The Opening to Kasi

Godowlia

Sonarpura

Bulanala

Rani Ghat

Chet Singh Ghat

Mahanirvani Ghat

Kasiphiles love many things about their beloved city. The gate/doorways of the various buildings of the city are one of them. They are shown in the images above. Starting from the left hand top corner and going clockwise, one may see the images from  Godowlia, Sonarpura, Bulanala, Rani Ghat, Mahanirvani Ghat, Chet Singh Ghat and Chowk.

There is one prominent element that can be seen in many of the images above: the arched top of the doorways. The arches are not plain, they have some kind of design around them and on their margins. The sides have pseudo-columns or half columns that form the base of the arch. Now, real Kasilogists may be able to give a detailed analysis of the architectural features. A lay man like me can only describe what he sees.

I stumbled upon a rare picture related to this temple that I must share here. Edwin Greaves, in his Kashi: The City Illustrated or Benares (Allahabad: The Indian Press, 1909), has given a photograph of the entrance to the Kashiraj Kali temple near Godowlia Crossing:

The temple compound is just next door to the hospital where my father was born. The temple is run by a family of Maithil Brahmins related to our family. That’s why I had been to the temple several times. In my regular (initial and pragmatic) visits, I passed through the gate without registering its beauty. It was on my most recent visit, when I went to the place after an gap of around a decade, that I really saw the place for what it is. Luckily, I have some additional images of the same structure:

                          

It’s delicately and finely carved.  I wish that the banners of the grand Phulwari Restaurant were not there, obstructing the full view at the top and by the balcony. Moreover, the banner to the right, on the balcony, is clamped there with no regard for the sustainability of the atrocious usage. I don’t know whether the Archaeological Society of India should be doing something for this or not but such things may also be opposed at local level. The bundles of wool dangling to the left and the makeshift tarpaulin too mar the overall aesthetic experience.

The pattern of leaves and creeper stems around one central flower is repeated all over the top of the arch. Moving towards the eaves, one finds that the algae and moss from the previous monsoons have coated the structure completely, i.e. no maintenance for a long time. The whole chhajja over the roof bears witness to the fact. The corbels under the balcony and under the eaves have a complex structure with two globular nodes at the two hanging terminals.

The decorative carving on the sides of the gate can not be seen completely as the tarpaulin obstructs the view. Who may be the garlanded figure at the base, from whom the flowering tree originates? It may be Vishnu. I’m not sure. Ironically, garlands dangling from then morning garlands stall and the juju of chillies and lemon prove that the space under the balcony is permanently occupied.

The features of the Kali Badi bear some resemblance to the overhang and corbel of the building at Man Mandir Ghat as can be seen from the images below. The balcony has a more complex structure in comparison but there are many features of the buildings shown above that can be found in the stone buildings of Kasi. The photo gallery at the top proves it right.

 

There is a difference between temple/palace architecture and that of a house. Yet, Houses in Kasi do have some features in common (including the omnipresent commercial hoardings and banners that obstruct the full view). In the image below, there’s an old house that one can see while passing from Chowk Police Station towards Bulanala, around the opening to the gali that leads to Agrasen Mahajani School.

There are many similarities in the features of this house and that of the Godowlia Kali Badi. The double globuled corbels and the finely carved panels over the arch are similar. The domed balcony and the parapet are similar too.

Now have a look at the arched stone entrance to this house at Bulanala. The design of and over the arch is similar to the other arches discussed here. In the images below, the corbels are, once more, bi-globular (even under the balcony of the more dilapidated house to the left in the image with an auto in it). The repeated flower and leaf motif over the arches can be seen in the images below too.

            

There’s a corbelled verandah in my house in Kasi. Shamefully for me, I’ve forgotten what the corbels look like. What’s more I’ve forgotten the details of the arch over the entrance too. I do need revision! Or maybe, my friends Rishi and Atma must go on another snapping spree!

Kasiphile and Kasilogist

I used the terms kasiphile and kasilogist in my previous posts without any explanation because I  had presumed that the words are quite self-explanatory despite probably being neologisms. But then, I had held similar vain opinion about “ghatscape” that had finally turned out to be no neologism at all. After I had googled the terms, I found out that my I was definitely wrong. Thus arose the need for this post that begins with making the meaning and etymology clear.

