Varanasi Ganga Mahotsav- a perfect tourism promotion event

The Ganga Mahotsav in Varanasi on Nov 8-9, 2011 was a treat to watch, and a reason by itself for someone to visit Varanasi. This is an annual tourism promotion event organized by the Government of India, in partnership with U.P. Tourism. The four-day open-air event on the bank of the river ends a day before Kartik Purnima (the full moon day of the 7th month of the Hindu calender) and the and Dev Deepavali festival, with the best of the events scheduled in the last two days. This creates an opportunity to showcase local culture to the large number of Indian and foreign tourists and pilgrims who congregate in Varanasi for the special day ahead. The traditional games are scheduled during daytime, while the evening is for cultural events involving some of the best exponents of India. A number of traditional games were scheduled on 8th- the day I reached. Boat race, pony race and kite flying events were scheduled at different locations. I rushed to the nearest venue at RPG just in time to see some amazing examples of “pehlwani” (traditional exercise regimen of body-builders and wrestlers) that Varanasi is famous for. Two famous pehlwans competed to rotate two huge conical weights (locally called “Jodi”), each looking like a truncated cone and weighing 22 kilograms each! The special variation of the equipment used in this case was called “kaantewali Jodi” (mace with nails) and the people who can twirl these around their head and shoulders are becoming rare even in Varanasi. The pehlwan who won performed 30 rotations of both hands with these massive weights in each. The one who lost did it 27 times.
I would be buried and stapled to the ground if I tried doing this even once! But then, these strong men go through a rigorous training, healthy diet and regimented lifestyle for a long time to reach this level. India had a glorious past in wrestling- the 60s was the golden decade in which India won several medals in Asian and Commonwealth games. It was also a popular fitness regime in the cities. Even Rabindranath Tagore had a wrestling teacher named Kana Pehlwan. The emcee was heard lamenting on the microphone that the reason for decline of the sport is the fascination of the young generation with cricket. After the pehelwan show, a bunch of young boys performed a delightful show of Malkhamb. This is a traditional Indian sport in which gymnast(s) performs feats and poses in concert with a vertical wooden pole or rope. Three tables of decreasing surface area were stacked and balanced on glass bottles. The top-most table had the pole which could rotate on its vertical axis. Five boys did some amazing formations on the pole. It was a treat to watch them gracefully positioned on the pole, the one on the top balancing himself on his stomach and the others gripping the pole with their hand or feet, and turning the pole slowly to present a 360 degree view of the entire formation. Not once did the entire structure, delicately balanced on glass bottles, topple over. The audience for all this was senior officials from the state and police administration, along with hundreds of locals and tourists cheering the performers. The venue was an amphitheatre-style section of the Rajendra Prasad Ghat adjoining the main Dasaswamedh Ghat. The river provided a beautiful backdrop for the event. In the evening, the venue transformed itself in to a perfect cultural concert stage.

From 8 pm till 11 pm, India’s leading exponents of dance, classical vocal, sarod and santoor performed on 8th and 9th. Kathak dance performance by Ravishankar Mishra and Mataprasad Mishra and santoor recital by Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma were big attractions. The open-air ambience and the appreciation of the large and discerning audience (mixed equally between foreign tourists and local visitors made the event truly memorable.

Varanasi Trip- Train Travel Tales

I am a citizen and resident of India- urban bred and generally privileged. I had heard that there are two countries residing in the same geographical space- India and Bharat. I started my sojourn of the social and religious festivals of India last year at the Kumbha Mela with an objective of exploring the soul of Bharat- through people-centric experience at these events. The 3-day Ganga Mahotsav (mega festival centered around the river Ganga) in Varanasi, culminating in the Dev Deepavali (God’s festival of lights) celebration on Kartik Purnima (full moon day of the 7th month of the Hindu calendar, coinciding with November-December of the English calendar), which this year was on November 10th, seemed to be the perfect opportunity for this year. So, I trawled the internet for background information on the oldest living city of the world that is Varanasi, and its older incarnation- Kashi. The outcome was a seven-page background note for the trip, including two pages on food- if you know me, you won’t be surprised at this. Some people eat to live, some others live to eat.


