No matter what you call
it - Kashi, Banaras, or Varanasi - it is probably the oldest and most exciting
city in the world. Legend says that Kashi, "the City of Light," was
the first of all cities, built by the first king, in a forest carpeted with
sacred kusha grass. Before the days of Babylon, Solomon's Temple, or the
glories of Nebuchadnezzar, Kashi was already a thriving religious and
commercial center. Long before Christ it was mentioned in the Buddhist jatakas
as a center of civilization. The Mahabharat traces the name Varanasi
to the fact that the city lies on the banks of the Ganga between the rivulets
Varana in the north and Asi in the south. It was the Muslims who coined the name
Banaras, and the British adopted it when they came.
Nowadays one and a
quarter million people throng these narrow streets. At times of major
pilgrimage, this population increases fivefold. All the color, sights, tastes,
and smells of India are concentrated here-and all her seeming contradictions.
Banaras is the quintessence of Hinduism. The place i quite a test for the
Westerner, because it picks him up by the scruff of the cultural neck and
shakes him hard. All expectations and priorities are challenged; nowhere else
is India o radically different from what he is used to. For some, death
disguised, and religion little more than a comfortable justification of
corporate business life, Banaras may be too powerful. It is not for the
fainthearted.
Getting nudged out of the
way by a sacred cow may be just tolerable, but seeing a corpse crackle as it is
devoured by the hungry flames can be too much reality to take. The impact of
the place is overwhelming. Whether you love or loathe the city, you cannot
remain indifferent. Once you have been to Banaras, your life will never be the
same again.
Kashi is the holiest
place on earth for the Hindu : his principal goal of pilgrimage and where he
hopes to die. Lord Shiva himself is believed to live here, and the entire city,
with its two thousand temples, is dedicated to him. Kashi is the city of
knowledge. In the microcosm Kashi is the summit of the head, where knowledge
resides and the thousand-petaled lotus of enlightenment flowers. Kashi is the
navel of the world. Kashi is what it is because of where it is: on the banks of
the great' goddess Ganga. This flat, calm stretch of water that seems to go on
forever is the artery through which the life blood of Hinduism flows. Starting
as a crystal-clear rivulet at the "Cow's Mouth" of Gangotri among the
Himalayan peaks, she widens and lengthens, twisting her 1,250 miles (2,000
kilometers) through the parched plains of Uttar Pradesh, on through arid Bihar,
then the lush green backwaters of Bengal, finally to explode in the profusion
of rivulets that empty joyously into the Bay of Bengal.
As she winds, she
sanctifies site after site: Rishikesh, Allahabad, Hardwar. Ganga Mata -
"Mother Ganga" - is the Hindu's link to the Himalayan vastness, where
only the saints and the gods can dwell. She is the bringer of life and the
comforter of ills. The Hindu gods migrated to her banks because they were
already holy, and to the Indian her journey is the symbol of man's own winding
way through life. But the goddess is fickle. Every so often, displeased with
the persistent folly of men, she bursts her banks and wreaks havoc on great and
small alike. The ancient part of Kashi has been engulfed many times by her
great waters. Yet the Ganga gives Kashi a sign that the city is especially
favored, for here the mighty river turns north and flows back toward her
Himalayan home. What clearer indication could there be that Kashi is unique?
Once in the city all human limits are left behind. The place is paradise on
earth. The moment you arrive, your past sins are absolved. To die here is to be
assured of not just a place in heaven, nor even a favorable rebirth, but total
liberation from the eternal round of birth and death (samsara). Such is the
power of Kashi for those who believe.
This divine preeminence
has not spared Banaras a turbulent history. The city remained under Hindu rule
until the twelfth century, when, as the religious capital of the north, it
suffered badly at the hands of Islam. First the Pathan kings came across from
their capital at Delhi to loot and plunder. Qutbuddin Aibak's forces were said
to have destroyed a thousand temples here in 1194. Then the Mughals arrived.