Kasiphile: A person who loves Kasi (etymologically, it comes from Kasi or Varanasi or Banaras and philia or love).

Kasilogist: A person with (not just passing, but deep) knowledge of Kasi (etymologically from Kasi and logy or knowledge).

Now, these two terms don’t always go together. I am a Kasiphile for sure, but not a Kasilogist. The same goes for many of my friends. I don’t know whether there is any possibility of there being a Kasilogist who does not love the city. Please inform me through the comment section if you do know any.

Multilingualism in Kasi

The famous Kasiphile and Kasilolgist Richard Lannoy remarked that the people of Kasi, especially those who deal with others professionally, know more than five languages. I want to look deeper in light of my own experience as a Banarsi. On the ghat in the image below, I had heard little boatmen (boys, rather) speaking a variety of English that they had invented, but that did make sense to me and to the foreigners they were communicating with.

The rikshaw pullers and tea stall owners around the ghats all know how to communicate in something that can be called English. I suspect that around the ghat-restaurants from Chausatti to Munshi Ghats they must have started speaking Japanese, French and Spanish by now.

As far as the shop owners in the area of Kedar Ghat are concerned, they do know several languages. I have heard Imarti Bhaiya, and his family members who sit at various fruit shops in the Kedar Ghat Market,  communicating with Bengalis and South Indians (probably from the Andhra Ashrams in the area) at his shop. I’m quite sure that Pappu Bhaiya can do something similar. His brothers Rajesh and Suresh do speak Hindi, Bangla and some English. They sit on their gaddi or seat the whole day, while the floating and fixed populations of Kasi passes by. There are many Bengali shop owners in the same area who speak good Hindi, English, and a South Indian language for sure. They needed to acquire all these languages for their business that depends on the pilgrims, travellers and others passing the area.

The Sun on Gangaji

The ghatscape of Kasi is well known for the play of sun rays and moonbeams on the broad reflecting canvass of Gangaji’s generally calm surface. The images above were all taken from dawn to morning. They have three elements, that the Kasiphiles adore, in common: Gangaji, the sun and the boats. Gangaji and the sun have a close relation in Kasi. The rising sun can only be seen clearly and fully when one is close to the riverfront. As dawn brings light, boatmen (no women at all) start waking up and their boats start appearing on the river.

The colour of the water keeps changing with that of the rising sun. Early in the morning, when the diffused sun rays have just succeeded in fighting with the darkness of night, the water is coloured some kind of orange-grey. As the sun becomes visible for the first time, its vermillion is caught by the river, which later turns scarlet. Finally, as the sunlight becomes yellowish and the sky becomes blue, the river appears greyish, greenish-blue or blue.

My Experience of Galis in Kasi

I was born and brought up in the galis of Kasi. I had experienced them since I gained a kind of consciousness of my environs. Yet, I started understanding them only when I had reached an age of fifteen. I remember the year because I was taking my board exam for high school then. Agrasen Mahajani School is deep inside Chaukhambha Lane, near Chowk Police Station. It was the centre for the exam for the students of Bengali Tola Inter College that year. The entrance of the gali is shown in the image below.

My father used to drop me there for the exam that was scheduled around the festival of Holi (not so strangely, my next board exam was also scheduled in a similar manner by the enemies of celebrations, and at the same centre). I was not acquainted with the network of galis of the pakki mahal then. Since childhood, I had gone up to the galis around the Kashi Vishwanath Temple with my grandfather, never beyond. On my own, I could journey straight  from Kedar Ghat to Kashi Vishwanath walking on the main route with no detours possible. When I saw the shops of the gali, the richness of stimuli captivated my senses, especially eyes and nose. I asked my omniscient Amol Mama about the gali and he answered all my questions, including a detailed word-map of how to reach there from Kashi Vishwanath Temple.

My explorations of the galis of pakki mahal started when I had reached class eleventh. There were many factors responsible. My gali experience during the board exam of the previous session and my mama being the immediate catalysts. He had told me long and detailed descriptions of the labyrinths of galis that could take one up to Raj Ghat. Raj Ghat had the famous iron bridge spanning across Gangaji that could be seen from any point on the ghatscape of Kasi. It was calle Dufferin Bridge once and can still be recognized by that name but its modern name is Malviya Bridge. Its new name undoubtedly comes from Mahamana Malviya, the founder of Banaras Hindu University.

