My flight from Atlanta to Delhi was remarkably easy. Going through customs and immigration, meeting the driver who would take me to my B&B, and settling in that first evening were also very easy. I eased my way into India. Over the next few days, I met up with fellow Fulbrighters Reena, Devin, and Daniel. In a bit, I'll spend some more time there. It was very chill, which was good because upon my arrival in Varanasi things would start to move much faster.
USIEF (United States India Education Foundation, the people who administer Fulbright grants in India) had made arrangements for me to stay at an international scholars guest house at CUTS (Central University of Tibetan Studies) in Sarnath. Sarnath is about 20km (~12.5 miles) north of Varanasi. It's where the Buddha gave his first teaching after becoming enlightened. I'll be working with some scholars there starting in December. Since Emory has strong ties with CUTS, my official institutional affiliation is with them.
This affiliation is important for a number of logistical reasons. In order to get a research visa to India, a scholar needs an affiliation with a host institute. Once the scholar arrives in India, s/he has 14 days to register at the aptly named Foreign Registration Office. In order to register, one must have an (at least nominally) permanent address. USIEF booked me a room at CUTS so that I could use that address to register; a hotel wouldn't be sufficient, but a university guest house apparently sounds permanent enough that it's acceptable. Neeraj, the staff member at USIEF who is my primary contact there, advised me not to wait until I found an apartment but just to pretend like I was planning on staying at CUTS and register right away.
My plane from Delhi to Varanasi was delayed by just enough that I had to rush to get the letter from CUTS that I needed to register. I arrived on a Saturday, and the University was about to close for a week to celebrate Diwali. By the time the letter was sorted out, it was too late to go to the FRO and actually register. I went to my room (which was clean and cheerful), unpacked, and found myself sitting there at about 5:30-6ish with no good idea of where I was or how to get dinner. I decided to go into Varanasi and meet Rakesh, a friend of many of my friends who had lived in or traveled through Varanasi. I had the address of his book shop in Assi (a neighborhood toward the southern end of Varanasi), so I went out the university gate and tried to find an auto rickshaw to take me.
Rickshaws in Varanasi come in two basic varieties: auto and cycle. As you'd expect, cycles are generally for short distances and autos for longer (or if you're carrying stuff or need to get somewhere fast). Auto rickshaws aren't cars; they have three wheels, are maybe 6ft long by 3ft wide, and have no doors. When I went to the road, there were no autos but a number of cycle drivers hanging out there. They asked where I was going, I told them Assi, and then said that it was probably too far for a cycle. One guy, however, insisted that he could take me. Since I wasn't really clear on the distance, I let myself be convinced that taking a cycle to Assi was a reasonable thing to do.
It wasn't. It took about two hours to go the 20km from Sarnath to Assi. On the way in, that was basically ok. Riding on a cycle rickshaw is one of the best ways to see Varanasi; the seats are quite high so you're above the rest of the traffic. Also, the pace is slow enough that you can really look around. My first memories of Varanasi are of dust, crumbling roads, and old soot-streaked buildings. It quickly got dark. The orange glow of sodium-vapor lamps, punctuated by strings of brightly colored fairly lights, threw strange shadows across buildings, shops, and banners. None of the buildings here are very tall, but the play of lights across their elaborate facades gave the whole city a somewhat surreal feel that first night.
And then there's the noise. Drivers in Varanasi basically use horns instead of turn signals (and in many cases instead of mirrors or head-checking too). This results in a constant variegated clashing blare that sounds like utter chaos. Now that I've been here for awhile, I can hear some order in the noise; I know the sound of an autorickshaw vs. a scooter vs. a motorcycle vs. a car vs. a cycle. I also can hear the difference between a basically friendly beep (the kind that works like a turn signal to inform other travelers that the driver is about to pass or whatnot) and the jackass scream of guy planning to careen through traffic with little regard for anyone else. Even with this bit of clarity, however, it is just LOUD here. Loud, loud, loud. The noise and the constant bumping from the bad roads combined and seemed to jar loose my awareness from the rest of my body; I was there, but I guess I couldn't quite believe it.
