Pilgrims

Sunrise on the Ganga is a thing of beauty to behold. In the darkness of early morning I made my way back down to the ghats where I had been so assaulted yesterday by the boatmen wanting to ply their trade for my benefit. This morning I intended to let one have his way. I wanted to journey out onto the river and see the event for myself.

The air was cold, a symptom of the chill that has thrown itself like a snowy blanket over the north of the country, particularly in the west where avalanches have killed dozens of people and cut the area off from the rest of India.
I had my fleece over a t-shirt and Alcatraz pulled low to my eyebrows. Navigating in the dim light I am reminded of the times this trip I had been paying more attention to the city than the road I shared with sacred cows and bulls. Mistake. So I was watching for anything dark and roundish so as to step around it. Stepping down to the river, at its lowest point of the year, I negotiated with a boatman for an hour of his time and off we went.

Rowing slowly he spoke in broken English to fill in historical blanks he knew I had concerning certain areas of shoreline, buildings, temples and further landmarks. While not everything was understandable, I received everything with a smile and a nod. This was a gesture I learned from ordering food in the restaurants here. The waiters do it. The river was still since I was one of the first boats of the day. A few fishermen were working their nets. As dawn approached old men and women were beginning to make their way down to the waters edge. Some were starting their laundry early, others dishes but most were there to bathe in the sacred water of the Ganga and to pray as the sun rose over the horizon. It would have to be only that which would convince me a man would walk into that freezing, incredibly dirty water in the chill of early morning. Many believe they are granted remission of sins for doing so. Others believe it must be only on certain occasions. The certain occasion people stayed in bed this morning.

I was far more interested in the flat of the calm water than anything the shoreline had to offer. The mist on the far bank hid the brightness of the sun as it started to peek over the horizon, slowly sliding up and up until fully visible but still enveloped in the mist, all faithfully mirrored by the still water. Soon however the water became crowded with all sizes of boats. There were couple in smaller rowed skiffs like the one I had all the way up to African Queen style boats motoring up and down in front of the ghats and all the activity they contained.


My hour was up about now however and I was able to get a cup of filter (real) coffee, a spectacularly baked cinnamon roll (the Germans have influenced baking here) and a cheese omelet for about $3.50. Tomorrow I am off to Delhi by train in the afternoon, to arrive early the next morning. I will try to post before that but if I don't get a chance, see you there!