Although no word-map has the power to navigate one from Kedar Ghat to Raj Ghat through galis, his descriptions did inspire me to make an attempt. I don’t remember going on my first quest for the right way with any companions (accomplice would be a better word, as it was during the school time that all these explorations were made). I don’t remember how, but I did reach Adampura Road solely through galis. After that I used to ask my friend Arnab to cut classes and accompany me. Others used to go to play cricket or watch movies after cutting classes, but we were drawn towards the captivating galis of Kasi. Our nearly daily journey used to begin near our school in the images below.

                                                                          

The whole neighbourhood facing our school, starting from the gali right after C M Anglo Bengali primary School that dives into the ghat-side galis, is called Bengali tola. The main road that passes by both the schools mentioned above and the gali is shown below.

We used to enter the dense network of galis at Bengali Tola and from there we used to have two choices: entering the Kedar-Dashashwamedh Ghat Lane by going straight through Mansarovar/Narad Ghat area, or pass Shava Shiva Kali Badi and Ganesh Mahaal to enter the same KD Lane at its terminal near Dashashwamedh Ghat. From there, we could either take the main Vishwanath Lane or a by lane that opened near Rajendra Prasad Ghat and met the main lane later. If not in a hurry, we’d take the Vishwanath Gali.

Vishwanath Gali must be seen if one wants to understand what it has in store for them. It has shops selling an amazing variety of things. The products on display draw a huge number of people of all nationalities: buyers and window shoppers alike. I accompanied my parents and friends while they did their shopping. I remember getting toys from the gali. I remember the stainless steel shop that my parents regularly went to; and then, all those shops selling various things related to Hindu ceremonies etc.  The only time I bought something from there with my own money, is yet to come. I think the item I may have to buy with my own money will be Indian mouth fresheners.

After passing the whole gali lined by various shops on both sides, one finally reaches the entrance to the temple complex. When we were children, we used to plunge into the complex with our bicycles and all, without a moment’s hesitation. Post-1992, things didn’t remain the same anymore. Today, the whole area is barricaded and has been converted into some sort of military semi-barracks. What to speak of bicycles, one can’t take even one’s mobile or camera beyond the entrance to the temple complex that starts a couple of metres before Annapurnaji’s Temple.

So, as we used to do then, if one passes the Vishwanath Temple and walks straight on, one reaches Lalita Ghat area. It is very famous for its Nepali Temple towards which (once again) Amol mama had directed me. The temple, as Professor Eck mentions, has Pahupatinath as its central deity. Moreover, it has Khajuraho like carvings on its wooden structures. The broad and straight gali, before it reaches the gali to the right that takes one to the temple, passes a flight of steps along which there are innumerable small shrines of gods, many of whom I do not recognize, under a couple of old and tall shady trees.

                                                                  

There is a deceptive turn to the left that looks more like the entrance to a house than that of another gali. As one takes a few steps onwards, there’s an entrance like structure that leads to the Gadhwasi Tola area. I remember very clearly seeing the name of my father’s contemporary and BHU stdent’s union leader Shree Santosh Kapuria’s name on the banner of one of the Durga Puja clubs of the area. The gali rises in gradient and turns left again to finally meet the main Chaukhambha Lane. From there, one keeps going straight, without turning left in the narrower galis, to reach a bifurcation. A narrower gali goes straight and a broader one to the left. One takes the broader gali and passes a temple (of Vallabh Sect, if I remember), and then goes on straight to Prahlad Ghat area, passing Bhargav Bhushan Press on the way. A very narrow gali then takes one to Teliyanala Ghat, a couple of ghats before Raj Ghat. The whole region around this ghat bears a neglected kind of looks. The neighbourhood is not very affluent, and it reflects on both the ghats and the galis.

The Pull of the Picturesque

Where is the place in the image above? What is it?

Well, I’m not going to tell. At least, until you have made your guesses! Please post your guesses in the comment section.

