Tag Archives: research assistant

work with e3 Foundation, Texas

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I got to work with a non profit organization called e3 Foundation from Texas. Their project was very interesting. They were making a documentary about religion and what it means to people. It was a series of documentaries which was based in three different countries. They wanted to make one episode about Hindu religion and this episode was based only in Varanasi. I was was responsible to do research, find different people who were interested in talking about what religion and God mean to them, schedule appointment for interview and do interpretation. But they did not want just anyone, they wanted each person to be different from other so that there is diversity in the show.

It didn’t really take me much time to organize it as I already knew many interesting people. I think my interest in people helped me a lot here. There is a public call booth at Assi crossing which is owned by my friend’s uncle. I always found him different from others because whenever we were sitting next to his shop, he would usually come and stay close to us so he could hear what we were talking. Sometimes he also became part of our discussion. Only a few days before e3 contacted me, the show owner, friend’s uncle, had shown me his diary. His diary was full of poetries written by him.

These poetries were basically about his life, his religious practices, the way regular people practice religion, the world and questions about religion and God. It was really impressive. He had told me once that people who are not curious and do not question things are just like animals. Because the God has given us mind and we need to use it. His another writing which impressed was – Are we really worth getting blessings of God? I was really impressed with his writings. And when I was thinking about right people for the show, he immediately clicked in my mind.

And when I asked him if he would like to be interviewed, he was so happy and agreed on getting interviewed. I took e3 to Kashi Labh Mukti Bhawan also where we interviewed the manager about the idea of death in Hinduism. We also filmed a family who had brought their mother to die a Varanasi. We filmed evening and morning rituals as well at Mukti Bhawan. It was again very intense experience translating the manager, because he loves talking and talks too much and the atmosphere at Mukti Bhawan. Anyways, it went very well.

I introduced the director to a boat rower also who is known for his singing skills. He writes his own songs and most of them are religious. He loves singing his songs when he is rowing the boat and his voice is really beautiful. This interview was also very good and interesting. Other than this we interviewed a lady professor of Hindu religion and definitely her interview was very nice. Overall we did 10 interviews with different kind of people and did some regular touristic things like evening ceremony, morning boat, temples, rituals etc. It was nice working on this project because it was mostly about interviewing people and I got to listen a lot which is always a nice experience for me.

Another project with VPRO

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VPRO hired me again for their documentary project called From Bihar to Bangalore. This documentary project was bigger than the last one I worked with them in 2011. The host of the show Mr. Jelle Brandt Corstius wanted to show how India changes from one city to other. I was responsible for organizing their work in Varanasi. Mr. Jelle spent 4 months studying Hindi and exploring India to prepare for the documentary. I met him about 3 months before the crew arrived in Varanasi. Mr. Jelle told me that the whole world knows Varanasi but they only one classical picture of Varanasi but he wanted to show something different.

We went to a few places which is shown in all of the documentaries about Varanasi. Apart from those regular places we went to Kashi Labh Mukti Bhawan where they allow only 15 days of stay for the people to die, we met with Mr. G. D. Agarwal and the king of Doam society. They wanted to interview one of the members of National River Ganga Basin Authority also. I suggested them to interview Mr. Rajendra Singh because I was very well aware of his honest activism for environment, especially Ganga but we could not schedule an appointment with him as he was going to be busy somewhere else during the filming time.

We decided to work with Mr. B. D. Tripathi, professor at BHU, instead of Mr. Rajendra Singh. Mr. Jelle was very much interested in the king of Doam society, the people who work at the cremation ghat. Arranging an appointment with him was kind of a pain because this person was seriously commercial. The only thing he cared about was money. VPRO wanted to film Shivratri festival in Varanasi and I arranged the filming at a temple called Tilbhandeshwar with consent of the temple management committee and Shivratri organizing committee.

Everything seemed very well organized. I knew what we were going to do and when. Everything went smoothly except filming at the Tilbhandeshwar temple and interview the king of Doam society. When we arrived at the temple to start filming, it was too crowded. We got in the temple and by the time we were going to go on the rooftop to film the preparation, a policeman stopped us. He said that filming inside the temple was not allowed. I told him that I had permission but this guy just did not want to hear anything.  One of the persons from the management committee also said that it was not problem for them but he still did not allow us.

