Sex industry in Varanasi

I had a tenant named Nick Chang from Washington, DC. Nick was Taiwanese but held a green card for the USA. He worked as a software engineer and was a Buddhist interested in visiting several Buddhist sites in India. He particularly wanted to visit Sarnath, so I suggested he hire an auto-rickshaw for a round trip. However, Nick was uncomfortable with this idea because he worried he wouldn’t be able to meditate if someone was waiting for him. Knowing the hassle foreigners can face with auto-rickshaw drivers, I decided to arrange a trusted driver, Raju, to take Nick to Sarnath. Raju dropped him off and returned as planned.

On the way back, Nick hired another auto-rickshaw, which turned out to be quite expensive compared to Raju’s fare. Nick claimed he had reserved the entire auto, but the driver let other passengers join. This was inconvenient, but the situation soon deteriorated. The driver made a stop at a railway station to buy something and returned with a young girl who then sat next to Nick in the auto. The driver started making inappropriate suggestions, asking Nick if he would like to spend time with the girl.

Nick firmly refused, but the driver persisted, first asking for Rs. 5000, then Rs. 4000, Rs. 3000, and finally Rs. 1000 for an hour. When Nick continued to refuse, the driver even asked for Rs. 500 just to spend a little time with the girl in the auto. Despite Nick’s continuous refusals, the driver was insistent. Realizing that Nick was not going to agree, the driver then stopped the auto about 3 kilometers from where Nick needed to go, claiming the vehicle had a problem. He told Nick that Assi, his destination, was just a short 3-minute walk away. Trusting the driver, Nick disembarked, only to find that the walk took him over 30 minutes to reach my home.

Nick was understandably distressed after his first day in Varanasi, and I was shocked to witness this new form of exploitation in my hometown. While I had heard about prostitution near railway stations, I never realized how deeply integrated it could be with local services, including auto-rickshaw drivers acting as intermediaries.

Traveling girls drop in

A girl named Erin from Colorado reached out to me to arrange a meeting in Varanasi. She was a friend of Krista, with whom I had previously worked. Erin came with her friend Katerina, who was from Czechoslovakia. Erin was a social activist working with an NGO focused on homelessness, while Katerina was a student. They wanted to stay at my place as paying guests, but I couldn’t accommodate them due to ongoing renovation work. Instead, they stayed at a guest house near Shivala Ghat.

The owner of the guest house brought them to my place to introduce them. Erin and Katerina were interested in taking a boat ride on the Ganges, and the guest house owner quoted them a very high price. I managed to arrange a boat ride for them at a fraction of that cost—five times less, in fact. Erin had brought a bottle of whiskey as a gift for the guest house owner, but he was upset that they had asked me for help instead of him. He refused to accept the whiskey, telling Erin to give it to me because he considered me a better friend. It was clear he was very displeased with me, and I decided it was best not to meet him again.

Eventually, Erin moved to a different guest house closer to my home. We explored Varanasi together, enjoyed my friend’s wedding, and used the whiskey that Erin had bought to gift the previous guest house owner. Roli did henna work on their hands, and Bunti helped them dress in sarees. They looked beautiful and embraced the local culture, dancing a lot at Babalu’s wedding party. I advised them to return to their hotel before it got too late for their safety. However, when we returned around midnight, the hotel gate was locked, and no one responded to our knocks.

With no other options, I invited them to stay at my house. Although my house wasn’t ideally set up for guests at the time, it was the only solution. They stayed at my place for the night, and we continued to explore Varanasi together. Erin later left for Amritsar alone, while Katerina stayed behind but never reached out to me again. I’m not sure where she went after that.

Production work for CBC’s documentary

Today was Nagnathiya, and the CBC team was in Varanasi to start filming their documentary titled *India Rebron – Myths and Might*. Mr. Shubhranshu Chowdhary called me to inform me about it. I had previously assisted him with researching the characters. I met the team at Veer Bhadra Mishra’s house, where the play is organized in Benares. The crowd was massive, with over 25,000 people attending. Although I had seen the play several times before, this was my first experience watching it from a boat, which was a lot of fun. There were many VIPs around my boat.

