GRAHAM GUY BARRATT

“The Ganges is Holy” said the swimming instructor from behind me, with devotees travelling from far all over India the waters at Varanasi are considered the holiest. Half submerged in the blackish brown waters of the sacred river, the second most polluted in India and nestled between the electric and wood burning ghats I found the Varanasi Swimming School in the shallows beneath Hanuman Ghat, here the cycle of life goes on as school children are taught to swim in the waters where nearby the bones and ashes of those freshly cremated are scattered into the holy waters. Only bones and ashes are today supposed to be scattered into these waters here and to get rid of body parts the local authorities have bred and introduced snapping turtles into the river that have been taught to consume human flesh and are able to consume in the region of a pound of flesh a day. No worries for the bathers though these turtles have also been taught not to bother swimmers or bathers, how I don’t know but the Varanasi Swimming School seems to be doing a roaring trade with happy customers all around.

Deep in the Chowk east side near the Vishwanath or Golden Temple. In the back streets nature lays it's claim on this city said to have been created by God. Varanasi the ancient city was ancient even before Buddha preached here in 530 BC and is home today to over a million people. When Mark Twain visited over a century ago he commented that "Varanasi is older than history, older than tradition older even than legend and looks twice as old as all of them put together".

Mr. Gopal Rhanna in the Chowk, Varanasi Uttar Pradesh.

The man nods as I step over the entrance passing the stone doors into the tomb of Islam Khan Chisti the Mughal General and the Subahdar Of Bengal who had been laid to rest here after his death in 1613. In life he’d transferred the capital of Bengal to Dhaka and renamed it Jahangirnagar and was so awarded the titular name of Islam Khan by the then Mughal Emperor Jahangir. In silence I am aware of the man at the entrance to the tomb watching me in the dark interior, he watches with stoney face, we are both aware of each others presence, outside the temperature was blistering hot, in here it’s definitely cooler. I walk deeper into the dimly lit tomb and he approaches grasps my arm and leads me further into the dark and as my eyes adjust I catch a smile on his face as he motions to me to pray with him, I sit beside my host and close my eyes as he does and listen to him in total darkness, for the first time in India I feel something genuinely peaceful and totally spiritual, I also feel embarrassed that I didn’t expect it to come from this man. He finishes his words, and I open my eyes, I can see in the dark his face completely against the now high mosaic interior, he motions for me to bow and places my forehead on the cold stone edge of the tomb before us and as I do he places his hand on the back of my head continuing his words until with silence he takes his hand away, I pause and lift myself straight meeting the mullahs eyes, there seems to be a smile between us although no one physically smiles. From the dark we walk together back towards the light, we bow to each other beside the stone door before I once again find myself back in the blistering heat enlightened.

Through the dry heat outside came music from the pink room, three holy men playing tabla, finger bells and keyboard harmonium playing the craziest most spiritual music, genius.

Babu Sain Staes Hair Art
Amber Road, Jaipur Raj opposite the Carpet Mahal

Evening bookshop worker near the Shri Govind Devji Temple.

As the locals have it the eternal fire has been alight above the burning ghats since the very beginning of time or ever since Varanasi and the Crematorium were built in ancient times. And here today as in years gone by the eldest son with shaven head in honour of the deceased lights his reed torch before descending the steps to where the body awaits on the funeral pyre.

Early morning Cricket Match at the Taj Mahal below the East Gate and behind the temple on the banks of the Yumana River. Sunday 28th May.

He hammers replacing wood and seeling up the hull and with a job well done another boat is ready for another year as the dry season ends and the monsoon approaches. The next day as I prepare to leave Varanasi the sky opened and the monsoon had arrived.

U.P. Fine Marble Industry, Eastern Gate Taj Mahal Agra-1, Agra, Uttar Pradesh.

Guru up in the mountains above the Sun Temple, Jaipur, Rajhastan.

At the sun temple, Jaipur, Rajasthan and father and his son bath in the pool of the temple after their early morning worship. Godliness I guess is next to cleanliness.
Galta Monkey Palace and Sun Temple, Jaipur, Rajasthan.

Everybody celebrates as darkness descends and worshippers take their place dancing, singing and embracing each other. I stand and watch but not for long before I'm taken and painted with sandle wood and ochre signed up to their gang in seconds. Within minutes I'm lead to the alter of worship and before I know it drinking a strange green water floating with holy algae and drawn from the Hanuman's very own spring far beneath the temple. Will I be sick or do I trust in God.? That night my trust is rewarded and I wake the next morning fit and feeling decidedly well, "Hail Hanuman The Monkey God".

