I am sitting in the lobby of the Haifa Hotel not far from Assi Ghat. It’s warm now, the air is barely moving, despite the afternoon breeze in the street. Ray is fast asleep on the sofa chair immediately opposite us.
Last night we took an evening boat cruise. The wind was cool over the Ganges, the river barely moving. I lent down and felt the silky warm water with my fingers. The bridges to north and south are in haze. The river is wide here at Varanasi, and so the many boats do not crowd up as madly as do the roads. In the evening, the boats carry tourists like us, but also pilgrims for the night ceremonies along the shores of the Ganges. At the second, larger Burning Ghat, two furious funeral pyres burnt tall and brightly, sending a long orange reflection toward us. Other lights on the waterfront and far into the distance likewise shimmered on the water, patterns of yellow, red and gold. We stopped in the river not far beyond the Burning Ghats, and each of us launched small cardboard bowls, each with a lit candle and a small flower. Every one a wish. This is the flower ceremony. They seemed to hover in the darkness as they flowed away from the boat, forming small gay flotillas of flickering light until the candles were blown out by the wind and they began their voyage to Bay of Bengal. The boat handler picked up the heavy black steel crank and started the motor, and steered us back the way we had come. We stopped at a large ghat, it was brightly lit, light displays shining iridescence into the crowds on the ghat and into the water. Many, many boats began to cram the space, boat handlers ran along gunwales, securing or pushing, jamming all the boats together. It was dark behind us but in front the white clothed priests sang out, all was light and sound and smells as Bollywood guitars, sitars and tabla supported three singers; these men are dressed in gold and red brocade. They sang and did motions with their arms, a slow ritual dance of the gods, then held up and swung a burning beam of incense, the smoke still pungent even as far away as we were. The performance went on for 40 minutes or more, and concluded after flaming ” candelabras” were held into the air and laid on the ground at their feet.
This same ritual was performed on at least four locations on the Varanasi Ghats. The reason is this; each night the faithful must sing the gods to sleep and in the morning to sing and rouse them awake. Most of the people in the boats, and on the ghats were pilgrims, watching and enjoying one of the great traditions of Hinduism.
In every Hindu home, small temples are used to perform similar ceremonies every morning and night. Each family has favourite gods and saints.
We had dinner at the hotel, then went to bed. At dinner, Alejandro told an amusing story. Alejandro arrived in Delhi too late for the briefing but had checked online to see if there were other single people, especially a girl, on the trip. He discovered that Anna was single. Okay, so far so good. The tour commenced, and Alejandro met Anna. Anna is in her late fifties. Oh well. But then Alejandro was amazed. He hear Anna volunteering to wash Peter’s clothes. Alejandro was impressed, this man is a master. On only the second day of a tour, Peter had so quickly conquered Anna, that she is not only doing his washing, but is happy to be hugged and kissed by him. Wow!!! The truth is that Peter and Anna are well and truly married and that there is a second young Anna, much closer to his own age.

This morning, we said goodbye to George and Grace now on their way back to Canada.

A few of us braved tuk tuks for a trip to the Buddhist temple ruins in Varanasi. This area is one of the four most sacred locations for Buddhists. It was here that Buddha gave his first sermon after his enlightenment under the Bodhi Tree. There are ruins of a large Buddhist community, as well as an immense stupa commemorating Buddha. On it are carved letters, flowers and designs. There is a museum with many artefacts of Ashoka and the Gupta kingdoms recovered from Sarnath. The centrepiece at his fine museum was his capital pillar. Ashoka lived in 273BC. SO It is over 2200years old. On top of the huge sculpture, standing on a great wheel are four seated lions. All are symbols of Buddhism. Around the wheel, and below the lions are four smaller wheels, and between each of them is an animal, an elephant, a bullock, a lion, and a Horse. It is sculpted from a light brown marble. The base is an unfolded lotus. There is some damage but it is still an excellent and awe inspiring example of Gupta art and religion.

Th other really notable stone sculpture is a Gupta period Buddha with the most delicate of features, face and hands, and behind it a stone umbrella carved with intricate motifs. Nearby is a Jain temple, and a giant Buddha – 80 feet high.

We were conveyed back to our hotel by the waiting tuk tuks , through god awful traffic. Typical! Then a super lunch at Open Hand cafe. Ray joined us on the tour and lunch. It is now 4pm and in a few hours we board the train to Delhi. We have noodles for Jennifer and muffins for me, to gave on the train.