What I’m going to do now is to talk about the structure in the image. I remember seeing it for the first time after I had passed class twelve. I remember it very vividly because the pull of the picturesque structure was too strong to be forgotten easily, even when two decades have elapsed since then. I was riding my bicycle and passed the compound that houses this structure. I had to stop for a couple of minutes and look.

This structure played a very important role in my life. It was behind my choice of the course of my study. Now, I have talked too much!

Please play by posting comments. The winner gets praise and a page on him/her (provided they mail me the details they want on that page) in my blog.

Koochbehar Kali Badi, Kasi

(Photo: Dr. A. P. Singh and Mr. R. Vohra)

Coincidences sometimes shape the way things eventually turn out. I had not planned a post on Koochbehar Kali Badi, a coincidence made it happen. My Kasiphile friends Atma and Rishi sent me a photo I had not exactly asked for, and it all began.

This snap was taken from the road that joins Sonarpura and Pandey Haweli. One reaches this spot as one walks around three minutes from Sonarpura towards Bengali Tola Inter College, i.e. three hundred metres from Sonarpura Crossing. I used to pass by this exact gate shown in the image at least once daily for at least five consecutive years, as I used to study in the college mentioned above.

The compound of Kali Bari stretches from Sonarpura to Pandey Haweli locality at its front. The main (red) gate is often closed. One has to enter through a smaller gate that’s on the other side of the front face of the compound. There’s an entrance (for us, there used to be two) on the side opposite to the side with the gate on the road. This back gate opens onto a gali, right in front of a house owned by the same estate: the house that I had been visiting for over two decades now, as my friend Arnab’s place.

So, the yellow building seen in the first image above behind the red gate can now be seen more clearly. Rose bushes can be seen in the foreground. Although it’s difficult to recognize them, as they have no flowers on them. The building has some unmistakably Bengali touches: the arch and the columns of the verandah, the wooden frame set on the upper part of the verandah, the shape and design of the boundary wall of the roof. There’s a tree to the left side of the image. The tree is hiding the gap between our building to the right and the one to the left. The other building is the main building of the temple.

The image above is of the same compound and the same direction, only it shows the side of the main building of the Kali Badi that literally means the abode of the Goddess Kali in Bangla. One entering through any of the doors, one reaches a covered verandah that opens into the temple courtyard right in front of the garbh grih. There’s a small wooden door on the side opposite to that shown in the image above that opens into the gali that begins at Baba Farid Mosque on Sonarpura side and then gets bifurcating to the right until it opens up on to the main road to the left passing Pen Co.

 

The image above is from the garden of the compound. I used to carry the humus rich soil from here to fill pots at our home garden. It was at this place that I had first seen the big (at that time, huge) earthworms, of a distinctly different type than the one I had generally seen at home. I used to think then that they were actually the same variety, only grown huge because of excellent nutrition and age!

The construction of the whole compound is crumbling. The gardens are not properly cared for. Something is happening. The place that I used to visit nearly every day, the place that was solidly the same every day for so many days, is not the same any more. It needs money to be restored to its previous beauty.

Where does the money come from? How can it be restored?

We need to make a personal plan for Kali Badi and such other places that make Varanasi what it is. By saving those places, we save our city; we save ourselves, in a way.

The Bridged Houses in the Galis of Kasi

As I had mentioned in one of the previous posts, this post is about the unique bridged houses of the galis of Kasi. Before we launch into the details, I must acknowledge the debt of my friends and fellow Kasiphiles: Rishi (Mr. Rishi Vohra: the Museologist Banarsi, and lover of good life) and Atma (Dr. Atma Prakash Singh: the master of  photography and Dr. of Ancient Indian History), for taking and sending me the photographs of these bridged houses that I had been pestering them about. As I have been doing photo-posts on Kasi of late, this post would not have been possible without their support. I must also thank my Kasiphile and Kasilogist Amol Mama for sharing his knowledge of Kasi’s bridged houses with me. In fact, it is he who “knows” about Kasi, in addition to having seen and experienced it. He has an amazing store of information: both facts and legends related to Kasi, and has his own way of telling the stories that I have been happily listening to, since I was a child. I have only seen and experienced my city. I am a laggard in the knowledge department.

