Stepping on to the ghats of Varanasi for the first time, I arrived in a land of chaos: Fervent Pilgrims jostling with tourists eager to move to the next wow-inspiring scene, vendors selling sacred beads and sugar coated candies, mendicants offering divine favours in exchange for a few coins. All enveloped in a heavy cloud of dust from the Ganges.
But get behind that disorder and disarray and I you arrive at the Absolutus, the point where you are set free. The space where the dust clouds lift, the polluted waters clarify. It is the space between the extremes the Buddha preached for the first time nearby at the Deer Park by the Hill of the Fallen Sages many centuries ago after attaining enlightenment.
To me, this did not turn on like an instant switch. In fact, I understood only once I got back to the quiet confines of my studio. I was able to abstract myself from the chaos to realise what this city represents – a desire of the masses to find meaning.
Mark Twain refering to Varanasi after a visit in 1896 said: “(it) is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend and looks twice as old as all of them put together.”
Over a century later, Varanasi continues to captivate and haunt visitors even as it morphs with time. Between the ultimate extremes of life and death, the artery of Varanasi – that holy river, the Ganges, absolves the sins of the living and accepts her dead, settting both free.
In these scenes that recur day in and day out, we see the paradox of life.