CBC’s camera was incredible—it was an HD camera, and I had never seen anything like it before. I stayed with them throughout the play’s filming. Afterward, we went to Dashashwamedh Ghat to film the Aarti, which was the final task for the day. CBC wanted to film Mr. Veer Bhadra Mishra the next morning, something I had been looking forward to. I asked Mr. Chowdhary if I could observe Mr. Mishra’s interview, and he said he would call me when they started shooting.

I was very excited about the interview and eagerly awaited Mr. Chowdhary’s call, but he didn’t call. When I finally reached out to him, he informed me that I wouldn’t be able to attend the interview due to certain restrictions imposed by Mr. Mishra. After Mr. Mishra’s interview, the team spent the entire day filming Raja Babu, one of our characters. After two days with Raja Babu, they left Benares.

Work with MTV Italy

My brother, who was working as an Italian interpreter for MTV Italy, asked me to assist them in Benares and Allahabad. They were working on a documentary titled *Camminando*, a joint production between MTV Italy and LA7 (Channel 7). They were in Lucknow when they contacted me, and their next stop was Allahabad, where they wanted to film Patalpuri Temple and the ghats, but they didn’t have any contacts or a clear plan for the shoot. I was tasked with selecting characters and scheduling interviews in both Benares and Allahabad, with only four days to complete the work.

I reached out to Mr. Shubhranshu Chowdhary, who had been my boss during the CBC documentary, to see if he knew anyone in Allahabad. He provided me with the contact information of a journalist in Benares, who then connected me with another journalist in Allahabad. The following day, I traveled to Allahabad and met the journalist. We visited all the locations MTV wanted to film, including the Patalpuri Temple, which is located within Akbar’s fort and is now a military base. Despite our attempts to contact the army officers, the process seemed too lengthy given our tight schedule. I decided to leave this part to the journalist and returned to Benares to complete the remaining tasks.

In Benares, MTV wanted to film Sadhus, Babas, and Aghoris. I first visited the Kina Ram Monastery, the headquarters of the Aghor society. However, I was unable to obtain permission to shoot there because previous TV channels had filmed there without proper authorization, resulting in unauthorized footage being included in their broadcasts. I learned that Aghoris are often misunderstood; they do not consume dead body flesh or engage in other extreme practices as rumored. Although they were very open and informative, they did not allow us to film.

I then visited several other Aghor monasteries, all of which shared similar views about the society’s practices, emphasizing that Aghoris no longer partake in such rituals. I also explored Bhagwan Avdhoot Ram Ashram on the other side of the Ganga, which was quite interesting. The ashram operates a hospital recognized in the Guinness World Records for treating the most leprosy patients, as well as a school for street children, a library, and a press. Although the ashram was initially reluctant to allow MTV to film due to previous issues with the Kina Ram Monastery, I managed to persuade them to permit the shoot.

I visited other monasteries that were open to filming, including one with several Italian Aghoris. Despite their limited knowledge about Aghora, MTV was keen to include them. MTV was particularly interested in finding an Aghori who would eat dead body flesh on camera. This was a challenge because, according to Aghoris, such practices had been abandoned over 400 years ago by Baba Kina Ram and were now prohibited. However, I managed to locate an Aghori who agreed to eat dead body flesh. He planned to perform a special puja called Mahabhog once a year, using dead body flesh, and was willing to conduct an additional puja specifically for MTV.

I was shocked by his willingness to engage in such practices for money. He even provided a list of materials he needed, including two bottles of whisky, and assured me he would arrange for the dead body. He explained that when bodies are cremated, some are retrieved by the Doams, who work at the funeral place, and this would be used for his puja. MTV Italy was thrilled to have found someone willing to perform this ritual, but their Rome office ultimately prohibited the footage of the ritual due to ethical concerns. After completing the filming in Allahabad, MTV Italy arrived in Benares.

We filmed all the planned characters, including an intriguing Baba known as Lali Baba, who wore over 350 necklaces weighing more than 40 kg and engaged in various unique practices. MTV considered Lali Baba to be the standout character of the documentary. We also filmed at the Mother Teresa Home. When the shoot concluded, MTV Italy left Varanasi. Unfortunately, they were among the most disorganized teams I have ever worked with. They lacked a clear schedule, had no knowledge of what to do in Benares until just days before their arrival, and were unfamiliar with the characters they wanted to film.

Later, my brother informed me that the entire crew was arrested in Khajuraho for filming inside temples where cameras were prohibited. They had entered the temple by scaling the back wall and spent over eight hours in jail. Their lack of organization was astonishing.

