The curious case of Christopher King

Varanasi

I tell a small fib sometimes: visiting India has always been a childhood dream of mine. The truth is, visiting India has never really been a childhood dream. The country didn’t cross my mind until sometime in my early twenties.

What I really wanted to do was visit Varanasi, and the reason I wanted to do that was because Brad Pitt’s character in “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” went there. In my favourite sequence of the movie, Benjamin is washing his clothes and shaving on the River Ganga as his daughter Caroline narrates a letter he wrote to her over the top. The sequence is very moving, and ever since seeing it, I’ve wanted to visit Varanasi. I’ve now achieved that goal.

Our flight to Varanasi was delayed by six hours due to fog in Delhi, and I began worrying that our ride wouldn’t be there when we arrived. Our guesthouse was an hour and a half away from our guest house. You can imagine my relief when a sign with my name on it greeted us outside the airport. Not quite Benjamin Button, but close enough.

Varanasi is said to be one of the oldest cities in the world, dating back to 5,000 BC. On the drive it, it certainly feels very intense, and very old, and it’s a noticeable step-up in intensity from the places we’d been previously.

It was dark by the time we arrived, and after settling in to our Guesthouse (located right on the river with some amazing views) we walked along the Ghats beside the river. Naturally, we were soon offered drugs. We declined.

After a while we came across probably one of the most intense scenes in life to date – the burning Ghats. At the Ghats, they literally carry dead bodies down from the city and place them on beds of wood for cremation. By the time we got there, four of five fires were burning, and you can imagine our unease at seeing charcoaled bodies right in front of our eyes, still burning away. For the record, a body on those beds is eventually reduced to a lump of heavily charcoaled meat; not pleasant. The searing heat of the fires, the smoke watering your eyes, the smell of burning bodies – all these things combine to create an unforgettable, if disturbing, experience.

The next day, after a sleep in, we had breakfast, and spent the afternoon walking up and down the Ghats. They are a whirl of activity, with people doing all manner of things. The most popular Ghats is full of tourists and hawkers, and you quickly want to get out of there. Walk further along and you’re amongst normal life again, with people washing clothes, bathing themselves, or just hanging out. As you walk along the Ghats, the view looking back looks really amazing, as all the colours of the buildings on the banks, and the multitude of steps, plus the river flowing beside it, give a psychedelic feel to the place.

This one is called... "Yobin and the cow"

I watched a burning ceremony for about one hour in the afternoon. First the body is washed in the water. Then the wood is stacked up, the body placed in the middle, and then the fire stoked from beneath using straw, cloth, and other kindling type material. The fire smokes heavily at first, and heats up over an hour or so until it becomes an intense furnace capable of cremation. Watching the body heat up at first, then begin to darken, you really can’t do anything but wonder in silence. I have an image locked in my head I don’t think I’ll ever forget – that of flesh melting of a human skull into the fire below. What you see in movies doesn’t even come close. By the time I’d walked further round the Ghats, had lunch, and walked back along the scene, the body has severely reduced into a slab of meat resembling a human chest. All the while, other bodies are washed and prepared for cremation. At any one time there are four of five fires going.

The next day we took a break from the intensity of it and watched New Zealand play India at cricket. We smoked them, thankfully, and enjoyed a day lazing around in the Guesthouse and going out when it suited us.

I took many photos from the rooftop of the Guesthouse. One of them was a lone male being rowed along the river Ganga by an Indian man. An hour or so later, I was flicking through my photos, only to find the guy I coincidentally photograph was sitting right beside us. ‘Mo’ (real name Manuel O) from Switzerland became our instant friend, and continued on the journey to Kolkata with us, and would eventually meet us in Darjeeling. He was, and is a top bloke.

I don’t think Benjamin Button would have stayed in a Guesthouse (but he had to stay somewhere, right?), and I didn’t shed my clothes and clean myself like he did; but then again, he is a character of fiction, and didn’t get to smell burning flesh and see human skin melting off a skull. I don’t know if I’m better for the experience, but I’ve achieved a goal I set myself, and if anything, satisfied my curiosity.

The adventures of John T. Swagger

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