It is not about
nationality or religion. There are certain icons embedded in one's subconscience; however one may try to raise
oneself out of the confines of the country and belief system that one
was born into, however universal one is, the spiritual umbilical cord
with your nativity cannot be cut. Icons such as Ganga, Himalayas, Kasi, Bharatapuzha, etc, are so ingrained in me; I find great solace in them. I consider myself an Indian just because I have been fortunate to be born in this land. If I consider myself a Hindu ( which I don't, in the religious sense) it is only because of the historical and spiritual baggage that I carry as an Indian; anytime better than an American or British baggage!
Below is an unpublished
poem I wrote long ago. I was in Varanasi, with my mother's ashes. I
was not there due to religious reasons; I had never before visited
this place and my mother's death was an excuse. During my 4 or 5
days stay in Varanasi, I wandered around the city, watched bodies
being cremated, visited BHU and the Palace across the Ganges.
Despite its filth and
crowds and ugliness, Benaras/Kasi/Varanasi left an indelible
impression in my mind. I wouldn't mind visiting it again; I would
love to sit on the banks of Ganges on a full moon night, alone.
To Kasi, With Thanks
Kasi/
Benaras/Varanasi. The ancient, holy city in India. Since ages, Kasi
has been the final resting place en route heaven – or hell.
Amidst the
filth, fury of the heat,
Amidst the
chaos of men and machines
Amidst the
riot of raggedly people
Amidst the
stench of putrefying land.
What do I
take from thee, Kasi?
For my wife,
a couple of sarees
For my son,
a couple of Kurtas
For my
friend, an antique in bronze
For me? Just
you in my heart.
Who are you,
Kasi, are you the one
Languishing
by the river? Or
Benaras, of
the dilapidated palace?
Or Varanasi,
the leprous one?
Kasi, why
did you let it slide
Into this
vortex of Hell?
You could’ve
let it be
Your ancient
soul and shadows.
For, if it
were you, Kasi
I’d have
strolled in your narrow galies,
Savouring
the shade and smell of dung
Touching the
cool stones with my heart.
If it were
you, Kasi
I’d have
swum in the Ganges
Touched the
drop that long ago
I let flow
at Vasudhara1
Falls.
If it were
you, Kasi
I’d have
met all those who left
Who walked
away from my home afar
To
you, to never return.
If only it
were you, Kasi!
I’d have
walked with all those
Who still
run in my blood.
For you,
Kasi, is what I am, what I were
What my son
would be.
*************************
Varanasi
27/10/2004
- A waterfall near Badrinath, high in the Himalayas.
Courtesy mbjesq
Though I have not been there, writings and word of mouth from people such as you have given a tantalising glimpse of the place.
ReplyDeletePerhaps there must be only one reason for Kasi to be as she is. To magnify the fickleness of life and conceit of man.
And I guess that may be a possible answer to your ask.
As human beings we are a sum total of the realisations we accumulate as we go through life, realisations that our ties with the land bring us face to face with.
ReplyDeleteIndia is a geography of the mind in as much as it is a geography of a terrain.
Varanasi is magical. It forces one to face up with oneself in ways many other places do not.
Kind of heating up thoughts here.
ReplyDeleteOf all those feelings you unwrapped there,remarkable is the one where your longing to be the ONE you really are and WANT TO BE the original at least there with Kasi.It seems Balachandran,however we enjoy the life in earth and experience the survival thereof, the unseen slavery is what we want to get rid of.
After all the thrill of a belief or such a place is what we can take it from..The way you extract it for you !
I have not been there but I have heard a lot. Maybe the place stays to remind us of our temporary being. To reflect the reality of life.
ReplyDeleteWhich happened to me behind the Pashupathinath temple; by the Bhagmati river; where they were people nearing death were left to die there; where bodies burned on pyres...