Ministry of Tourism refuses to issue licenses

After a nine-month wait, the Ministry of Tourism organized the tour guide exam in August. However, they imposed an unexpected requirement: applicants had to provide a domicile certificate issued by the court in Gwalior, which was nearly impossible to obtain within the given timeframe since the court typically takes more than a week to process such documents. As a result, more than half of the applicants were unable to participate in the exam. I managed to secure the certificate and participated, but the Ministry’s attempt to reduce the number of applicants did not succeed.

Those who could not take the exam filed a lawsuit against the government in the High Court of Delhi. The court ordered the Tourism Ministry to hold a new exam for the affected applicants. This meant that everyone eventually had the chance to participate. However, immediately after the second exam, the applicants filed another lawsuit, claiming that the second exam was more difficult than the first and demanding a third exam for all participants. I am confident that the government will not be able to accommodate this demand, as doing so would likely lead to further lawsuits from those who took the initial exams.

As a result of these ongoing legal battles, the Ministry is unable to declare the results of either exam. Additionally, there is a pending case in the High Court of Jaipur regarding a previous exam, filed about five years ago, which suggests that it may take another five to six years to resolve the current issues and declare the results. With the Commonwealth Games scheduled for 2010, it seems unlikely that the government will be able to train the tour guides in time. The process involves resolving all legal cases, completing the admission process, conducting classes, and organizing tours. Given the current circumstances, I doubt that the government will be able to prepare the guides before the Games.

Entrance Exam for Tour Guide Training Program

India is set to host the Commonwealth Games in 2010, and the Indian government aims to prepare 1,000 tour guides for the event. I applied for a tour guide license for North India last November. The process involved a written exam, an interview (if I passed the exam), and, if successful, a three-month training program that included classes and a tour of monuments with a professor. The exam, initially scheduled for February, was delayed by nearly nine months. After this lengthy wait, I finally received my admit card. However, there was a new complication.

The admit card came with a letter instructing me to submit a domicile certificate issued by a court in Gwalior within a week—a nearly impossible task since obtaining such a certificate usually takes longer. I contacted the tourism office, which claimed the delay was due to the postage department’s inefficiency. They said the letter had been sent a month prior but was delayed in delivery. My attempts to resolve the issue with my advocate were hampered by a strike of advocates in Benares. Despite my best efforts, it seemed increasingly likely that I would miss the exam.

Desperate, I reached out to a friend of my brother, who was already undergoing training at the institute where I was supposed to submit my documents. He informed me that bringing alternative residential proof, such as a passport, might be acceptable. The government had anticipated fewer than 20,000 applicants but ended up with over 50,000, leading them to issue the domicile requirement to reduce the number of candidates. Despite this, the institute insisted on the domicile certificate.

Determined, I traveled to Gwalior with the necessary documents and a newspaper clipping about the advocate strike. Upon arriving and meeting my brother’s friend, we went to the institute. Initially, they refused to accept my documents, but after significant negotiation, they agreed to accept my ration card, voter ID, and driving license as substitutes. With the documentation issue resolved, I returned to Delhi to wait for the exam. On the day of the exam, which was held in Delhi, I went with my brother’s wife, who had also applied.

I was relieved to see my name on the list of applicants. The exam turned out to be much easier than I had anticipated. I had expected a challenging test, but the questions were straightforward. To my surprise, I even saw a few students asking others for answers during the exam.

Research for CBC Documentary

Nandlal Master contacted me seeking information about Doams (people working at cremation sites) in Varanasi. He mentioned that his friend, currently in Varanasi, was interested in making a documentary about the lives of Doams. Since I live near the Ghats and have many friends along them, I could easily gather information about Doams. We met me at Assi Ghat, and we started checking hotels nearby to find his friend, who was staying somewhere in the vicinity. After visiting over ten hotels near Assi, we finally found his friend at a hotel close to the ghat.

When we met, his friend explained that he was a freelance journalist who had previously worked for the BBC but had left a few years ago. Currently, he was working on a CBC documentary titled *Myths and Might*. His role involved finding suitable subjects, scheduling interviews, and obtaining legal permissions. Since he was new to Varanasi, he needed my help to locate the right characters for his documentary. He was specifically looking for a young Doam whose father still worked at a cremation site, and who either attended computer classes or had a computer-related job. The goal was to highlight how Indian society was evolving.