VPRO understood that it was not my fault but it was crazy to see how this policeman behaved us. The king of the Doam society was also a crazy guy. He did not want to speak anything, his answers were too short and finally we decided not to work with him. We filmed a Sadhu also at the biggest Ashram in Varanasi which was very nice. The Sadhu was very cooperative and he invited us to join him at his personal Ganga ritual. VPRO just loved this footage. Everything went very well and finally we completed the filming in Varanasi and VPRO told me that it was one of the best episodes they had ever produced.

Work with Gilles Delmas

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Gilles Delmas is a documentary maker and an artist from France. I was introduced to him by a friend of mine from Varanasi. Actually Gilles was looking for an assistant to help him photographing in Varanasi. The theme of the photography was relationship between chair and death. He approached to my friend first but my friend had to no idea what Mr. Gilles was talking about so he brought him to me. Mr. Gilles explained me his project and since I had already worked with so many photographers and documentary makers, I just thought that this project would also be like any other project I had worked on.

I immediately agreed on working with Mr. Gilles but I had no idea how different this project was going to be:) A few really interesting things happened only in the first meeting. Actually Mr. Gilles was staying at Hotel Haifa and it is prohibited for me to enter in this hotel. Mr. Gilles asked me to meet him the next day in the hotel lobby and I told him that I cold not enter in the hotel. He asked me the reason behind it and I told him that hotel owner had told me once that it was their policy that they do not allow locals to enter in the hotel. Mr. Gilles did not tell me anything at that moment but later I got a call that he had already changed his hotel.

Mr. Gilles told me that he doesn’t like racism hence changed the hotel. I had never thought that somebody would even care about my personal problems this much. Anyways, it was really nice of him that he cared a lot about me and I really appreciate it. We met the next day and Mr. Gilles asked me to take him to the places where Sadhus or regular people live to die. I took him to several places and he chose one of them to work. Now he needed chairs which I did not understand. I asked him the reason behind this theme of relationship between chair and death.

He told me that he had always wanted to come to Varanasi to photograph death and once he was laying down with his closed eyes in Haridwar along the Ganga thinking about his project in Varanasi. When he opened his eyes, he saw a big chair in the sky with yellow and orange color and it gave him this idea that there was some kind of relationship between chair and death. He thought a lot about it and realized that it was true. He was trying to tell me things that I did not understand at all. He told me that even the people who come to die in Varanasi have to use a chair in their journey, maybe just by sitting on it waiting for a train.

I did not understand anything but at the same time things were becoming more and more interesting. I took him to several shops where they sell chairs but Mr. Gilles did not like them. At some places he did not like the way they were making the chair, at one place he did not like the children of the carpenter and at the same time he was asking me to take him to a right place. I did not know what was going on, it was kind of upsetting for me. I had no idea what was the right place for him. I kind of gave up at this moment and called the friend who had introduced him to me.

I asked him to take care of him as I felt like leaving the project. This friend came and we went to his place along the river side. I introduced my friends father to Mr. Gilles and told him that father also works as a carpenter but he usually makes boats. Mr. Gilles finally said that the father was the best person to make his chairs, big relief. We went to buy the wood and day was over today. I thought a lot of about working with Mr. Gilles and started talking about him with my western friends. They all told me that Mr. Gilles was not different at all, all the artists are same. They do things differently, they are very creative people and we should respect them.

When I met with Mr. Gilles the next day, I saw him with hair shaved. I asked him why he shaved his hair and he said that it was because he was going to start his project. He was wearing orange color jacket and it was also intentional. Actually most of the holy men and other people who come to die in Varanasi wear orange color dresses and since he was going to work with them, he also wanted to wear the same color dress. His devotion for the project made me feel like really artists are different. I realized that it was first time in my whole life when I was working with an artist. His devotion made me respect him and his project more than ever before.

Mr. Gilles had drawn pictures of several different kinds of chairs with different sizes. He needed a chair with really long legs, as long as four feet. Another chair with regular size, one chair one and half feet tall, one broken chair and three chairs as small as a match box. I was thrilled to see the idea of the chairs. The most interesting thing about the chairs were how they were going to look like. They needed to be in two colors- orange in front and yellow in the back. The space of the seat and back needed to be empty, wow. I was thinking that if someone sits on such kind of chair and get photographed then those empty spaces won’t be even visible but it was still very important for Mr. Gilles.

