Hey
The Ganga
Yesterday we took a boat ride on the Ganges, or Ganga as they call it here. We arose at 5:30 a.m. to catch the sun rise over the river. It was worth getting up early to see the giant red ball suspended in the sky, defying gravity.
Along the Ganga, there's a 7 km stretch of ghats, or steps, which rise from it's banks. Every day, 60,000 people come to the ghats for a spiritual bath in the septic waters of the river -- the water is heavily polluted and full of fecal bacteria, with 30 sewars pumping into it. In addition to the sewage and piles of garbage strewn along the river bank, there are also human remains in the Ganga.
Bodies are cremated at several 'burning ghats' -- the ash dumped into the river. Animals, pregnant women, holy men, children, people with leprosy or smallpox, and people who have died from snake bites don't get cremated -- they just get dumped into the middle of the river. It's not unusual to see a dead body bobbing along with the current. Luckily, we didn't see anything but a dead pig float by our boat.
As we rowed down the river, I felt like a voyeur, watching people celebrate their faith by 'cleansing' their bodies and souls in the defiled Ganga water. It is beyond comprehension -- not only that people submerge themselves in water of their waste and their dead, but also that people who hold something so holy would contaminate it with pollutants.
In addition to spiritual cleansing, the river is used as a giant washing machine. The 'dobi wallahs' (the Indian name for the wash people) do laundry on the steps of the ghats, thrashing the clothing about, literally beating them clean. The river is also used as a giant bath tub. People sit upon the steps with a bar of soap and lather up, rinsing off in the water. They also brush their teeth here, using their finger instead of a tooth brush. I might have seen one man using the river mud as tooth paste, but I'm not sure... I can say with some certainty that no tooth paste company I can think of would make a paste of brown.
Despite the picture I have thus painted, the trip down the Ganga was quite peaceful and scenic. There was music in the air -- flutes, bells, and Hindi songs sung by women with high pitched voices (or maybe it's one woman who sings all the songs -- it always sounds like the same voice to me). Ancient looking buildings, 10 shades of brown, monkeys scampering upon embellished rooftops, hot pink, red, copper and silver vessels, the gentle vibration of water on the boat, the rhythmic dip of the boatman's oar, the laughter of children, the hum of salvation.
Along the Ganga, there's a 7 km stretch of ghats, or steps, which rise from it's banks. Every day, 60,000 people come to the ghats for a spiritual bath in the septic waters of the river -- the water is heavily polluted and full of fecal bacteria, with 30 sewars pumping into it. In addition to the sewage and piles of garbage strewn along the river bank, there are also human remains in the Ganga.
Bodies are cremated at several 'burning ghats' -- the ash dumped into the river. Animals, pregnant women, holy men, children, people with leprosy or smallpox, and people who have died from snake bites don't get cremated -- they just get dumped into the middle of the river. It's not unusual to see a dead body bobbing along with the current. Luckily, we didn't see anything but a dead pig float by our boat.
As we rowed down the river, I felt like a voyeur, watching people celebrate their faith by 'cleansing' their bodies and souls in the defiled Ganga water. It is beyond comprehension -- not only that people submerge themselves in water of their waste and their dead, but also that people who hold something so holy would contaminate it with pollutants.
In addition to spiritual cleansing, the river is used as a giant washing machine. The 'dobi wallahs' (the Indian name for the wash people) do laundry on the steps of the ghats, thrashing the clothing about, literally beating them clean. The river is also used as a giant bath tub. People sit upon the steps with a bar of soap and lather up, rinsing off in the water. They also brush their teeth here, using their finger instead of a tooth brush. I might have seen one man using the river mud as tooth paste, but I'm not sure... I can say with some certainty that no tooth paste company I can think of would make a paste of brown.
Despite the picture I have thus painted, the trip down the Ganga was quite peaceful and scenic. There was music in the air -- flutes, bells, and Hindi songs sung by women with high pitched voices (or maybe it's one woman who sings all the songs -- it always sounds like the same voice to me). Ancient looking buildings, 10 shades of brown, monkeys scampering upon embellished rooftops, hot pink, red, copper and silver vessels, the gentle vibration of water on the boat, the rhythmic dip of the boatman's oar, the laughter of children, the hum of salvation.
posted by Cheryn at 4:38 PM
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