Shah Jahan, builder of the Taj Mahal, had seventy-six temples destroyed, and
his son Aurangzeb continued the reign of persecution and bigotry. He reimposed
the jazia, a special tax levied on non-Muslims by their Mughal overlords,
destroyed temples, and did what he could to abolish or impoverish Hindu cultural
institutions. He even forbade music at his court because it was idolatrous and
seduced the people from their true end of contemplating Allah. In 1659 the holy
temple Krittivasa was pulled down on the emperor's orders. The year 1669 was
even blacker for Banaras: Two of its most sacred shrines, the Vishnu Temple of
Bindu Madhava and the Kashi Vishwanath Temple were destroyed, and
mosques were built in their place. The Alamgir Mosque, which dominates the
northern skyline of the waterfront, stands on the site of the Temple of Bindu
Madhava. Aurangzeb even changed the name of the city to Muhammadabad and set up
the royal mint there to issue coins bearing the new name. Banaras has more
reasons than most places to remember the fanatical Mughal.
Brought to its knees many
times, Banaras continued to rise again. With characteristically Indian
patience, the city incorporated each new element thrust upon it by the latest
invaders. And her misfortunes increased her sanctity for nothing drives man
into the arms of God as swiftly as suffering. There is something here so
essential to India that it could never be destroyed, no matter how often the
temple were pillaged. Whatever may change on the surface, Kashi goes on All
human life is here, and as long as one Hindu remains alive, Banaras will
continue to exist.
Banaras has always been
the center of Sanskrit learning in northern India. The oldest of the
Indo-European languages, Sanskrit was originally spoken by the Aryan invaders
of Vedic times. It is the classical language of India. Like Latin in medieval
Europe, it is a language of learning and religious ritual. All the most
important texts of Indian lore remain in Sanskrit, so a knowledge of the
language is important for a deeper understanding of the culture. Banaras, being
the religious capital of the north, maintained a healthy tradition of Sanskrit
learning long after understanding had degenerated elsewhere. Since the twelfth
century this knowledge has been increasingly the preserve of the priests, a
small but powerful elite. In recent times the vitality of the tradition has
been helped by migrations of brahmin sanskritists from the Hindu strongholds in
Maharashtra and the south. So even today there are about forty Sanskrit schools
and colleges in Banaras with over two thousand sanskritists. The best known of
these is Banaras Sanskrit University where there is a remarkable collection of
150,000 rare manuscripts.
The traditional means of
teaching this knowledge is the institution of the pundit. He is the ultimate
authority on textual and ritual matters; any dispute will be settled by his
verdict. These pundits teach in the time-honored guru-disciple relationship.
There are perhaps fifteen hundred of them, each having a maximum of twelve
disciples. For the most part the pundits live and breathe in an atmosphere of
the Middle Ages. They speak Sanskrit, some even scorning its derivatives such
as modern Hindi. They often delight in being out of step with the changes
taking place around them. Nowadays only astrology and Ayurveda - the indigenous
Indian system of medicine - can provide a pundit with a comfortable living.
However, pundits are devoted to maintaining even the most obscure branches of Sanskrit
learning, despite a growing lack of interest in these traditional customs and
values among the young. As custodians of a heritage they feel is the only
bulwark against the complete collapse of society, they are keen to preserve the
brahmin conservatism for which Banaras is famous.
The old city stretches
from the area around the main square - the Chowk - down to the river. It is a
labyrinth of unmarked lanes and alleys, wide enough only for pedestrians and
animals. You cannot even navigate by the sun; the walls are too high. The
winding alleys twist and turn into ever more mysterious darkness. There is a
bustling activity; the place reeks of intrigue as cows and goats jostle with
pilgrims, merchants, and wild-eyed ascetics. The temples themselves are often
dark and forbidding; many of them officially closed to non-Hindus.
Another specialty here is
bhang, a decoction of hashish. The galis are full of little booths selling this
in various forms. You can drink bhang lassi, a yoghurt drink laced with the stuff;
eat bhang kulfi, cones of ice cream; or wade your way through various doctored
pastries and sweetmeats. The availability of bhang perhaps partly accounts for
Banaras's popularity among young overseas travelers; it may also help explain
the Banaras character. For natives of the city are known throughout Asia as a
law unto themselves - carefree, perhaps a little crazy, and always with a sense
of humor renowned and uninhibited. The Banarsi exhibits a love of good living
and culture that is positively infectious; the city throbs with what the locals
call masti - an exuberant joie de vivre.
Courtesy-www.allaboutbharat.org
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