I told about this strange structure of the chair to my friends and they told me that the things which was not visible but still exist means a lot to artists. I was like, wow. I had never thought about such thing. Anyways, finally the chairs were prepared. They looked beautiful and different than any chair I had ever seen, even in my dreams. The chair with the long leg was so big that it would not fit in any taxi or auto so we had to hire a boat to carry them and then lift them to the photography place. Mr. Gilles had chosen one particular ashram called Machli Bandar Math which was situated near to the river and he wanted to photograph one particular Baba.

We arrived at the Ashram the next day with all of our chairs and started photographing. The tall chair was so big that the person could not even sit on it. We had to lift him up and help him getting on the chair, it was so funny. Mr. Gilles sometimes wanted the Baba to sit on the chair, some times just stand next to the chair, sometimes just look at the chair, sometimes walk towards the chair… many different poses. Mr. Gilles was super devoted for his work. Once he started photographing, it felt like he had lost connection from the world. Sometimes he would talk with himself and with the camera. His camera was also very different.

He had three cameras and all of them were roll cameras. One of them was very big in size. I asked him why he was not using a digital camera and he said that since his pictures are poster size, he could not print digital photographs in that big size. I did not know this before. We worked with the wooden chairs for three days and the fourth day something new arrived. Mr. Gilles brought chairs made of cloth. He had two chairs- one regular size and other one as big as a house. He wanted to stick the regular size one on the wall the spread the bigger one on the ground and just have the character look at it.

The big chair was so big that we had to go in a ground. He spread the chair and went on a roof top next to the ground and photographed it. The project was completed successfully but the last day was not happy day. Actually Mr. Gilles wanted to compensate the Baba for his time and we had agreed on a price but on the last day he started asking for ten times more money. I somehow handled the situation by paying the Baba from my own pocket. I did not pay him ten times more but a little bit more than we had agreed.

I think a lot about Mr. Gilles and his project and feel like I really learnt a lot. He was a gentleman and super professional person and I really look forward to work with him in future. Mr. Gilles want to come to Varanasi again for the documentary filming project and again I would love working with him.

Coca-Cola Varanasi

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I worked with a journalist named Bart Spellers from the Netherlands, who was writing an article about the Coca-Cola controversy in India. He wanted to visit the disputed Coke sites across the country, including Mehdiganj near Varanasi. I assisted him in Varanasi as his local guide and translator. I was also eager for an opportunity to visit Mehdiganj again and speak directly with the people affected by Coca-Cola’s presence, so I was glad to take this job. I accompanied Bart to Mehdiganj and arranged interviews with Nandlal Master, a few plant employees, the union leader, several women, and local farmers.

Bart wasn’t interested in conducting too many interviews—he preferred speaking to a smaller group of the right people, since he had limited time in Varanasi. I was honestly surprised to learn how little time he had allocated for this work. Given that his article was on such a controversial subject, I felt he should have spent more time in Benares to gain a deeper understanding. Still, I think he did a good job overall, because he focused on meaningful conversations with key voices.

Although I was already familiar with the issue, I was still taken aback when I spoke with the people of Mehdiganj. I had hoped the situation might have improved over the past few years, but I quickly realized it was just as bad as when I first visited four years ago. The anger against Coca-Cola and the government was still intense. Residents told us that Coca-Cola was directly responsible for the depletion of groundwater in the area, while the government continued to turn a blind eye.

They said the situation had been deteriorating year by year. Last year, rainfall was below average, yet Coca-Cola’s market share in India had grown—naturally putting even more pressure on already scarce groundwater. Nandlal Master explained that a committee formed by the Prime Minister’s Office had completed a study of the issue and submitted its report, but the findings had not been made public. This seemed strange to me.

Why not release the report if the study is already finished? According to Nandlal, he had filed an RTI request to obtain a copy. The concerned department replied that the district magistrate had been instructed to provide him with the report. That is fine, but it still raises questions: why hide it in the first place? Why wasn’t the media informed? This silence from both the government and Coca-Cola only adds to the suspicion surrounding the issue.

For now, nothing has changed. People continue to struggle, and we are left with unanswered questions. Hopefully, one day, transparency and accountability will prevail—but when, no one can say.

