Varanasi - City of Death

From Varanasi

From Varanasi

From Varanasi

*I need to make a note in the beginning that this is going to be a graphic posting regarding death - read at your own comfort.

Varanasi is one of the holiest cities in the Hindu religion, and it is said that if a Hindu dies here, they receive instant moksha (release from the never-ending cycle of death and rebirth). If a Hindu doesn't die here, the next best option for them is to have their bodies brought to Varanasi within 24 hours of death and they will be cremated at the 'burning ghat' and their ashes thrown into the Ganges.
I had heard about the burning ghats and expected to see wood stacked up high and massive flames, but all from a distance and not very clearly. I did not, however, have that far-away experience and what I saw has burned a place into my memory forever.
As westerners, we were ushered into a hospice building directly above the ghats and told to stand there and watch below, but not to take any pictures as that is disrespectful to the families of the deceased. (The pictures above were taken from very far away with a zoom lens, as is allowed). We walked up to this balcony and looked down and immediately saw 6 bodies being cremated. Not wrapped up in sheet or towel or anything to cover, but full-bodies being burned. We were about 15 feet up and directly overhead so we were so close we could smell and hear the flesh burning. As we were standing there, a seventh body was brought down to the ghat dressed up in ceremonial saffron yellow sheets, the body carried by the young male family members. They lay the body down and undress it from the saffron sheets and heaved his body onto a pyre already burning brightly with flames. I cannot describe what emotions come out of you (as a Westerner not used to being exposed to such sights) and at this moment I stood there completely shocked and just cried.
As bodies burn, the tendons shrink up and torsos and arms have the tendency to move up, so as we are standing there we see an arm start to lift up and someone has to come in and put more wood on the body to keep it from 'sitting up'.
We were told that it is the duty of the oldest son to be the one tending to the cremation of their family member. None of the men were visibly upset and tended to the fires as if they were tending to a fire that would light up a kettle at home. We asked the priest working at the hospice if death is an emotionally sad time for Hindus (a justified question as many of the world's religions look upon death as a time for celebration, as their loved one has been released from the pains of life and is lifted into a much better afterlife) - the priest said that it is still a very sad time for the family, but they are not supposed to show any emotion during the time of cremation, and often many of the families have had an extremely hard 24 hours attempting to get the body of their loved one to the Ganges in time, so exhaustion and their duty take over.
We made a donation to the priest and walked away. I was still crying and wished I could hold Steve's hand or hug him, but since we are in India (and no signs of affection between men and women are allowed) we just looked at each other with tears in our eyes and nothing to say.