(Photo: Dr. A. P. Singh and Mr. R. Vohra)

There are many galis in Kasi that have a bridge spanning across the gali to join two houses on two sides. I call them the bridged houses, provisionally of course, suggest a better name and I’ll use it. In the image above, one can see the structure that I had mentioned in one of my previous posts. The place from where the snap was taken is the terminal of the gali that meets the main gali parallel to Gangaji near Pandey Ghat, right after Narad Ghat. One may also see the ruins of a (once) magnificent Bengali house in the background. But that’s the stuff for another post later. I could only make guesses about the origin and use of such bridges between the two houses, until I asked my uncle (Amol Mama).

He told me that he had seen the original papers of his uncle’s house in Devnathpura. In the papers he had seen it clearly mentioned that there used to be seven houses, four on one side and three facing those four, under single ownership. There is a bridge that joins the two sides of the property. With the passage of time, the property changed hands and the number of owners increased. Today, the bridge in his uncle’s house is only ornamental.

(Photo: Dr. A. P. Singh and Mr. R. Vohra)

The bridge in the image directly above looks quite healthy and functional. One may see iron grilled windows and a cement wall that stand in contrast to the old stone walls whitewashed without any use of cement, and simple wooden windows of the traditional old houses. The windows and walls of the house to the left in the same image provide a sharp and clear contrast. The bridge, and the houses have definitely been repaired, just like the house to the right, and the old shape and look of the traditional gali house have been altered nearly beyond recognition.

(Photo: Dr. A. P. Singh and Mr. R. Vohra)

Now look at the bridge in this image. It’s an original with no later alterations in the outer structure visible. The more than a century old walls are solid stone whitewashed. A wooden frame of sturdy wood (don’t have much knowledge of the timber) painted black with coal tar is once again traditional Banarsi. The curved line coming on the stone wall just over the base of the bridge had been there since the beginning. Only the grille of the windows is a definitely recent addition. The stone window-overhang is quite typical Banarsi feature.

I must confess that I’d never been inside such a bridge or even inside a house having it. So, I can’t tell how it looks or feels from the inside. For those who live in these houses joined by the bridge, it must be an everyday experience. They may even have stopped feeling the wonder of the place they call home. In fact, many of us have lost feeling that wonder. What is the one apt word for it? Please post it in comment if you know the word. The old rootlessness versus rootedness debate has its natural parallel in the loss or not of the wonder of the place called home.

              

(Photos: Dr. A. P. Singh and Mr. R. Vohra)

Crowd and Solitude in Kasi

           

Kasi is a city that has been popularly known as belonging to widows, bulls, steps and the renunciate. Quite antithetically, then, one sees Kasi actually belonging to the crowd. It’s not a recent phenomenon. History has seen and known the city for its crowds. How then, does it attract the sanyasi who chooses to come here, like his lord Shivji, from his Himalayan abode? The city never wakes up, because one needs to sleep before it wakes up. Actually, Kasi never sleeps. Anybody who has reached Cantt. Railway Station late at night or in the early hours of the morning knows what I mean. As for the inner zone of various khandas, the worship must end late and begin very early the next day. So, a devotee has to wake up at around four in the morning, whereas, many go home by twelve. Thus, the city never sleeps.

In a city that never sleeps, people can always be found in varying concentrations at various places at various times. When one knows those present around, its company. Otherwise, it’s crowd (Reminds me of Benedict Anderson. Any resemblance is unintended and totally accidental!) Yet, less than ten people around isn’t the acceptable volume to be designated as crowd in Kasi. Thus in the images above, taken at around eight in the morning, what we see is not a crowd at all. The images below have something that may eventually (it does, every day) grow into a respectable crowd. This snap was taken beside the entrance of the famous Sheetla Temple.

  

The area that is visible in the images above is the most visited space on the riverfront: Dashashwamedh Ghat. It’s the most visited for various reasons. The much celebrated recently invented format of the spectacle called Ganga Aarti has made it popular in no small way (and it’s very photogenic too) in the recent years. The galis and ghats overflow with people, many of them sporadically, some of them for a long part of the day.

There are some times on many ghats and places, and few ghats and places at many times, one has high probability of finding either total undisturbed and uninterrupted solitude or something close to it for a long time.