Finally, Bart’s article was published here:
Coca-Cola zuigt de grond leeg

Widows in Vrindavan

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I worked again with Irene, a graduate student from Ca’ Foscari University of Venice, whose research topic was Hindu widows. I had already assisted her in October 2009 in Varanasi, but this time she wanted to visit Vrindavan. She had heard a lot about the widows from Bengal who live there, and about the city’s importance for Hindu widows. Since I did not know much about Vrindavan myself, I contacted my friend Yashu, who lives there, and he kindly promised to help. In fact, he arranged everything for us — hotel, food, and even many interviews.

Irene had already heard about the Bhajan Ashrams (ashrams where chanting sessions are organized) and wanted to visit them to see if it was possible to interview the women there. I had also heard about widows working in these ashrams, but I had no idea how many there were or how large they could be. To my surprise, there seemed to be at least one in every alley, and some were extremely large, housing three to four thousand widows under the same roof. These ashrams are generally run by wealthy religious people. Each widow who chants for three hours receives Rs. 2, along with a small portion of rice and lentils.

The ashrams usually run two or three shifts a day — the first beginning around 8:00 a.m. and the last ending around 6:00 p.m. However, not just any widow can join. They must first register with the ashram, after which their chanting time is scheduled. There are thousands of widows in Vrindavan, most of them — over 90% — from Bengal. Many do not speak Hindi. Some live in government ashrams, some in private ones, some rent small rooms, while others sleep on the streets or along the Yamuna River. Over 95% make a living by working in Bhajan Ashrams and begging. Most widows chant during the day and then beg in the mornings and evenings, when pilgrims are on their way to temples.

Vrindavan, known as the “city of temples,” has nearly 5,000 temples and is considered one of Hinduism’s holiest places. Each year, hundreds of thousands of pilgrims visit. Because of the religious devotion of visitors, donations are common — which makes Vrindavan an unfortunate hub for begging. It was painful to see how many widows depended on it for survival. When we asked the widows why they chose Vrindavan instead of other sacred cities like Varanasi or Haridwar, most said that Vrindavan is particularly popular among Bengalis. However, few knew the reason behind this. One non-widow woman shared a fascinating story:

She said that long ago, two brothers worked as cashiers in a king’s palace. One day, while busy with their work, they ordered water with sugar. By mistake, the servant mixed salt instead of sugar. The brothers drank it without noticing, so absorbed were they in their work. When the servant confessed his mistake, they were astonished that they hadn’t realized the difference. This made them reflect: If they could be so devoted to their worldly duty, why not apply the same devotion to God?

The brothers abandoned material life and came to Vrindavan, then a forest, to meditate. Their devotion was so powerful that even the king came to meet them. When he offered them any reward, they only asked him to repair the broken stones at the ghat where they meditated. To the king’s shock, the ghat was made of precious stones that were rarer than anything in his own palace. Realizing their spiritual greatness, the king then offered them as much land as their eyes could see from one spot — and that land became Vrindavan. This, people say, is why Vrindavan is so popular among Bengalis.

Despite Irene’s efforts, we managed to interview only about ten women. Most did not speak Hindi, which limited communication. We also visited two government-run widow ashrams: one by the central government and one by the state of Uttar Pradesh. The central government ashram was more organized, a new building with 500–600 rooms and about 2,700 widows living there. At first, a government helper allowed us to sit and talk with the women. But soon, another official stopped us, insisting we needed permission from the district magistrate. A similar thing happened at the largest Bhajan Ashram. Finally, when we reached the state-run ashram, a kind security guard let us conduct interviews discreetly. He warned us not to let the officers find out, explaining that both officers there were corrupt.

According to him, officers steal from the widows’ pensions. They first demand Rs. 300 from each widow to issue a pension registration card, which is supposed to be free. Then they claim the pension takes a year to start, when in fact it begins within days. This way, they pocket the widows’ entire first-year pension. Even afterward, they keep half of the monthly pension for themselves. With about 300 widows in the ashram, he estimated that they steal around Rs. 90,000 every month, while also bribing higher officials to remain silent. I was shocked and saddened to hear this. How could anyone exploit poor widows who survive on Rs. 2 and a handful of grains?

It also explained why officials at the central ashram had tried to stop us from interviewing women — they didn’t want their corruption exposed. Because of these obstacles, we shifted focus to interviewing widows who lived independently. Many shared heartbreaking stories. Most were married very young, lost their husbands early, were denied education, and eventually came to Vrindavan. Some left home because their own children neglected them. A few Bengali women told us they stay in Vrindavan for 11 months, save money and grains, and then return home briefly to give everything to their children.

