Tawayaf culture in Varanasi

An anthropology student from the University of Pittsburgh, USA, named Megan contacted me recently. She was referred by my friend Adam Sergent, an anthropology student from the University of Chicago, who had stayed at my guest house a month ago while learning Hindi in Varanasi. Megan is currently in her fourth year of research, focusing on Tawayaf culture, sex work, and HIV. Adam had mentioned my NGO to her, and she was interested in learning about my experiences working with these issues. I was intrigued by her interest in Tawayaf culture; while I had some knowledge about them, I hadn’t delved deeply into their world before.

This has sparked my curiosity, and I plan to research more about them. Megan mentioned that she was already collaborating with an NGO in Varanasi that works with sex workers but wanted to expand her contacts to other cities as well. I provided her with information about a few NGOs in Azamgarh and Mau that I am familiar with. She also requested a written document confirming her work with sex workers, Tawayafs, and HIV in Varanasi, which she needs to secure funding from her university. I will consult with my legal advisor to see if I can assist her with this request.

We had an extensive discussion about our respective experiences, and we’ve agreed to collaborate in the future. I’m looking forward to working together and supporting her important research.

Kamasutra

While waiting for my train at Delhi railway station, I met an intriguing 85-year-old man named Lance Dane. I had arrived at the station about two hours before my train’s departure, and Lance took a seat next to me. We struck up a conversation, and I was fascinated to learn that he was a specialist in coins and had authored over 40 books on the Kamasutra. His father was Indian, his mother British, and he was born in South India. He grew up in India and speaks fluent Kannada and Hindi. It was remarkable to meet someone with such expertise in Kamasutra.

Curious, I asked him many questions about the Kamasutra. He explained that the Kamasutra temples are not just about depicting various sexual positions but encompass a comprehensive view of human life. This matched what my brother had previously told me, and it reinforced my understanding. Lance shared detailed information about different Kamasutra temples across India. He also discussed the Nepali temple in Varanasi, which features some Kamasutra sculptures. According to him, this temple is relatively new and has been influenced by the Kamasutra temples in South India and Khajuraho.

Lance was traveling to Varanasi to attend a conference on the Art and Archaeology of Kashi (Varanasi), where he was invited as a chief guest. I expressed my interest in the conference, and he kindly extended an invitation to me. He took my mobile number and promised to call me the next morning. True to his word, he called after reaching Varanasi to confirm the invitation. It was a wonderful opportunity to learn so much about my own city from someone with such deep knowledge.

Chicago guest learns Hindi

An anthropology student named Adam Sergent from the University of Chicago stayed at my guest house for a month. Like Lane and Dave, Adam wanted to learn Hindi with Bhasha Bharti. Although he had initially intended to study Hindi with Bhasha Bharti for three months, he had to adjust his plans. Bhasha Bharti didn’t have the availability for a full three months, so Adam decided to study in Varanasi for a month before moving to Mussoorie for the remaining two months. Adam had previously studied Hindi with Virendra Singh at Wisconsin University, so his proficiency was moderate.

When I asked why he wasn’t continuing with Virendra Singh in Varanasi, he explained that Virendra Singh spends summers in the U.S. teaching at Wisconsin University and only returns to India for the winter sessions. Adam attended classes at Bhasha Bharti for six hours a day, but found the schedule inconvenient, with classes from 8 to 11 in the morning and 4 to 7 in the evening. After about 15 days, he decided to leave early to conduct research related to his future work in India. He was pursuing a PhD at the University of Chicago with a focus on labor at construction sites.

Adam had a positive experience learning Hindi at Bhasha Bharti, although he had some minor complaints about the classroom environment. He noted that his chair was positioned under a fan, causing dust to fall on him regularly. Despite these issues, he was generally satisfied with his time there. He then traveled to Delhi to observe construction sites for his research. He provided my brother’s contact information in Delhi for local assistance. Unfortunately, after spending just two days in Delhi and sampling the local food, Adam fell ill. He was hospitalized for three days and received four drips. This experience made me question the quality of Delhi’s food, as I also had problems during my last visit there.

