c. 2008 Religion News Service

VARANASI, India _ The cremation of a human corpse takes three hours on the banks of the Ganges River.

In a Hindu practice that would shock the sensibilities of most Americans, grieving families from across India bring the bodies of their loved ones to be incinerated on wooden pyres in public view in the holy city of Varanasi.

The ashes and bones, and any remains not consumed by the sacramental heat, are offered to the river, which is almost the color of ash itself. It is the same river best known for its bathers, who seek to cleanse their sins and awaken their spirits in the sacred water.

This is an elemental part of the religious ancestry of Louisiana Gov.-elect Bobby Jindal _ the state’s first Indian-American governor _ and a cornerstone of the Hindu faith embraced by his forefathers. The Ganges, and in particular the religious practices associated with it in Varanasi, offers a portrait of an immense religion little understood in the West.

The ancient city is a theater of human activity that tells the larger story of a Hindu world that is both strange and fascinating to those unfamiliar with it. Varanasi is a long way, and seemingly centuries apart, from Jindal’s Christian, middle-class life in the New Orleans suburbs.

Born from Himalayan glaciers, the Ganga, as it has been known for thousands of years, moves in steady meditation as it bends along the two-mile crescent of the Varanasi ghats, the plazas of steep stone steps that lead down into the river.

People of all ages come to this 3,000-year-old city to bathe, and the old and frail come to die. Many believe that dying in the city leads to moksha, an enlightened state that releases the human soul from otherwise endless episodes of reincarnation.

Day and night, seven days a week, the banyan and sandalwood fires light up the Man Mandir Ghat, a site organized as a factory for Varanasi’s cremations.

The dead are certified as such by police, then carried on bamboo stretchers to the river for a final bath. Silk dressings are removed, and they are left covered with plain cloth _ white for men, red for women. Anointed with incense and a clarified butter, the body is laid on a carefully constructed pile of wood 2 to 4 feet high, and then mounds of more wood are placed on top.

The deceased’s male relatives, dressed in white and with heads shaved for the occasion, assist the cremation supervisors, or doms. Females are forbidden to stand nearby, and tears are said to bring misfortune to dead souls.

The heat, smoke and smell from the pyres collect on one’s clothes and conscience. The endless rising soot has blackened the east face of the ghat’s Hindu temple, which sits high like a dark lord over the scene.

Cremations are rarely for the poor. The required 360 kilograms of wood cost more than $1,400, and so it is not unusual to see bodies simply dumped over the side of a boat into the river, the cheapest method of delivering a corpse to its sanctified destination.

At night, orange-clad Hindu priests, facing the river on stagelike piers, perform a flamboyant choreographed puja ritual with flaming bowls, peacock feathers and brooms. Sweet smells and cacophony fill the air.

Local women and children sell lightweight bowls with candles nested in roses, jasmine and marigolds. Memorials to the dead at 50 rupees apiece, the bowls are ceremoniously launched into the river by the hundreds, forming an iridescent flotilla along the shore.

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The pre-dawn hour the next day is more meditative.

A child oarsman delivers a passenger by boat to the Ganges’ east bank. The sun is still below the horizon, but there is just enough light to awaken the river’s colors.

Once across, it is time for a bath. All street clothes are removed and replaced with a simple broad cloth called a lungi, a traditional Hindu garb for men that covers from the waist down. At first, the water is chilling. But after a moment wading deeper, the blood flow surges through the legs, and the body warms comfortably. The bottom is firm sand. The feet encounter soft, peculiar objects resting on the river bed, an unpleasant sensation.

A bather can escape into the moment, sensing the splash of cool water on the body, mindful of nothing but the Ganges and the human spirit. Arising from the river and turning east to the shore, the bather is greeted by the round orange glory of the breaking sun.

Back on the west bank, Brahmins, or holy men, await the freshly bathed pilgrims. In the final ritual, a Brahmin and pilgrim sit cross-legged facing each other. The priest speaks a mantra and leads a recitation of blessings to the bather’s forefathers. The Brahmin then dips his fingers in a bowl with a mix of sandalwood paste, oils and spices the color of turmeric. He rubs a spot, called a tilak, on the bather’s forehead between the eyes.

The Brahmin expects payment for this service, an act perhaps more mercantile than devout. The money should be placed on the seating platform in front of him, not in his hand.

Strolling the ghats, one can see groups and individual bathers slip into the cool water and then shiver in the light breeze once back ashore. Some bathe with reverence, cupping their hands full with water and pouring it out eastward as an offering to the rising sun. Some lather themselves with soap. Others frolic as if in a swimming pool.

Strangely, the reflections of humans on the water appear to penetrate the surface, forming shadowy moving figures submersed below the bathers. It’s possible to leave Varanasi haunted by the sight of souls bathing in the Ganges.

(Robert Travis Scott writes for The Times-Picayune in New Orleans)

KRE/PH END SCOTT

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Eds: Note time element in 4th graf; Jindal’s inauguration is scheduled for Jan. 14. A version of this story is also being transmitted by Newhouse News Service. See related story, RNS-JINDAL-HINDU, also transmitted Jan. 10.

Photos of Hindu cremations and bathing in the Ganges are available via https://religionnews.com.