Stranded in a dark, unknown street in the middle of Varanasi at three in the morning could be a daunting prospect for some. We were eleven hours later after a hot and dusty bus ride from the border, and wanted only to settle in a cool place for the night. Out of this Indian night came our saviour in the form of Moona, proprietor of the Blue Star Hotel. Yes, he would provide us with the best hotel at the cheapest price, tours around the city, friends in high places, cruise of the Ganges at dawn, and a cup of tea on arrival. Most welcome of all was the fact that he took away our need to think.
Moona became our guide and like it or not we were guided. True to his word at 4 am (thankfully the following day) we were afforded the sights of the awakening Ganges. As he trundled along on his pushbike, we followed on our rickshaw behind. His billowing and multi-coloured headdress put our Western hues to shame.
Through the narrow, cobbled streets we weaved, witnessing the morning ablutions of a thousand hardworn mothers and children always surrounded by the faithful battle-hungry pet. Down at the water, Mother Ganga was waiting.
It was still dark and quiet as the boatman herded us into the boat which floated on the cleansing ripple of the holy river. At the gathering dawn, an orange luminance silhouetted ancient fishing vessels against the growing sun in a tranquil beauty, and the people started coming.
Within a few minutes a quiet, motionless river was transformed into a meeting point for market sellers, religious worshippers, and bathers partaking of the delights of the waters. The modest bathers revelled side-by-side occupying the entire length of the river’s edge.
A more sinister chance of seeing decomposing, half-burnt bodies floating face upwards near the funeral pyre was dispelled by the laughing faces of the children swimming near our boat. The dawn spectacle was over only for us, and as we approached the shore, Moona’s teeth bid us a white and shiny greeting.
He was the perfect host. He showed us the bustling streets of an ancient Benares as well as the modern warehouse of his cousin, the silk merchant, where we bought reams of silks and scarves as well as posing for the obligatory photograph. A new rickshaw was hired and again Moona cycled off, scarf in the wind telling us only that we were heading for the map.
Mahatma Gandhi commissioned a beautiful relief map of India sculpted in marble. It shows the magnificence of the Himalayas to the North in contrast to the low-lying plains of the South. Housed in a hall, the map is huge and occupies one entire room in the building. From below, it is possible to view the lie of the land and see the panoramic skyline that is the Himalayas.
Moona decided his time as our guide had come to an end. We thought perhaps he had to spend more time at the hotel, or that there were more helpless tourists needing his assistance. But slowly we realised that we had not offered him a large enough tip for his services.
Written in 2007
