Sarnath is 10 kms. from central Varanasi, but now absorbed as a suburb. It's the antidote to Varanasi. It's clean, green, calm (apart from coachloads of tourists) and orderly (though these are all relative terms). First I must walk to Assi Ghat to find an auto rickshaw. On the way I pass a woman milking a very large buffalo into a steel pail on the street. Sorry, it's a familiar theme, but just behind, another woman is scooping up with her bare hands the steaming heap that the buffalo has just deposited on the road. From it she will make little cakes, about the size and shape of a Big Mac bun (but perhaps more nutritious). Joke. These are not, of course, for consumption except as fuel. I spotted them earlier in some single-room dwellings, burning in little stoves with pans of rice simmering over them. This reminds that I have a very slight touch of the DBs (or should it be the VRs - Varanasi Runs) so I buy a strip of fat yellow tablets as a precaution. Before taking them, I check them out via Google, which confirms that they should do the trick, treating the causes as well as the symptoms. However, the list of possible side-effects includes diarrhoea, which seems counter productive.
My tuk-tuk driver treats me to a running commentary as we head towards Sarnath. England, he says, is a good country with honest cricketers. Cambridge is the best university in the world, closely followed by Varanasi. "Red light," he says, pointing up to a red traffic light, ignoring it to barge the rickshaw on through the melee.
Temple Crawl, 1. Sarnath is a major Buddhist centre. It is where the Buddha preached his first sermon, and one of the founders of the Jain faith was also born here at about the same time. Buddhism was all but eliminated during the long centuries of Muslim rule, but from the 1920s onwards, the significance of Sarnath was recognised and it became a place of pilgrimage once more. So much so that every country with a distinct Buddhist tradition built temples and monasteries here, so there are now Indian, Tibetan, Thai, Nepalese, Chinese, Japanese and Korean all living in apparent harmony. There's also an archaeological park, a deer park with boating lake, and a museum of sculptural treasures from the 5th century BC onwards. The earliest of these rivals the contemporary classical world in sophistication. I ask the driver to wait three hours, then 'phone him to make it four, but could do with a full day to see everything. I see a couple of ancient stupas (tall brick towers) which mark sites of Buddhist significance, the bodhi tree (offshoot of one from Bihar under which the Buddha gained enlightenment), and temples of course. I buy a little moulded clay plaque of the Buddha from a hawker. "I made it myself," he lied.
The Jain temple is the oldest of the present temple crop (1824) and perhaps the most beautiful. I remove my shoes, but the steward asks me also to take off my (leather) belt and wash my hands and mouth before entering. He then fills me in on some basic rules of Jainism - strict dietary laws, regular prayers, sex no more than four times a year, no harm to animals or insects or use of any animal products, etc. He has a series of large laminated coloured photos as visual aids, the first of which shows himself standing with his guru, both of them stark naked. It's certainly a novel way of arresting visitors' attention. I must suggest it to our Wymondham Abbey stewards.
Temple Crawl, 2. I return late afternoon and eat at the guest house. Later I go to meet my new friend in the souvenir shop near Assi Ghat. He's promised me a temple crawl - more (Hindu) temples! - and we set off on foot round parts of the city away from the "Ganga" (both hard Gs, by the way). Imagine an English church crawl where every church you visit is not only open but full of people of all ages engaged in worship, at 10 o'clock at night. Unthinkable! But here in Varanasi, religion and everyday life are two sides of a coin. There can't be a cafe, a shop, a car or taxi that is not emblazoned with religious symbols. NF (new friend - embarrassingly I've forgotten his name) shows me what to do. Remove shoes; touch each marble step, then my forehead; visit each image in turn, clockwise; make an offering of flowers or cash (not essential) and have red paste applied; pass my hand through burning flames carried round by priests. The practice seems to vary from shrine to shrine. The monkey temple (Ganesh) is the most fervent, but in another a group are chanting to sounding brass or a clashing cymbal.
Three Men on a Motor Bike. After this, NF takes me home to meet his dog, brothers and family who live in a sort of two storey tenement, each with their own small cell off a shared central space. We go out on the roof and watch a wedding party in full swing on the roof of a neighbouring house. Bro no. 2 then whisks us off on his motorbike to a beer stall where we (I mean I) buy cans of strong (8%) Kingfisher, which we drink rather surreptitiously down a dark alley. No pubs in Varanasi. The bike is soft seated, exhilarating and cool. Three men on a motorbike. Or two when we spot a policeman and NF jumps off he back. Even here, the law disallows three men on one bike, though whole families are apparently exempt.
My tuk-tuk driver treats me to a running commentary as we head towards Sarnath. England, he says, is a good country with honest cricketers. Cambridge is the best university in the world, closely followed by Varanasi. "Red light," he says, pointing up to a red traffic light, ignoring it to barge the rickshaw on through the melee.
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| Stupa - note school groups in foreground. No escape! |
Temple Crawl, 1. Sarnath is a major Buddhist centre. It is where the Buddha preached his first sermon, and one of the founders of the Jain faith was also born here at about the same time. Buddhism was all but eliminated during the long centuries of Muslim rule, but from the 1920s onwards, the significance of Sarnath was recognised and it became a place of pilgrimage once more. So much so that every country with a distinct Buddhist tradition built temples and monasteries here, so there are now Indian, Tibetan, Thai, Nepalese, Chinese, Japanese and Korean all living in apparent harmony. There's also an archaeological park, a deer park with boating lake, and a museum of sculptural treasures from the 5th century BC onwards. The earliest of these rivals the contemporary classical world in sophistication. I ask the driver to wait three hours, then 'phone him to make it four, but could do with a full day to see everything. I see a couple of ancient stupas (tall brick towers) which mark sites of Buddhist significance, the bodhi tree (offshoot of one from Bihar under which the Buddha gained enlightenment), and temples of course. I buy a little moulded clay plaque of the Buddha from a hawker. "I made it myself," he lied.
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| Jain Temple |
The Jain temple is the oldest of the present temple crop (1824) and perhaps the most beautiful. I remove my shoes, but the steward asks me also to take off my (leather) belt and wash my hands and mouth before entering. He then fills me in on some basic rules of Jainism - strict dietary laws, regular prayers, sex no more than four times a year, no harm to animals or insects or use of any animal products, etc. He has a series of large laminated coloured photos as visual aids, the first of which shows himself standing with his guru, both of them stark naked. It's certainly a novel way of arresting visitors' attention. I must suggest it to our Wymondham Abbey stewards.
Three Men on a Motor Bike. After this, NF takes me home to meet his dog, brothers and family who live in a sort of two storey tenement, each with their own small cell off a shared central space. We go out on the roof and watch a wedding party in full swing on the roof of a neighbouring house. Bro no. 2 then whisks us off on his motorbike to a beer stall where we (I mean I) buy cans of strong (8%) Kingfisher, which we drink rather surreptitiously down a dark alley. No pubs in Varanasi. The bike is soft seated, exhilarating and cool. Three men on a motorbike. Or two when we spot a policeman and NF jumps off he back. Even here, the law disallows three men on one bike, though whole families are apparently exempt.
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