I took him to Manikarnika Ghat, a major cremation site, where I knew a few people. We managed to meet over ten individuals, all eager to participate. We also met some people with wood shops at the site who asked us to return the next day. I consulted with some other friends who lived near Manikarnika Ghat about Doams, and was surprised to learn that Doams still had a king. They mentioned that nothing could be done without his permission. As it was getting dark, we decided to head home and continue our research the next day.

The following morning, we returned to Manikarnika Ghat. We spoke with many more people and asked if their children attended school. It was shocking to find that none of the people we spoke to had children in school. After talking to over 15 individuals, we decided to visit Harishchandra Ghat, another cremation site, where we spoke with many more people. We eventually met a 55-year-old man working at the electric burner at Harishchandra Ghat. His son, Raja Babu, worked for Reliance Money. We visited their home, met the family, and discussed CBC’s project with them. They agreed to participate in the documentary.

Raja Babu had an LLB degree from Banaras Hindu University and worked as an Area Manager for Reliance Money. His story was exactly what we were looking for. They explained that after Raja Babu completed fifth grade, no school would admit him due to the social stigma against Doams. Despite his father’s meager earnings as a rickshaw driver, he wanted his children to be educated. When no school would accept Raja Babu, he continued his studies independently. Eventually, Raja Babu began working as a helper at a doctor’s clinic, where he received training and financial support.

When a wealthy and respected person from Varanasi passed away and his family needed to arrange the cremation, Raja Babu’s uncle, who was working at Harishchandra Ghat, requested that Raja Babu be admitted to school instead of asking for money. The family agreed, and Raja Babu was admitted to Bengali Tola Inter College. Despite facing discrimination, he completed his 12th grade and later pursued a BA, MA, and LLB from BHU. After working for an American NGO called Cash for India, he joined Reliance Money. Raja Babu’s journey was compelling, and we decided to feature him in the documentary.

The next day, we visited the Doam Raja, the king of the Doam community. His home was unconventional—food was cooked using the wood left from cremations, and the house had a peculiar smell. He had a large family and several animals, and he was notably intoxicated when we arrived. Despite the challenging conditions, he agreed to grant permission for filming at Manikarnika and Harishchandra Ghats. On his roof, we saw two tiger statues, which were part of a local legend. It was said that the Doam Raja and the Maharaja of Benares were never friends. The Doam Raja had a tiger statue erected facing the Maharaja’s palace, which displeased the Maharaja.

The case ended with a court ruling requiring the Doam Raja to either remove the statue or build another one facing the opposite direction. The Doam Raja chose to erect a second statue facing away from the first one. With all the necessary permissions and characters in place, the CBC team was ready to proceed with their documentary project.

History of Coca-Cola in India

Coca-Cola first entered India in 1956, operating with 100% foreign equity due to the lack of a foreign exchange act at that time. The Indian Foreign Exchange Regulation Act was introduced in 1973 during Indira Gandhi’s tenure. This act required foreign companies selling consumer goods in India to invest 40% of their equity in Indian associates. Although Coca-Cola agreed to invest 40% of its equity in India, it insisted on retaining full control over technical and administrative functions, excluding local participation.

This stance conflicted with the foreign exchange act. Consequently, the government instructed Coca-Cola to either revise its plan or exit the country. In 1976, Indira Gandhi called for elections, leading to the formation of a unified opposition under the Janata Party. The Janata Party came to power in 1977 and demanded that Coca-Cola either comply with the foreign exchange act or leave India. Coca-Cola chose to leave that year.

Following Coca-Cola’s departure, George Fernandes commented:
“Coke had 100% equity in India. Their investment was minimal—Rs. 6,00,000, equivalent to less than $20,000 at the time. From this investment, they repatriated an estimated 250 million rupees (about $8 million) in profit over twenty years.”

In 1993, Coca-Cola re-entered the Indian market, benefiting from new liberalization policies. The revised foreign exchange regulations allowed for up to 51% foreign equity and provided automatic approval for technology agreements in high-priority industries. Foreign investors and companies could now hold up to 100% equity in these sectors, with greater freedom for repatriating capital.