Adam managed to reach Mussoorie to continue his Hindi studies at a local school, with accommodation arranged through the school. However, upon arrival, he found the door to his lodging locked. The house owner informed him that they had relocated to Dehradun for the month and could not host him.

Adam reached out to me for assistance in finding alternative housing in Mussoorie. I contacted a friend in Dehradun who helped locate a new place, but by the time it was found, Adam had already secured alternative accommodation. Due to a family issue, Adam decided to cancel his Hindi classes and leave Mussoorie earlier than planned.

Research on death in Varanasi

A German girl named Sophia reached out to me on Couchsurfing, inquiring about Hindi classes in Varanasi. At the time, I had a tenant named Dave from the US who was learning Hindi with Professor Virendra Singh, so I introduced Sophia to him. Sophia was conducting anthropology research for the University of Berlin and was interested in the lives of people who come to Varanasi to die. I took her to a place where Sadhus come to spend their final days and translated the interview for her. Sophia was thrilled to understand the people, thanks to my translations.

She asked if I could work as her translator for the next few days. I was excited about the opportunity but was concerned about my prior commitment to Amanda, another student from Yale University, who was scheduled to visit Varanasi soon for research related to Coca-Cola. We agreed that I would work with Sophia first, and if Amanda arrived, I would assist her. We visited three monasteries: Machali Bandar Math, Mumukshu Bhavan, and Kashi Labh Mukti Bhavan. All these monasteries are for individuals who come to Varanasi to die, but they differ slightly in their focus.

Machali Bandar Math only permits Sadhus and Sanyasis, Mumukshu Bhavan accommodates both Sadhus and non-Sadhus, including families, and Kashi Mukti Bhavan is a short-stay place for the seriously ill. People at Kashi Mukti Bhavan do not stay long-term. During our visit to Mumukshu Bhavan, we encountered a woman who had been there for 30 years, waiting for her death. She had come to Varanasi with her husband, who died after two years, but she continued to wait. Despite her lengthy wait, she was cheerful and felt that dying in Varanasi was her ultimate wish. She prayed daily for her death to come in Varanasi, believing it was the best possible end.

We also visited two Aghor monasteries: Kina Ram and Bhagwan Avdhoot Ram Ashram. Sophia was particularly interested in the ash used by Aghoris. We learned that they use it for protection against diseases and other issues, believing its efficacy depends on faith. They carry the ash with them during travel to use daily, even when away from the monastery. At Kina Ram Monastery, there is a fire that has been burning continuously for hundreds of years. They use wood from cremation sites for this fire, a practice rooted in religious significance, though I didn’t fully understand why. Cremation sites hold great importance for Aghoris, who perform many rituals there, including special pujas during Diwali.

The second monastery, Bhagwan Avdhoot Ram Ashram, is listed in The Guinness Book of World Records for treating the highest number of leprosy patients. They operate an Ayurvedic hospital for leprosy, a school for street children, a library, a research center, and a press that publishes Aghora books. Founded in 1962 by Aghor guru Bhagwan Avdhoot Ram, the monastery also organizes group weddings to avoid the wastefulness of traditional ceremonies. Attending one of these weddings was enlightening, as Aghor followers’ philosophy differs from mainstream Hinduism, particularly in rejecting casteism.

I was surprised to see a Kshatriya serving as the priest, and when I asked, they explained that anyone who studies religion or Sanskrit can become a Brahmin. I was impressed by their inclusiveness. We also visited Mother Teresa’s home in Varanasi to interview people. The environment was warm and compassionate. Although run by Catholics, the institution allows residents to practice their own religions and provides both vegetarian and non-vegetarian meals. I admired the dedication of the nuns there.

We interviewed some Doams working at the cremation sites. They explained that babies, pregnant women, leprosy patients, Sadhus, and those bitten by snakes are not cremated but are instead immersed in the river. Doams often drink and smoke, and they even asked Sophia to buy them whiskey. They said that drinking helps them cope with the difficulties of their job, as cremating bodies is emotionally taxing. They also shared the belief behind why people come to Varanasi to die.