         

The two side images above are the two sides of the ghatscape, as seen from Chet Singh Ghat in the middle. It is from my personal experience, that too, from nearly a decade back, that I can say that this region provides opportunity and space for solitude for a long part of the day. One strong reason behind the general absence of crowd is there being no celebrated temple around. I have spent many hours in this zone, especially at around twelve in the afternoon and then, around five in the evening.

                                     

The two images above are of Vijay Nagram Ghat. In the image to the left a couple of daily visitors can be seen occupying their customary space on the steps of the ghat. The image to the right highlights the space that is used especially in the evenings for people who come here to spend some time in solitude. This place is very special because it provides a very noisy sort of space for the seekers of solitude, and they accept it with thanks. Every step is occupied in the evening, yet there are some who just sit there, don’t look at any person in particular, try to never interact with any one (even non-verbally), keep gazing at the ghatscape and the horizon.

Although the din disturbs at times, but practice makes a man (seen no women on these steps in the evening) perfect, and one learns being alone amidst a throbbing crowd too. The soothing presence of Gangaji definitely helps. It works in the case of Kedar and Chowki Ghats too.

                            

The image to the left above is of Kedar Ghat and that to the right is of Chowki Ghat. The stone steps between the chhatris and Gangaji remained unoccupied once (I don’t know the situation today) for a large part of the day barring the morning and evening rush hours. Yes, ghats and galis have their rush hours too. The image below is the front stone terrace of Lali Ghat.

Its a very secluded space as crowd generally does not come here. Its being close to Harishchandra Ghat gives it some sort of immunity from the crowd of the common Banarsi, Indian pilgrims and travellers. Although foreign travellers make it a point to visit the Manikarnika and Harishchandra Ghats for their essential snaps of a Hindu cremation at its various stages.

[I mention it because I don’t fully understand the attraction these funerals have for them. Rather I don’t understand that which I don’t have, neither do I think “we” have. Indians generally stay away from funerals until it becomes essential. I don’t think they’d go to Europe or the US and request a special guided tour of a complete stranger’s funeral proceedings. This is some kind of cultural difference I think. Those who know more about the funereal inclination of Indians vis a vis the Westerners, in India or abroad may please comment.]

 

Dome and Minarets on Kasi Ghat

The ghatscape of Kasi is dominated by one huge edifice of solid stone popularly known as Beni Madho ka Dharhara. As one looks from any ghat between Kedar and Manikarnika Ghats towards Raj Ghat, one can’t fail to see this structure.

     

History books and travelogues have it that at this very spot once stood the famous Bindu Madhav Temple, one of the main temples of Kasi, special because its central deity was Vishnuji. In this way, along with Adi Keshav, this was the focal point of the devotion of the vaishnavas in the city of Shivji. Aurangzebe ordered the destruction of Kasi’s temples. Vishweshwar and Bindu Madhav Temples were both destroyed and mosques made at their place, reusing the material of the destroyed temple; at least, in one case. Now, the idol from the original temple is kept in some place nearby and is not as popular as it once used to be.

Aurangzeb’s mosque, writes Sherring, had unstable minarets that had to be shortened considerably later on. Yet, the present mosque is still a magnificent and imposing structure indeed.

The images above make it very clear that the mosque is made of the same kind of material that went to make the ghats and temples in Kasi: Chunar stone. It is a part of the architectural tradition of Kasi. The first time I saw it, I was struck with awe and wonder. It was early in the morning then and sun rays were illuminating the front. The central dome of the mosque is four or five storeys high, as can be judged by comparing its neighbouring houses. Nothing like it can be seen in Kasi. The other mosque constructed by Aurangzebe’s orders in Kasi is at Jnana Vaapi. Although it’s more widely known because it was demanded by Hindutva organizations during the rise of BJP, it stands no chance in comparison to the (Bindu Madhav) mosque in grandeur and beauty.

This mosque is not visited by many. Although people have seen it from some ghat afar, they have never seen this wonderful building closely. People of my acquaintance generally guessed the location of the mosque somewhere in Delhi or Lucknow, not even once in Kasi.

One has to climb a flight of stone stairs to reach the wooden front door of the compound. As one enters the compound there’s a shallow fountain of stone. To the left there are rooms for the care-taker who has a smiling face and amiable nature. On hearing that I’m a Banarsi, he welcomed me with open arms and we chatted a little before I left.