Anna: Sense stimulation  – What do I see on our first day in Varanasi?

I spy with my little eye… too much to comprehend! From the moment we landed in Varanasi, we were met with difference in vision from the all too familiar surroundings of the Saadiyat bubble.

The initial thing that catalyzed the realization of having left the comfort of our bubble behind was the vision that awaited us upon exiting the plane; a black cloud of smog hanging in the air with an even more unpleasant smell accompanying it. In the not so far distance from the landing strip were houses – or rather huts I should describe it as for you to conjure up more accurate mental images. It was a slum. I was overwhelmed to be met with such so close to where the plane had landed, but I guess with a population of 1.2 billion space optimization is crucial.

It only got more crowded and mind-blowing as we headed towards the city center on rickshaws. This activity seemed to be intriguing my peers as well.

It was a special feeling observing all this passing by as we rode down the bumpy roads and alleyways of the intricate streets of Varanasi. I felt so exposed to my surroundings yet protected by the confines of the transportation I was on. The times where a motorcycle or tuctuc would come a little too close my heart would skip a beat and I would become acutely aware of my environment.

The sensory bombardment stepped up a notch when we later headed out on foot. Now we were truly immersed in our surroundings, for the better or worse.

The traffic also became more real. Hectic is not an adjective that suffices to describe the traffic scene, especially not in the roundabouts. It stemmed there were no particular traffic rules, at least not any that were being obeyed. But surely they were avid users of horn bobbing and hand gestures to communicate with each other.

Multiple times I thought I was witnessing a miracle when two tuctucs nearly collided but didn’t, and the time where a motorbike was approaching me at high speed and I had the vision of being run down, and only nearly was.

I think the drivers and pedestrians alike have developed or severely sharpened their capacity to block out certain stimuli and merely focus on not running into anyone. Luckily I did not have to maintain this alertness but admired our guide who did it for us. I was on the other hand mesmerized by the diversity of what I saw around me. The markets with colorful fruits and saris, small shrines, colonial buildings, maze like alleyways, food and more food. Street food vendors were ubiquitous. I enjoyed watching the locals’ interaction and these food stalls seemed to be an ideal place for this.

It is a buzzing place of liveliness (despite the wide held misconception that it’s a city where people come to die.. more to be read about this in another chapter of this book). You’ll find everything from curious tourists like myself to businessmen and beggars, monks and street food vendors and an abundance of cows and dogs dispersed amongst all of this in the most inconvenient places.. All of this life living side by side in a relatively small space.

I could describe it as all forms of life coming together in such a harmoniously unharmonious way. That is to say, everything seemed so chaotic yet at the same time like it belonged. I was fascinated by the men in yellow robes often with a white painted face and barefoot wandering through the streets, the ascetics. I thought to myself that this must be the ultimate test of enlightenment, maintaining a balanced state of mind in this environment which I perceived as the antithesis of a stereotypical ashram with its tranquility and nature.

Less pleasant were the countless men who used the sides of the street as toilets. Later I saw a man washing himself in the street poodles and got shivers down my spine from disgust, but this emotion was quickly replaced by an empathy. I vaguely smiled at the bathing man and it was reciprocated with what I interpreted as an even more sincere smile.

Especially one sight will be ingrained in my memory for a long time to come, this was the amount of beggars and homeless people.

I expected to see this, but nothing can prepare one for the desperation and disparity in the eyes of fellow human beings. In particular I was shocked by how many children were left to the street to beg for money or food.

It is tempting to talk about the gilt and immense rush of anger I felt in these moments towards myself and the world. This is not productive, neither for you nor me. Instead I hope by bringing this up, for us both, becomes food for thought that will perhaps bring fruitful reflection about the role of chance in the world and just maybe will cause us to take a tiny bit more of the responsibility I believe comes with privilege. And privileged we certainly are, some of the most privileged if you find yourself having access to and reading this!

I was captivated and struck by virtually everything I saw and often could not believe my eyes, it was like seeing many things for the first time. Admittedly it was surprisingly few glares and stares I perceived from my surroundings. Seemingly, I was not met with the same scrutinization and investigation that people in my vision were subject to. Rather, the majority seemed so caught up in their daily business. The “exoticness” that intrigued me about this difference was not immediately mutual. This could be explained partially by the fact that Varanasi is a tourist hub. (This no longer held true on our second during the village visit, read more in another chapter).

