother or continue the rest of her life as a widow in an ashram with other widows.”
“It doesn’t happen these days, right,” asks Sheth.
“Yes, it does. Even these days, you’ll find Bong widows living upstairs in Anandmai ashram. After they are shunned from their family, they come and live here with shaved heads, leading a life of austerity. They come here to die.”
“Is there no law against it,” asks Sheth, sounding horrified.
“Why should there be a law,” replies Ajay. “It’s a voluntary thing.”
“That’s true,” Somnath sighs. He must have wondered the same thing himself many times before. “In a way, it’s better that they live here in the ashrams than on the streets of Bengal.”
“There’s another concept you guys might be familiar with,” Somnath begins after a pause. “People come to Benares to die. Dying here supposedly breaks the cycle of birth and death.”
Vishal knows what Soumo is talking about. In fact, there’s an actual place called Mumukshu Bhawan, not far from Assi Ghat, where people, mostly in their 60s come from far off places and stay there till they die.
They walk in silence for a while, maybe because of the turn the conversation took.
Ajay breaks the silence, at last.
“Of course, this Ghat looks good.”
Vishal follows his line of sight and spots the painted sign. They have reached Jain Ghat.
“Yeah obviously the opulence, it shows,” Somnath smiles and turns to Sheth, who is lighting a cigarette. “Compared to this Ghat, Anandmai Ghat looks like it was constructed by CPM on a constrained budget.”
Vishal snatches the cigarette from Sheth’s hand. He is taken aback and yells, “Oye.”
“Sheth, why disgrace your community like this. If they come to know, they’ll cast you out and then you’ll have to come and live with the Bong widows.”
“He won’t complain, I’m sure,” comments Ajay.
Sheth hasn’t heard a word, focused entirely on the cigarette Vishal is holding. He gives it back.
“See that building with the light on top,” Somnath draws everyone’s attention. “That is Chet Singh Palace. It’s one of the photogenic Ghats. Manyavar conducts their photoshoots there. The place has an interesting story associated with it.”
The palace towers over them as they approach closer. It looked even better when Vishal showed it to Sheth and Ajay, the other day during the boat ride.
“Raja Chet Singh was more of a local legend than a king. He was imprisoned here during the time of Warren Hastings. What he did was, in the dead of the night, he unfurled his pagdi – like the safa I was wearing on the wedding day, only his was nine meters long – tied it to the railing on the top, climbed down then swam across the river and escaped.”
“Why did you skip Nishadraj Ghat,” Vishal asks Somnath when he finishes.
“Because I didn’t have a story about it.”
“Oh, I thought you are a Brahmin. That’s why.”
It takes Somnath a moment to grasp the joke.
“Arre no,” he laughs while Ajay and Sheth bear a puzzled look. “Nishad what?”
“Nishadas belong to Sudra class, so…” Somnath answers.
“Bad joke, Vishal,” says Ajay.
After crossing the Chet Singh palace, they come across a wide open space. There’s no clear demarcation between the Ghats. Sometimes, it’s difficult to tell where one Ghat ends and another begins.
“We have a wedding custom back home,” begins Ajay. “It’s called Kashi Yatra. Just before the marriage ceremony, the groom refuses to get married, saying that he’s going to Kashi; that he’ll take up an ashram there and chill. And then every family member begs the groom to stay.”
“Yeah I know about that,” says Somnath. “Benares has such a bad reputation.”
Vishal thinks about saying the same thing when his parents force him to get married.
“Basically,” begins Sheth. “The groom has a premonition of the Schopenhauer’s guilt that he is going to feel the next day."
Everyone laughs. Sheth just did what he does.
They stay there for a while before deciding to head back to Assi Ghat.
Some words find Vishal on the way, struggling to be put in the right order.
Out of nowhere
We come to be born
Somewhere unknown
We go after we die
Life happens in between.
Varuna meets Ganga
Somewhere up north,
So does Assi
Down in the south
Defining Varanasi in between.
*****
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