Backtracking: Last Night in Varanasi

This sketch is from my last night in Varanasi, which was quite beautiful:

Jan 22, 2012

Tonight, sitting on the steps of Rana Mahal Ghat, I found a man playing Didgeridoo to the Ganga. Such mesmerizing tones--vibrations of Heaven. A crowd has gathered and now there are three Didge players all making rhythms and harmonizing together. The boats putter about on Mother Ganga, amidst star bangles of candles set to float with flowers atop bowls made of leaves. The sound of a bamboo flute drifts by from someone's cellphone. All the while, light streams down and explodes out from the musicians in multicolored, humming waves...A crowd is gathered, both human and ethereal. Waves dance before our eyes as spacial grids expand and contract with the music. Someone is staring at me, as usual.

Today I got henna on my other hand from a woman who was scarred by fire. (Her husband). She had honest eyes and a beautiful smile atop a neck covered in wavy rivulets of scars from the flames. The henna on my hand reminds me of fire. She signed her name on my wrist: "Savitri." I purchased a set of glitter eye shadows and stencils from her - I can tell that this made her day. Savitri seemed like one of those women who is just barely hovering above being a beggar. It felt good to support her by way of trade and business, rather than begging. She gave me a pack of bindis as a bonus, saying "Bless you," as she anointed my forehead with a red one.

This evening I got the boat ride I've been wanting. I waited until I met some other people to go with. It was magical. Somehow, gliding atop Ganga's surface put me in touch with her spirit in a way that I'd not tasted in the four days since I've been here. I went with a couple from Argentina and their baby girl. They captured a moment on camera that I wish I'd been able to also, but I was not quick enough. Hopefully my words will wrap around that moment in such a way as to give you a glimpse of its beauty:

Two Indian women, one young, one old, stand on the far sandy bank of the Ganga. Each one lights a candle, placing it in a leaf bowl full of marigolds and roses. They kneel down beside Ganga's flow and send their prayers off with the candles, hands outstretched and giving. Their saris drape over their heads, shoulders, hips, and waists, like folds of water in the river. They smile at each other with genuine delight as the candles drift away.