Not in my wildest imagination could I have envisioned what I saw in Varanasi. It was an emotional roller coaster, every step, walking through the city of lights. Much of what can be seen is found in other places as well but I think what sets this place apart (I am yet to find out if this goes for all of India) is that it’s extremes are found here, and they are not hidden. So much love and sadness for this place. Truly it is a land where life in all its forms are found and where contrasts, the beautiful and ugly, are exposed.

Ophelia: Auditory Overload

We just arrived in Varanasi. Spirits are high, sounds are loud. Even sitting on the bus does not help create silence because there is no silence. There is only loud or less loud. The windows act not as a barrier, but as diffusion of sound. Even though the sound is not as loud, the colors and images are still eye-opening.

We are on the street. There are hundreds of people surrounding us. Every single one of them has a place to go, whether on foot, by car, tuk-tuk, or riksha. The streets are convoluted with transportation possibilities. There are street sellers, mostly selling food. We walk together, as safely as possible, to reach our next destination.

We are in the alleyway. There are sari shops all around. Inside, people are opening plastic bags filled with saris, modeling them and throwing them onto the ground. People are everywhere. No matter where you go, you cannot escape the sounds. Others sell small electric toy boats, jewelry, and other trinkets to tourists.

We are on the Ganges river. On the one side, there is the crematorium, burning bodies to ashes. On the other side, there is a ritual of singing Mother Ganges to sleep is occurring. The guide explains the history of the crematorium, the existence of the eternal fire, the tradition that has persisted for centuries. The boat is starting, we move onto the river to see the ritual more closely, while on the other side the lullaby for Mother Ganges continues.

We are on the other side of the river. From death, we move to a celebration of life, specifically the source of life: Mother Ganges. Boats are shoved together and flower sellers move swiftly from one to the other. The ceremony begins when the conch is played and it ends when the conch is played. The chanting continues as Mother Ganges slowly lays her head to rest.

Najla:  what did I feel on my first day in Varanasi?what did I smell on my first day in Varanasi?

Before visiting Varanasi, I started to imagine how Varanasi looks and what exists there. After imagining, I searched up on google “Varanasi” and the first thing that showed up was the Ganges River and the temples. Based on my research and readings, I found out that Varanasi considers being a very significant place for Buddhas. I was really impressed by how Varanasi is the spiritual capital of India. As soon as I arrived in Varanasi, I was shocked and surprised, and my inner self started to complain about the sound of horns, the distracted and organized streets, and etc. However, it was really nice to get out of my own bubble. I had these mixed feelings of being sad, happy, confused, mad, and etc. This trip changed so many things in my personality, habits, and perspectives. First, it is my first time to travel alone and I expected that I will cry and be in bad mood. Luckily, I did not, and I was so social and engaged with the group. I am proud of myself because I confronted the challenges of this trip alone without my relatives’ help. I managed to carry all of my luggage without anyone’s help. This might sound nothing for you but it sounds a big deal for me. This trip made me get used to the flow of life. Plus, it taught me how to respond quickly to any confrontation I face, without thinking deeply on how to respond. This trip changed many definitions I had in my dictionary. Before visiting Varanasi, I define the term “poor” as of less money. However, after visiting Varanasi, the term “poor” changed a lot, it got deeper. After visiting, I have to define poor as not just having less or no money, it is also about not having shelter, family, happiness, and peace.
Moreover, what was really surprising and interesting was observing the lives of people from another country. The term “normal life” changed in a certain aspect. I was surprised by how this consider being a “normal life” to them. I really enjoyed viewing the “normal life” of other people’s life. From my perspectives, “normal life” is to live in a place where there are traffic lights that helps in setting the organized flow between cars. In Varanasi, what impressed me is that people in the area managed to create the flow in the roads without the reliance on traffic lights. Even for me, I started to realize that I am having strong eye coordination. I am being honest I was so focused and concentrated when walking or riding the Rickshaw. I started to analyze and view every single thing. I felt that I am having a great connection between objects and people around me. I am not just looking straight ahead. I was looking at my left, right, back, and front. I felt that I am feeling everything. Sometimes, I had these thoughtful and deep observations on things around me. By doing so, my inner self puts me in an imagination field where I imagine myself in the shoes of people of Varanasi. I had these fear and melancholic feelings. I started to have an inner conversation with my inner self about how I will respond to this type of life, how I will perform in this life, and etc.

Moreover, one thing that really brought my attention and senses was the different scents that I smelt as we were walking down the alleys. The sense of smell was a tool that forms the background of the place. Through the different smells, I get to realize what could exist down in the alley. For example, one of the smells that were really strong was the smell of the incense in the alley. This smell helped me in deducing that people in this alley follow the religious and cultural rituals. Basically, the smell considers being a very big element in Varanasi because there were different smells everywhere. Varanasi has no place with no smell. The sense of smell was the detector that helps me in first realizing what is around me; it is what attracts me to explore and look around.

