THE WHOLE IS TOO BIG TO CONTROL

"When in India, just surrender". Well, thanks for the reminder. Surrender.
Who to trust as everyone from the tiny kids selling flowers to float down the
Ganges, to the little shops selling matches and soap, to the man who rows the boat, the driver who drives the car, the man who drives the man who drives the boat and the car, to the hotel managers and so on and on it goes like the river itself. Everyone is stripping nd tricking everyone. One could be stripped bare of everything for sure. And that is where the problem lies. One does not WANT to be stripped. One loves holding on to one's self image, one's belongings, one's money, ones's dignity.
The early morning boat ride was interesting - the life at the waters edge brings one to a reality rarely experienced - the filthy edges of the Ganga here in Varanasi are trusted and treated as pristine and holy Mother's Love. Everyone sinks beneath the surface and worships the waters; prayers with heartfelt cravings being offered to Her. The dead bodies burn along the ghats and the buildings have watched as millions have lived, died and burned. They stand blackened by the funeral pyre smoke.
Life goes on in a wonderful tumultuous way, with people, animals and birds all involved in the early morning ritual of prayer. Yogis yoga, monks monk, birds sing, people chatter, cows sway on their way, and dogs scrounge amongst the rubble piled up. The washermen and women slap the clothes on rocks while they stand waist deep in the water. Then they spread the clothes out on the banks to dry. This is the washing service provided by the hotels in the area of the ghats. Incredibly all clothes come back clean, ironed and folded.
The buildings are ancient like this city. Maharajas have gone, but the buildings are still here. Some only have birds and monkeys for inhabitants, with an occasional goat checking out the possiblity of something to eat.
I have a long way to go before I can immerse myself in the waters here. The Ganga in Rishikesh is a brilliant emerald colour, fast flowing and very cold as it has come directly from the Himalaya. Downstream Varanasi has seen a lot of life, and is showing serious signs of pollution. Even so people fill containers for drinking, and wash themselves in delight each morning. So who am I to judge?
I come from a very different culture where we are still unable to deal with a blackout or a shortage of anykind. Here blackouts happen every day for a few hours at a time. Just part of life. Accept. No ego. The Whole is too big to control.
Tomorrow I will depart Varanasi and go by train to Agra and bow to the Taj Mahal.