In this somewhat dissociated and highly bedraggled state, I finally reached Harmony, Rakesh's book shop. Harmony is an oasis in a sea of chaos. It's a relatively small shop; I'd estimate it's about 20ft by 40ft, but that could be completely off. In that small space, however, are 12,000 books. There are books everywhere: lining all of the walls from floor to ceiling, on shelves and stacks in the middle of the store, and overflowing in piles stacked on the floor or on top of boxes containing yet more books that have just arrived. They're good books too. Rakesh stocks an eclectic mix of Indology, philosophy, literature (both Western and Indian), critical theory, anthropology, art, photography, history, religion, popular science, and multilingual dictionaries. Walking around the shelves was like meeting old friends. John and Sara's (my two advisors at Emory) books are there, and so are many of my favorite books in my field. I also saw a copy of Joyce's Ulysses, which always warms my heart. In addition to their edifying qualities, all these books provide good soundproofing and insulation. It's astonishingly quiet in Harmony. Rakesh also has AC, so it's cool.
Originally, my friend and fellow graduate student Dan (who is also the person who put me into contact with Rakesh) was going to meet me at Harmony for dinner. He's currently studying in Kathmandu and was passing through Varanasi on the way to Bodh Gaya for some teachings by Chokyi Niyma Rinpoche, a high-ranking Tibetan Buddhist monk. When I got to the shop, however, Dan wasn't there. Rakesh greeted me and showed me an email from Dan titled I MISSED MY FUCKING PLANE. Apparently Dan would be joining us the next day. By now it was late enough for Rakesh to close up his shop and take me to a cafe for some food and chatting. He thought it was hilarious that I had taken a cycle from Sarnath. Rakesh is easy-going, quick to laugh, and knows everything and everybody in Varanasi. The cafe we went to was very nice. After a flaky pastry stuffed with spinach, I was feeling quite a bit more settled. I was also exhausted, so I soon headed back to Sarnath.
In my pre-Harmony dissociated state, I had agreed to let the cycle driver take me back to Sarnath. He lives there, so I knew he knew where he was going and had good reason to get me back in one piece. The ride back home was torturous for both of us. It was quite late. He was understandably exhausted, and so was I. At one point, we stopped on the side of the road so that he could get some food and chai. I sat blankly in the dark feeling both physically and mentally numb. Finally we got back to CUTS. I staggered my way into my room and watched an episode of Doctor Who before going to bed. Doctor Who, strangely, has been my lifeline through these first weeks in Varanasi. Watching the show, I want to be like the Doctor and his Companions: intrepid, engaged, and filled with wondrous curiosity about the world. And I think, hey, I'm not facing a Dalek... things can't be that bad.
USIEF (United States India Education Foundation, the people who administer Fulbright grants in India) had made arrangements for me to stay at an international scholars guest house at CUTS (Central University of Tibetan Studies) in Sarnath. Sarnath is about 20km (~12.5 miles) north of Varanasi. It's where the Buddha gave his first teaching after becoming enlightened. I'll be working with some scholars there starting in December. Since Emory has strong ties with CUTS, my official institutional affiliation is with them.
This affiliation is important for a number of logistical reasons. In order to get a research visa to India, a scholar needs an affiliation with a host institute. Once the scholar arrives in India, s/he has 14 days to register at the aptly named Foreign Registration Office. In order to register, one must have an (at least nominally) permanent address. USIEF booked me a room at CUTS so that I could use that address to register; a hotel wouldn't be sufficient, but a university guest house apparently sounds permanent enough that it's acceptable. Neeraj, the staff member at USIEF who is my primary contact there, advised me not to wait until I found an apartment but just to pretend like I was planning on staying at CUTS and register right away.
My plane from Delhi to Varanasi was delayed by just enough that I had to rush to get the letter from CUTS that I needed to register. I arrived on a Saturday, and the University was about to close for a week to celebrate Diwali. By the time the letter was sorted out, it was too late to go to the FRO and actually register. I went to my room (which was clean and cheerful), unpacked, and found myself sitting there at about 5:30-6ish with no good idea of where I was or how to get dinner. I decided to go into Varanasi and meet Rakesh, a friend of many of my friends who had lived in or traveled through Varanasi. I had the address of his book shop in Assi (a neighborhood toward the southern end of Varanasi), so I went out the university gate and tried to find an auto rickshaw to take me.
Rickshaws in Varanasi come in two basic varieties: auto and cycle. As you'd expect, cycles are generally for short distances and autos for longer (or if you're carrying stuff or need to get somewhere fast). Auto rickshaws aren't cars; they have three wheels, are maybe 6ft long by 3ft wide, and have no doors. When I went to the road, there were no autos but a number of cycle drivers hanging out there. They asked where I was going, I told them Assi, and then said that it was probably too far for a cycle. One guy, however, insisted that he could take me. Since I wasn't really clear on the distance, I let myself be convinced that taking a cycle to Assi was a reasonable thing to do.