According to them, when Shiva left Varanasi, he made Vishnu promise to whisper the name of Ram into the ears of those dying in Varanasi. Hearing Ram’s name at the moment of death is believed to lead to liberation. They explained that although Shiva now resides on Kailash, Varanasi remains on his trident, reinforcing its significance. We finally visited Lali Baba, a notable Aghori baba. Sophia was eager to spend time alone at his monastery to observe his daily routine. She was thrilled to meet Lali Baba, remarking that despite his commercial nature, it was a worthwhile experience. I also found Lali Baba fascinating.

Soon after, Amanda arrived, and I had to switch my focus to work with her.

Hindi Classes Varanasi

A 61-year-old scientist named Dave from Fresno, USA, came to stay at my guest house for a month. He wanted to learn Hindi with Bhasha Bharti, as he had developed a strong passion for the language. Dave had spent about three years in Madhya Pradesh, India, working for the US Peace Corps in the 1960s. His Hindi was quite impressive, far surpassing the skills of many who take Hindi classes for months. He had scheduled his classes from the US, confident that there would be a suitable instructor available in Varanasi. However, upon arriving in Varanasi, Dave received a message from Bhasha Bharti stating that his classes had been canceled.

He wrote to them asking for an explanation but never received a reply. We visited Bhasha Bharti together to request that they accommodate Dave, but they showed no interest. Dave was disheartened, unsure of how to spend the next month in India. Eventually, he decided to revisit the village where he had previously worked with the US Peace Corps. Meanwhile, I inquired about other Hindi classes in Varanasi and discovered a professor named Prof. Virendra Singh, who teaches Hindi at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.

We approached him to see if he could provide lessons for Dave. Professor Singh was very accommodating and agreed to teach Dave for one hour each day. Although Dave had hoped for at least 4 or 5 hours of instruction daily, Mr. Singh was unable to commit more time due to his existing obligations with students from Wisconsin University. Nonetheless, it was better than nothing. I was relieved that Dave found a professor. I asked Dave about Professor Singh’s teaching abilities, and he praised him highly, saying that Singh was the best Hindi professor he had ever encountered. I was also very impressed with Professor Singh.

Financial Times article on Untouchables

I worked with Mr. Jo Johnson, the South Asia Bureau Chief of the Financial Times, as a local assistant and translator. He was accompanied by a photographer named Tom Pietrasik. They were in search of 24-year-olds, particularly from the Musahar community. The age of 24 was significant because it is the typical age when Indians enter professional life. The Mushahars were of particular interest due to their status as untouchables in rural India. They survive by collecting long pepper leaves (Pipal), making bowls from them, and selling them in the market.

The Musahar community near the Coke plant had also been affected by the issues caused by the plant, making them ideal subjects for their interviews. Joseph and Tom were scheduled to arrive at Taj Hotel, Varanasi, at 11 a.m., but their flight was delayed, so I had to wait for over two hours. I finally met them at 1 p.m., and we decided to head to Mehndiganj, as we were already running late. Mr. Nandlal Master, who leads the movement against Coca-Cola in Varanasi, was supposed to meet us but had to travel to Ballia for urgent work.

He arranged for Urmila Didi to accompany us to the Mushahar village and assist with the interviews. Our first stop was a village near Mehndiganj where we interviewed a 24-year-old man. We initially met him at his farm but decided to move the interview to his home for a better understanding of his livelihood. After the interview, Tom wanted to take photographs of him. He took several pictures at the home but also wanted to capture images at his workplace. Tom meticulously adjusted angles and backgrounds, which, though professional, made the interviewee feel uncomfortable.

