I was lost, and then found....

6 December 2008. Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh, India.

When I began planning this adventure, the one place that I knew I wanted to stay a while was Banares, now Varanasi. I had first been moved deeply about Hinduism about twelve years ago, when at a scholarly meeting I heard Diana Eck speak about religious pluralism in America. Her own story is told well in the book Encountering God: From Bozeman to Banares. Reading that book, about the Methodist from Montana who found herself studying in India, encouraged me about the ways Christians might learn from these Hindus. And this city is certainly the place. For many a Christian, it is like being in Rome, or Jerusalem, but the comparisons fail. Christians hold place dear, but they do not see land and water as more sacred in any one location. But for Hindus, Varanasi is the closest to heaven, or salvation, and most importantly, to God, that they can get. And yet for me, being here has been difficult; it is so overpowering, the river and the religion, even while the din of traffic and toil and trash compete. It is like being at the Grand Canyon and not being able to fully experience it, as worries about missing something, and calls for our dollars for souvenirs, and confusion over where to start, and how to find our way on the trails, all cloud the magnificence that is among us and before us. Here at the holiest sight for Hindus, I am lost in the canyons, and yet I am aware how richly blessed I am.

I did get lost today, literally. The walled streets of the old city remind me of house hallways, or old underground passageways, like those in some northern cities between buildings. After a few hours on the ghats, I climbed the stairs up to the streets, only to find myself going in circles, or squares and rectangles, to be clear. The streets are narrow, so much so that when meeting a cow -- which happens often -- you have to squeeze by. After a while, I admitted defeat and asked the first young man who came along how to get a rickshaw; that's one word that communicates when English is not an option. Within minutes I was on my merry way back to the comfort of a simple hotel room. The rickshaw drivers are amazing. They are young and old, and they work very hard, cycling up to 10 kilometers among the worst traffic I have ever seen, and they receive anywhere between 25 cents and about $1.50 for the trip. The photo is one of the drivers I had today.

Walking the Ganges ghats is always an adventure. Today I tried to look for varieties of activities, and the photos picture some of them -- kite flying, clothes washing, bathing, praying, relaxing, boat repairing, and exercising.

I continue to be impressed at the resiliency and simplicity of these people.

slp