Saturday, August 23, 2008
place of birth and death
"why? is this a pilgrimage?", "oh, religious reasons?", "what, bholanath called you huh?" the inevitable refrain whenever anyone hears i'm going to benares. varanasi, kashi, home of shiva, place of moksha, one of the oldest cities on our planet, can't wait to get there. with me, my mother's voice: ha ha ha, i was born in kashi, no mere mortal me; and a saree worn on that 13th day of december fifty years ago when a not easy to forget young woman of 22 and a half married a tall, idealistic man of 29 and a bit whom she'd met just a month ago; shimmering red and gold, six yards of anticipation, dreams, desires, maybe love? now a little weak in its warp and weft. will i find a weaver who will make me one just like that? my little girl might will wear it for her wedding. or plan the way i used to every time ma's wedding saree was mentioned: i'm going to wear your saree on my wedding day. then along came time and its wear. and then some more time. and the usual stuff it brings, birth, naming ceremonies, graduations, first days at work, first meetings, falling in loves, weddings, babies, divorces, death.
and she says in my ears: i was born in kashi.
hmm, got to go there then, especially now, now that we've seen you safely off from another city by the ganga. but naturally, says the thought blurb, those that are born in kashi die next to the ganga, that is how it is.
and so, the benares plans. poor brother sweetly into brotherly duties: corporate rates for hotels, car with reliable driver, a thousand changes to the two- (or three, or 1001)-day plan. and that refrain.
yes, i'm going on a pilgrimage. to the place of my mother's birth, to gaze upon the river she must have set eyes on in her early days, to just be with her, to feel and see benarasis where they are made, those red (ranging from blood to vermilion to flame to wild rose to sedate maroon) benarasis that bengali girls get married in, the fiery one she wore that day and i wore to my friend's wedding almost 24 years later. the same friend who has booked my tickets, whom i haven't met in i don't know how many years, but will be staying with in delhi on my way back. she'd said she'll come with me but couldn't. so had many others, in fact, that was refrain 2: benares? i'll come with you.
but looks like i'll have to go alone. what about my fear of ghosts? taken care of. my cousin has made sure that i got in touch with her friend in benares who assured me that not only is she very familiar with the hotel i'll be staying in, "it's like my home, i've worked there for 8 years", she would also let me, a complete stranger, into her home should i feel too heebiejeebied at night. in the meantime there's been an airport strike in delhi, then floods in kashi. signs. yes, sure signs of pilgrimage.
if that which is wills, i will be there.
let's not think of otherwise.
and just now, a phone call. my chhotomamima from delhi. "hey, so, you going? shall i come with you?" yes. yes. o yes, must tell my aunt in kolkata (the only one who did not offer to accompany me apart from my husband) that i was wrong, now i know that which is is indeed having a conversation with me.
birth, death, love, mukti, waiting for benares.
ps: "benares. where's that?" i also got that. just once. a singaporean artist friend of mine who has just seen pather panchali, his first satyajit ray, is in the meanwhile waiting to go to kashi with apu.
and she says in my ears: i was born in kashi.
hmm, got to go there then, especially now, now that we've seen you safely off from another city by the ganga. but naturally, says the thought blurb, those that are born in kashi die next to the ganga, that is how it is.
and so, the benares plans. poor brother sweetly into brotherly duties: corporate rates for hotels, car with reliable driver, a thousand changes to the two- (or three, or 1001)-day plan. and that refrain.
yes, i'm going on a pilgrimage. to the place of my mother's birth, to gaze upon the river she must have set eyes on in her early days, to just be with her, to feel and see benarasis where they are made, those red (ranging from blood to vermilion to flame to wild rose to sedate maroon) benarasis that bengali girls get married in, the fiery one she wore that day and i wore to my friend's wedding almost 24 years later. the same friend who has booked my tickets, whom i haven't met in i don't know how many years, but will be staying with in delhi on my way back. she'd said she'll come with me but couldn't. so had many others, in fact, that was refrain 2: benares? i'll come with you.
but looks like i'll have to go alone. what about my fear of ghosts? taken care of. my cousin has made sure that i got in touch with her friend in benares who assured me that not only is she very familiar with the hotel i'll be staying in, "it's like my home, i've worked there for 8 years", she would also let me, a complete stranger, into her home should i feel too heebiejeebied at night. in the meantime there's been an airport strike in delhi, then floods in kashi. signs. yes, sure signs of pilgrimage.
if that which is wills, i will be there.
let's not think of otherwise.
and just now, a phone call. my chhotomamima from delhi. "hey, so, you going? shall i come with you?" yes. yes. o yes, must tell my aunt in kolkata (the only one who did not offer to accompany me apart from my husband) that i was wrong, now i know that which is is indeed having a conversation with me.
birth, death, love, mukti, waiting for benares.
ps: "benares. where's that?" i also got that. just once. a singaporean artist friend of mine who has just seen pather panchali, his first satyajit ray, is in the meanwhile waiting to go to kashi with apu.
