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> AGRA
> I met up with Sarah and Karina (friends from Yog-Ganga in Rajpur) at our measly hotel in Agra after a 10 hour train ride from Haridwar. That was my first train ride experience in India, and no, people are no longer allowed to ride atop the trains singing their hearts away or otherwise and I wasn't in a cow herd type carriage. It was all together quite a pleasant journey, having made friends with the train service staff manager who made a point of checking in on me every so often. Agra town itself is much like the crazed Indian traffic of other cities. Of course, the highlight of tourists here is the Taj Mahal, which Karina got me to somehow agree to a sunrise viewing. I've been to several sights around the world with the "best sunrise views" and had totally ignored any such silliness. But my "training" to get up early for yoga has gotten me to soften up to this idea. It was lovely to arrive at the Taj Mahal grounds before sunrise, but not so much seeing the relatively long queue already at the ticket counter. The little chai stand close by the Western gate made being up at that hour just that bit more worthwhile. I'm not sure either how Unesco justifies charging non-Indians 750 rupees entrance fee and only 20 for Indians. But it was where I took the most photos. Gorgeously stunning. Enough said, methinks. I found the "baby Taj" to be of equally stunning beauty.
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> VARANASI PHEW! Such madness! Thanks for trying to warn us, Hari! The journey from our train to the hotel itself was an experience never to be forgotten. Thankfully, Karina and I had arranged for our hotel to send an auto rickshaw driver to meet us at our train. Whisking us away to Meer Ghat where our hotel was, he thankfully helped me with one of my luggage as I tried not to stare incredulously while meandering through very narrow alleyways (gallis) just barely wide enough for two way pedestrian traffic. We weave through a maze of gallis, trying to avoid trash and cow dung on the ground while keeping up with the stream of people walking at a frenzy pace. This is when I realized why it's more important to have backpack style luggage than wheeled ones. The journey only got more interesting when we come across "traffic jam" with a cows. Upon arriving at Monu's Guest House, we're so thankful it's quite a lovely little spot and CLEAN! Karina and I headed out to Dasaswamedh Ghat, the main ghat, that evening to catch the Ganga aarti, which is carried out in grandiose ceremony. Filled with excitement and perhaps the madness of being in Varanasi, we decided to partake in the puja ritual of light and flowers offering into the Ganga. Lo and behold, no shoes allowed in the holy water! So, Karina and I are lightly stepping into the Ganga, thinking that will somehow help us not feel the dirt, mud and filth floating in and around the edges of water lapping up to the ghat. And we happily (and quickly) place our offering into the water, not wasting the photo opp! Approached by a young seemingly nice boatman, Karina once again loops me into another early sunrise adventure for the next morning. The boatman agreed to take us to the burning ghat that night where we ended up witnessing cremations in mesmerization for over an hour. Aside from yoga, this was another deep desire for coming to India. I was astounded at how natural the whole process was and how many bodies were being brought to that ghat in the time we were there. Even upon death, it is sad how one's caste or cash determines the way the body is treated, placed on the funeral pyre and the type of wood used. I've been to three of my grandparents' cremations, but seeing bodies in full view ablaze brings a deeper meaning and understanding of death. And perhaps even further acceptance of death, dying and the impermanence of life.
