Pilgrimage to Ganga

Our boat driver spits a red streak of chewed betel nut into the murky pre-dawn water, and quickly stuffs another pinch of the mild narcotic between his scarlet-stained lips. Without a word he picks up his oars and gently rows us along India's holy river, the Ganges.

The Ganges flows with the history and religious fervor of thousands of years, and has become one of India's main tirthas, or places of pilgrimage. Hindus believe the river flows from the toe of Vishnu, one of the three Hindu trinity of gods, along with Siva and Brahma. Devout Hindus, who often call the river Mother Ganga, head there every morning to wash away their sins. My traveling partner and I, along with dozens of other tourist boats, do not seem to be disturbing this ancient ritual. We watch Hindu men and women immersing themselves for an early morning bath and dipping toothbrushes into the river for some sunrise dental hygiene. The smacking sound of clothes being beaten against rocks fills the thick India air. While we witness men washing bundles of clothes, an older woman, wrapped up in her sari, is fashioning cow dung into round patties to be dried and, presumably, later used for fuel. Several men along the way seem deep in prayer, reciting words over and over like a mantra as they submerge themselves in the holy water. I had heard about river dolphins in the Ganges and am convinced I see one rise up briefly from the thick water.

As much as the Ganges is the river of life for Hindus, it is also the river of death. Hindus believe that the souls of those who die and are cremated on the Ganges will have a quicker path to moksha, or spiritual salvation. Animals and children, however, are sometimes simply buried in the Ganges and not cremated. We see one calf's head float by along or ride, at first unnerving, but the forces of life using this river outweigh the brush with death.

The tranquility of this river journey is interrupted when a man on another boat pulls up alongside us and hands us small tin plates lined with flowers and a small burning candle at the center. "Think your name, make a wish, and let go in water," he instructs us demonstrating how it should set sail on the river. "Wish will come true." We nudge him away but after much persistence, we finally oblige, only to realize there is a heavy service charge for these wishes. We refuse to pay but he blocks our boat from moving, demanding his money. We give him far less than the asking price and he continues to pester us until he finally tires and heads to the next tourist boat.

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