Katrin: Overwhelmed senses

Feeling caught off guard by the variety and intesity of smells when stepping into the city would be the least to say.

Taping into the swirl of sweet, sour and acute odours was an experience I found myself quite unprepaired for. No matter how strong you  think your stomach  might be, there is always a chance to be caught by surprise while breathing in the air as you make your way through the city of endless traffic and constant emanations. Making sense of scents was a challenging process that required a lot of mental energy and stamina so as to get used to them and understand how they contribute to, and make the ambience of the city itself. At some point, breathing became a hardship on its own – the intensity of each odour was so high and hard to go unnoticed by a sensitive nose such as mine that it resulted in the need to stay in a closed space for a while so as to process everything experienced earlier outside. On the other hand, such experience definetely keeps you engaged and alert, but also overstimulated and overwhelmed which can be draining and exhausting as time goes on. Figuring out how one can deal with the variety and richness of impressions gained through each and every sense takes a while, but what’s crucial to be mentioned is how enriching, expanding and enuring it actually is for a person born and raised far from this specific culture with its own heritage and history.

A response to this overall experience of being exposed to all different kinds of sensatory stimulations, smells in particular, is hardly ever a mild one or even completely absent from one’s consciousness. It is a realization, acceptance and understanding of the richness existing in the world so abstract and yet so tangible that can only leave you fascinated and wondering what more is there to be experienced through the senses.

Stalina:

What do I see and feel? Is everything real?
Reality, which does not coincide with my way of living or a cultural shock in a new, different world.

We get out of the bus, hm, weird.. If we are not at the hotel, what transportation are we using next? Where are they taking my bag? I am seated in a small open car, very similar to a children one. Professor and Najla are placing themselves next to me. I feel like it is funny, I do not realize why are we sitting here and how are we planning to reach the destination. What? Are we driving this childish car? I am so exited, can’t wait to start. And here we go, the vehicle is getting faster, we are trying to hold our bags. It becomes a real adventure! The wind is literally pushing us out of the «rickshaw», this is how this vehicle is called (I discover later). My inner child is happy. It reminds me how many years ago my dad was throwing me up very high, caught and threw again and my mom was so angry because ‘this is dangerous’ but I was extremely excited. Exactly, this is what it is about: adrenalin, excitement, fear and danger. The streets are full of people: walking, running, screaming, driving the same rickshaws we are and oh my god, beeping interminably every second. There are no sidewalks either traffic lights, the only task is to move forward, cross the road, no matter which way a one chooses. What? I see animals right there! Cows, goats, donkeys are chilling out on the road without any reaction to the rush of the town.

We are on the street. I can not get used to the rush. People are moving right into me, it is easy to get lost, every step is a struggle and everyone is moving extremely fast. I am holding my luggage because I am scared they could be gone any moment. At the same time I am ready to explore everything around me. People fascinate me. They are so different from the ones I see every day! They look like the movie characters, mostly having the traditional Indian costumes on. Women are wearing beautiful dresses, bright accessories and often having specific make up! Men are extremely interesting and unusual. I would draw a portrait or sculpt a bust of a typical Indian man with every single wrinkle and detail. The faces are different – sometimes happy, full of joy and energy. Others are mysterious, expressing the deepness of mind and sadness. Interesting.

I am surprised by how varied the activities are. I cannot focus on one picture – the merchants, proposing souvenirs on the streets, the man constantly preparing tea in the old, beautiful crockery, colors, scents, sounds. I go forward through the narrow street, which is overfull with moving people, kiosks and garbage. I notice a barbershop in an open space, which is absolutely different from modern gorgeous ones.  I did not realize before that in order to have a hair cut done a space should not necessarily be fancy. We peep into one of the doors on the street: a green carpet, a few chairs and low lights – “it is a wedding ceremony”, explains us the guid. People are celebrating. Everything can be this simple. I want to stop and observe for a while, but we are having a walking tour and I am only trying to make a good shot with my camera. I am glad that many people have proper workplaces and feel good but I am really sad of beggars suffering on the streets. I love the beautiful women posing to my camera and feel sorry for the conditions they have to live in. Such a contrast between ‘black and white’ sides of this colorful world contradicts with my feelings and emotions. There are lot of impressions left from India, but the most powerful and influential for me is the sediment of realization: people who have nothing material are rich spiritually, happy and joyful.