My people experience began earlier than I bargained for. The Doon Express had an unmistakable Varanasi destination profile, with foreign passengers starting to arrive at the platform. They arrived in small groups, but started to coalesce and ended up with a group of about a dozen men and women. Surely they had booked through a common travel agent or site, as their seats were assigned together too. I had talked to a sub-group of three when we were pouring over the reservation chart. The gentleman from France, sporting a large tribal design pendant and a saffron scarf with Ohm splattered all over it, said he keeps visiting India for the “people experience”, and this time he has brought his niece and her friend with him. They had stayed in a tribal village in Koraput district of Orissa for three weeks before heading for Varanasi. We had a nice conversation before heading for our coach when the train arrived. However his group members didn’t turn out to be quite as decent. Soon after the train started moving at 9 pm, the group started having “fun” and the celebration got louder as the night progressed. The secret of the exuberance was thinly concealed in the glass of “cola” they were sipping. Past 10 pm, some of them felt an urgent need for music, and connected an i-Pod with a portable speaker. The coach attendant and the ticket examiner of the coach were heard grumbling among themselves but dared not throw the rulebook at them. Around 11 pm, I stood up to use the bathroom and had to cross the party zone. My friend the Frenchman was seen resting in peace in his berth, but a brash young guy with a few ladies was keeping the pot boiling. Evidently the spiritual destination did not make me a philosopher yet, because I decided to confront the leader of the pack and ask why he was drinking, playing music loudly and whether he was aware of the railway travel rules. His answer was he is drinking a cola, smell if any is coming from somewhere else through the air-conditioning duct and he is not disturbing others as no one else is complaining. His dismissive and arrogant attitude sparked a late night parliamentary talent in me. The ticket examiner meanwhile had shuffled up behind me and nodded his head vigorously whenever I needed an affirmative nod from him. After a few minutes of loud and fast paced conversation on his knowledge of Open Container Law in his own country, and a politely threatening request for him to calm down and be more sensitive, his party was spoilt and the lights finally dimmed. The coach attendant and an Indian co-passenger later thanked me for standing up and dealing with the issue.
The rest of the journey was otherwise uneventful, except for constant movement of short-distance passengers which you should expect in a train that has multiple stops through states like Uttar Pradesh and Bihar. The only other interesting episode happened when the train reached Mughal Sarai the next morning. The train stops here for about half an hour. A few minutes before arrival, I was intrigued to see our coach attendant moving around wearing only a gamcha (Indian hand-woven towel). As soon as the train stopped, he quickly hopped out of the train from the non-platform side of the train, pulled out a hose that is used to refill water in the train toilets, and started bathing like an elephant, right under my window. It was certainly a regular affair, as he perfectly timed his shower, and even used a soap and worked out profuse amount of lather. When the train was about to roll again, he was back in the compartment, dressed and fresh as a daisy.

Arrived at Varanasi Junction at 11 am, hopped on to a rickshaw and headed on towards the old city in search of a hotel with basic amenity before embarking on the floatel of spirituality. More on that in the following posts.

From India to Bharat- Ram Ramapati Bank in Varanasi

On the first day of my trip to Varanasi on the occasion of Kartik Purnima-Dev Deepavali in November 2011, I visited the Ram Ramapati Bank, located at D-5/35 Tripura Bhairavi, Dasaswamedh, Varanasi 221001. This was located inside the famously labyrinthian alleys of Varanasi, within walking distance of the main Dasaswamedh Ghat and very close to the Vishwanath Temple. I learnt about this unique spiritual institution when doing my research on Varanasi. Run for over eighty years as a family initiative, the Bank does not deal with money. All that an account holder has to do is scribble Lord Ram's name in red ink 125,000 times on paper and keep it as a “deposit” with the Bank. At a rate of 500 per day, the task is scheduled to be completed exactly in 8 months and 10 days. The clientele of over 100,000 is spread over different states of India and also U.S., Canada and West Indies. After the sacred scribble is deposited by a particular account holder, the Bank carries out a series of rituals that are aimed to bring prosperity and good luck to his life. The Bank even gives a loan till the time an account holder writes Lord Ram's name the required number of times and returns the paper. Then the loan is considered repaid. The account holder has to deposit all the sacred scribble within eight months and 10 days from the date of sanctioning of the loan. There are other conditions, such as taking a bath before the scribbling. Account holders are also required to shun non-vegetarian food, onion and garlic during the entire period. The Bank does not charge a penny for its service, rather it even provides the paper and pen. It does not have a sign board outside, and is clearly publicity-averse. However, everyone seemed to know the place when I asksed for directions.

When I sheepishly walked in to the traditional Benarasi style house, I was cordially welcomed by the Manager. He was seated in a thin mattress on the ground, which covered half of the large room. I left my shoes outside the room and tentatively sat on the edge of the mattress. I was advised to climb in and seat inside the mattress with my legs folded. This was the traditional seating arrangement in most homes at one time. The walls had several large photos depicting scenes from Lord Ram’s life, and there was a Ram temple in one corner of the room.
He asked for my whereabouts, explained the functioning of the Bank and then very kindly invited me to the inner courtyard of the house to see the Bank’s “vault” where thousands of prayers by the faithful account holders are safely kept, neatly wrapped in red cloth bundles. He then arranged for the temple to be opened and allowed me a darshan of Ramlalla (Lord Ram’s childhood incarnation). He even allowed me to take photographs of the place. At the end of the conversation, he gave me a rulebook written in Hindi, a simple account opening form and gifted me a packet of “pavitra roli” (fine red vermillion powder, used to mark foreheads as a sign of religiosity). He said with firm conviction that if I say Raam naam ten times every morning and apply the roli on my forehead, it will protect me from all dangers.

I went to Varanasi to explore the soul of India. Hailing from a society where religiosity is primarily in the private domain, bold acts of religious faith are scarce and philanthropy is usually on a timid many-to-one mutual-fund style model (subscription for community puja, private domantions to one or two large humanitarian institutions and contribution to Chief Minister's relief fund), this uniquely bold model of one family coming forward to strengthen the roots of faith for thousands of people on a selfless basis for nearly a century impressed and enriched me. I witnessed more examples of this model in the next day of Kartik Purnima (first full moon day after Diwali; on the 7th month of the Hindu calender) when many of the commercial restaurants ran Bhandaras (free meals) for the millions of pilgrims who convered in the city for a dip in the river on this auspicious day. This was my perfect introduction to the spirituality of this oldest living city of the world.