It wasn't. It took about two hours to go the 20km from Sarnath to Assi. On the way in, that was basically ok. Riding on a cycle rickshaw is one of the best ways to see Varanasi; the seats are quite high so you're above the rest of the traffic. Also, the pace is slow enough that you can really look around. My first memories of Varanasi are of dust, crumbling roads, and old soot-streaked buildings. It quickly got dark. The orange glow of sodium-vapor lamps, punctuated by strings of brightly colored fairly lights, threw strange shadows across buildings, shops, and banners. None of the buildings here are very tall, but the play of lights across their elaborate facades gave the whole city a somewhat surreal feel that first night.
And then there's the noise. Drivers in Varanasi basically use horns instead of turn signals (and in many cases instead of mirrors or head-checking too). This results in a constant variegated clashing blare that sounds like utter chaos. Now that I've been here for awhile, I can hear some order in the noise; I know the sound of an autorickshaw vs. a scooter vs. a motorcycle vs. a car vs. a cycle. I also can hear the difference between a basically friendly beep (the kind that works like a turn signal to inform other travelers that the driver is about to pass or whatnot) and the jackass scream of guy planning to careen through traffic with little regard for anyone else. Even with this bit of clarity, however, it is just LOUD here. Loud, loud, loud. The noise and the constant bumping from the bad roads combined and seemed to jar loose my awareness from the rest of my body; I was there, but I guess I couldn't quite believe it.
In this somewhat dissociated and highly bedraggled state, I finally reached Harmony, Rakesh's book shop. Harmony is an oasis in a sea of chaos. It's a relatively small shop; I'd estimate it's about 20ft by 40ft, but that could be completely off. In that small space, however, are 12,000 books. There are books everywhere: lining all of the walls from floor to ceiling, on shelves and stacks in the middle of the store, and overflowing in piles stacked on the floor or on top of boxes containing yet more books that have just arrived. They're good books too. Rakesh stocks an eclectic mix of Indology, philosophy, literature (both Western and Indian), critical theory, anthropology, art, photography, history, religion, popular science, and multilingual dictionaries. Walking around the shelves was like meeting old friends. John and Sara's (my two advisors at Emory) books are there, and so are many of my favorite books in my field. I also saw a copy of Joyce's Ulysses, which always warms my heart. In addition to their edifying qualities, all these books provide good soundproofing and insulation. It's astonishingly quiet in Harmony. Rakesh also has AC, so it's cool.
Originally, my friend and fellow graduate student Dan (who is also the person who put me into contact with Rakesh) was going to meet me at Harmony for dinner. He's currently studying in Kathmandu and was passing through Varanasi on the way to Bodh Gaya for some teachings by Chokyi Niyma Rinpoche, a high-ranking Tibetan Buddhist monk. When I got to the shop, however, Dan wasn't there. Rakesh greeted me and showed me an email from Dan titled I MISSED MY FUCKING PLANE. Apparently Dan would be joining us the next day. By now it was late enough for Rakesh to close up his shop and take me to a cafe for some food and chatting. He thought it was hilarious that I had taken a cycle from Sarnath. Rakesh is easy-going, quick to laugh, and knows everything and everybody in Varanasi. The cafe we went to was very nice. After a flaky pastry stuffed with spinach, I was feeling quite a bit more settled. I was also exhausted, so I soon headed back to Sarnath.
In my pre-Harmony dissociated state, I had agreed to let the cycle driver take me back to Sarnath. He lives there, so I knew he knew where he was going and had good reason to get me back in one piece. The ride back home was torturous for both of us. It was quite late. He was understandably exhausted, and so was I. At one point, we stopped on the side of the road so that he could get some food and chai. I sat blankly in the dark feeling both physically and mentally numb. Finally we got back to CUTS. I staggered my way into my room and watched an episode of Doctor Who before going to bed. Doctor Who, strangely, has been my lifeline through these first weeks in Varanasi. Watching the show, I want to be like the Doctor and his Companions: intrepid, engaged, and filled with wondrous curiosity about the world. And I think, hey, I'm not facing a Dalek... things can't be that bad.
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