He confided in me that he felt like he was being treated as a spectacle, but I managed to persuade him to cooperate with Tom and Joseph’s requests. Next, we visited a Mushahar community. Although we were looking for 24-year-olds, most people didn’t know their exact birthdates. Eventually, a family pointed us to a 24-year-old woman, whom we interviewed. Tom repeated his approach of taking numerous photos, which, once again, upset both the woman and the community. Despite this, we completed our interviews for the day and returned home.

The following day, I met Tom at Assi Ghat, and we did a boat ride from Assi Ghat to Manikarnika and back. Tom took many photos and asked me about the funeral process. After the boat ride, Tom went back to his hotel, and I returned home. Later, I met them again at Taj Hotel, but they decided not to conduct any more interviews, as they were satisfied with the previous day’s work. Instead, they chose to explore the city. Tom wanted to stay an extra day in Varanasi to do more photography at the Ghats. Mr. Joseph wanted to visit the Ghats as well, so I accompanied him to Assi Ghat, where he chose to explore alone.

I left him there and went in search of a hotel for Tom. Due to the tourist season, most hotels were fully booked. After visiting more than 15 hotels, I finally found an available room near Shivala with air conditioning, and I booked it for Tom. The next day, I met Tom at his hotel at 4 a.m., and we spent over seven hours at Dashashwamedh Ghat. Tom took numerous photographs throughout the day. By the end of the day, Tom departed for Delhi, and my work with the Financial Times concluded.

Music classes in Varanasi

I hosted a tenant from Montreal for a month at my guest house. His name was Will Eizlini, but my family gave him the Indian name “Willu.” His friend Bijay had reached out to me through a Lonely Planet Forum post where someone had recommended my name. Although I still don’t know who made the recommendation, I was delighted to have a long-term tenant. Willu was interested in learning Tabla while he was in Varanasi but had no leads on a teacher, so I suggested Pandit Shivnath Mishra’s school. Although the school is renowned for its Sitar instruction, they also offer Tabla classes.

Willu works as a web developer and can work from anywhere with an Internet connection. When he asked if I had Internet access, I realized that while I had Internet in my room, it wasn’t available in the guest rooms. I had always wanted to extend Internet access throughout the house, and Willu’s arrival presented the perfect opportunity. Initially, I considered buying a Wi-Fi modem, but my service provider advised that Wi-Fi wasn’t reliable in India. Instead, I purchased a router and ran cables to all the rooms. I’m grateful to Willu for prompting me to enhance the Internet setup in my home.

Willu was pleased to be able to work remotely for his Canadian company from my guest house. It was impressive to see him earning over CAD $30 per hour while traveling. His job seemed ideal for a traveler. Willu attended Tabla classes at Shivnath Mishra’s school for three days but was dissatisfied because his Tabla teacher didn’t speak English. While his teacher didn’t need to be fluent in English, Willu hoped for someone who could effectively communicate the lessons.

During this time, there was a live performance featuring Pandit Shivnath Mishra, his son Pandit Deobrat Mishra, and Fazal Qureshi (the brother of Zakir Hussain) at Diamond Hotel, Varanasi. I was invited by Pandit Deobrat Mishra, but Willu had to pay Rs. 500 to attend. The show was spectacular, and I was particularly impressed by Fazal Qureshi’s extraordinary speed on the Tabla. Although the Sitar performance didn’t captivate me, the Tabla was mesmerizing; I had never seen anyone play with such speed before.

At the event, Willu met several Canadians who were also studying Tabla in Varanasi. They recommended Mr. Pravin Uddhav, a professor of Indian classical music at BHU (Benares Hindu University). Following their advice, we visited Mr. Uddhav’s residence on the BHU campus the next day. When Willu returned home, he was thrilled to have finally found a suitable teacher. He praised Pravin Uddhav as an excellent Tabla player with good English skills that facilitated understanding.

Willu decided to discontinue his classes with Pandit Deobrat Mishra and studied with Pravin Uddhav for the remainder of his stay. After a month in Varanasi, Willu flew to Chennai to attend a live performance by another instrument teacher (whose name I don’t recall). Despite wanting to stay longer in Varanasi, he left to catch this performance.

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.

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.