I was researching Delhi, Agra, Varanasi and Calcutta for my book From Skopje to India. For new readers, the book is about a lady's entry into India during the final days of British rule. Majaorie Yakob travelled to the other side of the world from Skopje, the land of the Great Ottomans.
It's a story like I have never written before.
Today, I will talk about Varanasi. I had only heard of it as a holy place for Hindus until I read more about the site and was enlightened by the 88 ghats symbolising life and death - they host birth ceremonies to cremation ceremonies. Ghats are riverfront steps leading to the banks of the Ganges River, where rituals are performed to ensure salvation. People of other faiths also visit the holy site and partake in the rituals.
The Ganges is sacred and revered for its personification of the Goddess Ganga, as the goddess offers spiritual cleansing and protection. Bathing in its waters can wash away sins, and dying on its banks ensures a favorable afterlife.
Please read two pages of the excerpt in my book on Varanasi.
VARANASI: We arrived in Varanasi late in the evening. The journey was
tiring throughout due to the bad roads. The scent of incense
filled our senses as we entered the city, and the streets were
crowded. I was hungry, and my stomach rumbled. Spotting a
street stall bathed in the warm glow of a gas lantern, we made
our way there.
The vendor, a man with a neatly trimmed mustache and a
sparkle in his eye, stood behind a small cart laden with
golden-brown samosas and crispy-looking pani puri.
"Namaste, Saab," I greeted him, the Hindi words feeling clumsy
on my tongue. Please tell me what you have here.
They smell delicious. Though I knew we would opt for the crispy
samosas over the pani puri, I asked him just the same. Kincaid
stood looking at the savory delights displayed on the cart. We
saw bottles of mineral water on the shelves and asked for two
bottles.
"Namaste," he replied, his voice welcoming. "Samosa hai, pani
puri hai. Aur kya chahiye?" (There are samosas...pani
puri. What else do you need?)
"Two plates of samosas, please," I pointed to the triangular
pastries. "Aur… aapka naam kya hai, sahib?" (And… What is your
name, sir?) I asked gaily.
It was a pleasure to converse in Hindi
after such a long time - it brought back memories of Delhi.
He smiled as he carefully arranged the samosas on two small
paper plates.
"Mera naam Ram hai. Aur aap?" (My name is Ram.
And you?) He was an elderly gentleman with a twinkle in his
eyes for us. He was amused that I was conversing in Hindi with a
foreign accent.
"Main, Maja hoon" (I am Maja), I replied. "Main is sheher se
guzar raha hoon" (I am passing through this city).
Ram nodded knowingly while handing me the plate. The
samosas were hot and filled with spiced potatoes and peas.
"Varanasi bahut pavitra hai," he said as I took a bite. "Varanasi
is a very sacred city."
"Haan, main jaanta hoon," I replied, savoring the flavors. (Yes, I
know.) "That’s why I came here."
A moment of silence passed between us as Kincaid and I ate the
samosas.
The city sounds were loud around us – bicycle bells
ringing, the chanting from the ghats, the chatter of Hindi being
spoken by the locals blended with the surroundings.
"Pehle kabhi Varanasi aaye hain?" Ram asked as he wiped his
hands on a dishcloth next to him. (Have you ever been to
Varanasi before?)
"Nahi, pehli baar hai," I admitted. (No, it's my first time.) "The
city is different from what I expected."
Ram smiled broadly this time. He was proud of his city, we could
tell.
"Varanasi aasan nahi hai. (It's not easy.) At night, it can be
overwhelming. It's a special city where you will find power and
enlightenment not found anywhere else.”
"Yes, it definitely is different. I can feel the enlightenment here
already, " I said, accepting that the city felt holy. Kincaid felt the
same too and agreed, "The place is chaotic, but a sense of peace
lingers here. I can feel it, and it’s indeed special.”
"Exactly! Life and death exist side by side in this city," Ram said,
his eyes twinkling. "You can say, Varanasi is a city of
contradictions. Open your heart to it, and you will learn its
secrets."
Read the latest review on Amazon:
Reviewed in the United States on March 3, 2025 This book is more than a story. It's an enlightenment. It journals the thoughts and aspirations of a lady
who embarks on a selfless journey.
When she left a trail from Skopje, she didn't understand that it would take her to a land
as diverse as India.
A little girl at a Buddhist temple told her that the poorest state in India was Calcutta.
She learnt the Hindi and English languages, fell in love with the tutor and visited the holy site of
Varanasi before she reached Calcutta. There, a church provided her with a hostel and a teaching job,
and she began her mission of teaching the poor and destitute.
The author has written an exceptionally intriguing story that details the British-India giving up their
role as Colonial Masters and touches with clarity on the views of the locals with understanding
and compassion.
Love is a conviction, Majaorie Yakob says when she falls in love.
A beautiful love story that began in Agra - the immortal land of love made famous by the Taj Mahal.
Definitely a must-read. Don't miss out on the greatest story written by Shobana Gomes.
Read 'The Dominated Era' at the link below:
https://shobanasmusings.blogspot.com/2025/03/the-dominated-era.html
Read my poem, Love is a Conviction here: https://shobanagomes.blogspot.com/2025/02/majaorie-yakob-and-love.html
Thank you for reading!
