It was a holiday plan. We decided to travel to Varanasi. My wife often desired to go there. We also clubbed the visit to Ayodhya. My father is an ardent reader of Ramayana, so we didn’t want to miss that either. We had to plan thoroughly to avoid any inconvenience to my parents. I did a bit google of the places. Of course Ram Lalla and Viswanthji were automatic on the agenda. We were tentative of Sarnath.
Mugal Sarai is where we did not have clues about where to stay. The itinerary included this place not by choice, we had to change the train and therefore wait for about 6 hours. We were apprehensive, for no information about the place was on the web. However it was interesting to learn that the name meant Mughaul’s inn. Mughuls developed this place as a hub, perhaps to change their horses, when they traveled east from Delhi. Later the Railways also converted the place as a freight hub. It has very large railway yards, but a disproportionately small rail station. We managed to get an air conditioned retiring room. They were only two of them and one was occupied. We lodged our parents in comfort and moved out to explore. I said to my son that Uttar Pradesh is a great place for eatery and chats. We tried a few things on the street side, though it was un-kept and dirty. My son was surely disappointed. Only to keep the spirits high, I told him that real stuff will be at Varanasi. In India when one admires a thing, it usually takes a little effort to discover that by others.
We reached Faizabad in the early morning. We were told to go to Faizabad, next to Ayodhya, for it offered better accommodation and hotels. After getting into a hotel and finishing the breakfast we went to Ayodhya. Ram Lalla was the first point. This is a high security place where one goes through an intertwined passage. This happens to be one of those great Hindu Muslim flash points in history. In India there is no point in wasting ones intellect to understand why Hindus and Muslims clash. It is better to believe that some times this happens. After we walked through and passed by the Ram Lallaji, my father did not realize and queried where the mandir was? We went back to show him the place again. There are little conveniences to tourist here. Taxis can’t reach these places and one has to walk a long way. The Hanuman temple was high on a hillock. Looking at the stairs that led there, we decided that my father and mother will not go with us. In the northern part of the country sweets are offered to God as prasad. We bought some and went up to the temple. A visit to one swamiji was suggested by my guide. My father and mother were very impressed by the swamy. Although I did not get into the room where swamiji was giving darshan, my son told me that grand father donated the swami some money. We spent a while at Sarayu while my father did some prayers. After lunch at a wayside dabha we retired to our hotel.
Some thing struck to us in the evening. We felt as though we missed out on some thing at Ayodya. So, three of us returned back leaving parents at the hotel in Faizabad. This was really interesting, an old township with an intricately carved façade on the banks of Sarayu. The dwelling seemed to be very old, may be a few centuries. It looked like a well designed integrated township. On our query some one told us that the structures belonged to Vikramadithya period. Still people live there and life seems to thrive with some modern amenities like electricity.
Next morning we picked up some purees from a railway restaurant and boarded train to Varansi. The journey is about 3 hours. We reached our destination by noon. We moved into a decent hotel near the cantonment. We realized that we were a bit tired, but in a greed to make most of our visit, I and my wife moved in a rickshaw to Viswanth temple. Some one hinted that other vehicles were not allowed there in the day.
Bhakti is an important word in the Hindu lingo. I am not sure of an equal in English. Trust and surrender together may make the nearest. My wife started stooping down in obeisance at every step as we proceeded to the sanctum. That was evident in many around too. After the usual khakhi check in the name of security we entered the mandap. Eyes shut; I desperately tried to connect to some thing beyond what was around. Like every other time, I realized that I was not successful in my spiritual intent. This is something natural and auto suggestive to me and happens when ever I am in a temple. My wife came out extremely happy and satisfied. It was a quick rendezvous with gods and goddesses; Annapurna,Vishalakshi,Hanuman,Kal bhairav amongst others. For my father it was the second visit. He described to us how in his last visit he was pushed by a surging crowd inside the Viwasnath temple.
Banares is also a place for silks. We visited a few shops and picked a couple of sarees. Here sarees are loomed in many houses. The concept of cottage industry in such scale still lives in the modern metropolis. Two days went by in a moment, visiting ghats and around. In the hurly-burly, I acquired some guitar strings for my son and a fountain pen for me. The pen shop owner is a connoisseur of the fountains. Sheafers,Pilots,Parkers all expensive vintages were on display. Very interesting.