Dreaming of days gone by on the road, two old timers shade themselves from the morning sun, no motors running and no energy to go anywhere.

Screaching to a halt for the traffic a screaming rickshaw of Hijra draws up along side with it’s screaming contents. We exchange shapes, poses and flirtations and all end up laughing going our separate directions. Hijras or Eunuchs are physiologically males who have feminine gender identity, adopt feminine role and wear women’s clothing. With a long recorded history from antiquity through the Karma Sutra period to the present day Hijra activists and some Western NGO’s are lobbying for official recognition of Hijra as the third sex or gender being neither male nor female.

From below the Taj Mahal one can take a boat across the Yumana with Raja the boatman to the opposite side of the river either to view the Taj or carry on as do the locals on their commute to their place of workers Mr. Mehra the accountant does everyday including most weekends.

Mr. Chunnilal Dusvidi on the left and Mr. Govedezandas on the right at the Galtajiseetazamji Temple, Jaipur Rajhastan.

Rubbish and pollution beneath on the banks on the Taj Mahal. Such beauty blighted by such mindless disregard by the locals for the treasure they have in their midst.

Taraq originally hails from Nischintapur, West Bengal and moved here ten years ago setting up his business soon after he arrived. Now today from the dark, smudgy room his workers continue with their blocks of silver, tweezers and burners to sculpt fine traditional jewellery glinting into life from the shadows.

In the streets behind Manikarnika Ghat Varanasi Uttar Pradesh.

Manikarnika Ghat Varanasi Uttar Pradesh

Here on the main burning ghat bodies are delivered by outcasts known as doms, carried through the winding alleys of the old city to the bank of the holy Ganges on bamboo poles swathed in cloth
The deceased is then mounted upon 350kg of fine dry wood (Sandal-wood which is the most expensive if you happen to be a Brahman) previously weighed on giant scales so that the price of the cremation can be calculated.
Usually the closest male relative usually a son is shaven in preparation as the chosen person to ignite the funeral pyre. Coal is taken from the fire burning since the first cremation at this holiest of holy spot. Equals lengths of reeds are taken and folded at the centre forming a nest like spoon into which a hot coal from the eternal fire is dropped smouldering, the vessel is carried through the dusty corridors and down onto the ashen ghat piled with wood crowned with the deceased body bound in orange.
The carrier then circles the pyre catching the dry kindling casting liquid streams of fire that dance way towards the column of wood and dead human to where the whole burn slowly and then grow into a cracking mass of radiant flame.
As the pile burns the orange cloth turn to black and burn away revealing on close inspection through the burning tangle of timbers the deceased charring corpse, itʼs only then another two or so minutes as the fire takes hold until the firecracker pop as gas within the internal organs are ignited, from here the body will usually burn well. After the corpse has burnt all that remains is the chest bone in men and the hipbones in the women, highlighting in death our burdens in life.
Manikarnika Ghat Varanasi Uttar Pradesh

In the afternoon heat the cooking’s on at the front of a restaurant where open fire hobs with chefs atop burn and steam away cooking fresh vegetarian samosa’s.
Dasawamedh Ghat Road, Varanasi, Utter Pradesh.

Now in the hot season elephants are kept outside of the pink walls of the old city for safety, or is that developers have their eyes on the Mahavaton ka Mohalla the traditional area of the Elephant Owners within the walls.

The computer student looks out from the express train with still 4 hours to go before he arrives at his destination in Bihar to begin his weeklong holiday with his mother and sister. By this time he should have already arrived but this is India and this is the railway, the country’s largest employer with the country’s largest delays.

Taraq originally hails from Nischintapur, West Bengal and moved here ten years ago setting up his business soon after he arrived. Now today from the dark, smudgy room his workers continue with their blocks of silver, tweezers and burners to sculpt fine traditional jewellery glinting into life from the shadows.
At ‘TARAQ JEWELLERS’, Rada Krishana Kimj, House No 1358, in the Old Pink City Jaipur Rajhastan.

Watching over his Buffalo heard as they're scrubbed and washed.
Near Assi Ghat Varanasi Uttar Pradesh.

On the Ghats, Varanasi Uttar Pradesh.

Manikarnika Ghat Varanasi Uttar Pradesh

In the Wood Yard for the crematorium beside the Taj Mahal Agra India.

A husband leaves and his wife waits roadside in the hope of a days work along with a group of other ladies. Central Jaipur, Rajhastan.