In 1999, Coca-Cola acquired Parle, India’s leading soft drink brand, which included popular beverages like Thums Up, Limca, and Gold Spot. Prior to the re-entry of Coca-Cola and Pepsi, over 50 Indian soft drink brands had emerged, and 200 production plants had been established. However, as Coca-Cola and Pepsi gained market dominance, many indigenous drinks disappeared, and the demand for healthier options declined.

London Law Researcher studies Coca-Cola in Mehdiganj

I worked with a law researcher from the University of London as both an assistant and translator. He was interested in the legal aspects of the Coca-Cola issue. Having lived in India for over a year, he knew some Hindi, but not well enough to conduct interviews on his own. He is the president of an NGO called Glocality International, which has offices in London and New Delhi. I worked with him for three days in Varanasi.

Tyler was also involved in some high-profile international law cases. For instance, he and a colleague had sued seven Chinese ministers, including the President and Prime Minister, for the deaths of over a million people in Tibet. He explained that the case was registered in Spain because no other country was willing to accept a case against the Chinese government in their courts.

During our time together, we interviewed numerous villagers, Nandlal Master, and several government officials, including the Regional Pollution Control Officer, Ground Water Authority officials, and District Village Committee officers. Tyler was particularly impressed with how Nandlal and his team were leading their movement. Given that Tyler had only three days and wanted to maximize his interviews, we spent one night at Lok Samiti’s office to speak with Nandlal and his colleagues.

We encountered difficulties with the Regional Pollution Control Officer, who believed his English was sufficient to communicate with Tyler, despite Tyler’s advance notice that I would be assisting. The officer often misunderstood Tyler’s questions but remained overly confident in his responses, attempting to obscure the issues. Tyler was determined to gather as much information as possible.

The situation escalated when Tyler used a voice recorder without informing the officer, leading to a heated exchange. The officer, upon discovering the recording, became hostile and threatened us with police intervention. Tyler responded by stating that he would sue the Pollution Control Department in the Supreme Court of India for corruption related to the Coca-Cola issue. He warned that if the Supreme Court confirmed the corruption, the officers could face jail time, which only intensified the officer’s anger.

Eventually, we left the office, laughing about the tense encounter with the irate officer. It was quite amusing to see a PCS officer so angry but unable to act against us. In contrast, the District Village Committee Officer was very engaged and eager to discuss the Coca-Cola issue. He shared extensive information about the situation and the role of Village Committees, and he promised to provide all necessary documents and support. He was the first government official I had met who seemed genuinely interested in talking to people, possibly due to his interest in conversing with a foreigner.

Options for Studying Hindi in Varanasi

Many foreign students come to India to learn Hindi, with most of them choosing either Mussoorie or Varanasi. They often say that there are only three reputable Hindi schools in India, and Varanasi and Mussoorie receive the most attention. One student from the University of Washington, Lane Rasberry, stayed at my guest house for five months. He came to Varanasi to learn Hindi at a school called Bhasha Bharti. Lane was also interested in outsourcing chemistry research to India and conducting his PhD research with an Indian scientist. He attended classes two hours a day, five days a week, paying Rs. 200-250 per hour, which was significantly more than what I used to pay to learn English.

Initially, Lane planned to study Hindi at Bhasha Bharti for the entire duration of his stay but decided to leave after two months due to various reasons. He then began practicing Hindi on his own in the Hindi-speaking environment of my home, with assistance from my family, especially my father. Although he was still searching for a Hindi teacher, he struggled to find a suitable one. I also attempted to find a teacher but was never satisfied with the individuals who claimed to be good Hindi teachers for foreigners.

We tried several teachers, but none were able to meet the expectations of either Lane or me. One of the teachers, who was quite self-absorbed, spent more time talking about himself than actually teaching Lane. Lane also approached my English teacher, who, upon learning that Lane paid Rs. 200 per hour to Bhasha Bharti, became very eager to attract him as a student. However, I felt it was better for Lane to continue with Bhasha Bharti if the fees were the same. I decided to stop visiting the English teacher to avoid the pressure of convincing Lane to switch.

By the time Lane left, his Hindi was sufficiently good for him to express his feelings. He could understand better than he could speak, and while I had no trouble understanding his Hindi, he still needed considerable practice. I wasn’t sure if he would be able to practice Hindi effectively once back in the US. Lane mentioned Skype as a potential tool to help him practice his Hindi, and I thought it was a great idea. I planned to continue communicating with him in Hindi through Skype to support his practice.