We also noticed cultural differences. Many Bengali widows did not strongly believe that widowhood was punishment for sins in past lives, while most North Indian widows did. Curiously, although North Indians often say Bengal discriminates most against widows, the Bengali women we spoke with did not feel this way. Perhaps, sadly, they have normalized discrimination to the point where they no longer recognize it as injustice. We asked about widow remarriage. Interestingly, older widows (around 70) supported remarriage, while younger widows (40–50) believed it was a sin. Younger widows felt that widowhood was divine punishment, and if they tried to escape it by remarrying, they would be punished further — even becoming widows again in the next life. Perhaps older widows, having faced loneliness, understood the value of companionship more deeply.

Later, we spoke with a Sanskrit scholar and katha speaker to learn what Hindu texts say about widowhood. She explained that scriptures list several causes for widowhood: disrupting another couple’s marriage, engaging in extramarital relationships, or even physical relations during the menstrual cycle. She insisted these rules applied equally to men and women. Interestingly, this also suggests that love marriages were accepted in Hinduism, since forcing someone into an unwanted marriage is condemned.

After spending time in Vrindavan and Varanasi, I reached one strong conclusion: widows who stay with their families and find some work, however small, live far happier lives than those who depend on ashrams or begging. The situation in ashrams is tragic, worsened by corruption and lack of accountability. In my view, the only real solution is education. If women are educated and skilled, they can seek employment, support themselves, and live with dignity. The question is: when will the Indian government finally take women’s education seriously?

Dying in Varanasi

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I worked with a photographer named Jane Becker from Canada, who wanted to document widows and hospices in Varanasi. Since I had previously worked with a researcher from the University of Venice studying widows in the city, I already knew the places to take her. About two years earlier, I had also assisted a researcher from the University of Berlin who was interested in people coming to Benares to spend their final days. So I had some background knowledge on the subject. We decided to begin our work with hospices and ashrams. I first took Jane to an ashram near Assi Ghat, where we interviewed a few residents and she took some photographs.

The next day, I brought her to another ashram named Mumukshu Bhawan where more than 2,000 people live out the last stage of their lives. This ashram has separate sections—one for Sanyasis (renunciants) and another for families. The place was vast, filled with residents, and even housed a Sanskrit school. Although we visited, Jane did not photograph there. On the following day, we went to Kashi Mukti Bhawan, which was unlike any other place in Varanasi. The city has many hospices and ashrams where people stay to die, but this place was truly unique.

Kashi Mukti Bhawan is owned by the Dalmia family. The story behind its foundation is that when Mr. Dalmia once visited Varanasi, he noticed the large number of ashrams where people came to spend their final days. His grandmother also wished to spend her last days in the city. Inspired by this, he decided to build a free hospice for those who wanted to die in Varanasi. What makes Kashi Mukti Bhawan unusual is its rule: residents are allowed to stay for only 14 days. This may sound strict, but most people who come here are already in their final moments. The hospice does not admit anyone below the age of 60 or those who do not appear to be close to death.

The building has ten rooms, but during my visit, only one was occupied while the rest were vacant. There is also a temple inside where rituals are performed daily. The manager explained that until about four years ago, prayers were conducted 24 hours a day. However, as fewer people now come, the hours were reduced. In the past, all ten rooms would be full, but today there may be only one or two residents—or sometimes none at all. If a person is dying at Kashi Mukti Bhawan, a priest from the temple recites verses from the Ram Charit Manas for them four times a day, at least for five minutes each time. The belief is that hearing these sacred chants helps the dying soul attain salvation.

We interviewed a woman who had brought her father all the way from Sasaram, Bihar, so that he could die in Varanasi and achieve liberation. When asked why she chose Kashi Mukti Bhawan specifically, instead of another ashram, she explained that it was a family tradition—her relatives had also passed away here. She believed that not only was dying in Varanasi important, but that Kashi Mukti Bhawan offered the most ideal atmosphere, with constant chanting and spiritual rituals.

We also asked the manager why the stay was limited to 14 days. He explained that in most cases, two weeks is sufficient for someone in their final stage of life. In rare situations, if the person survives beyond 14 days but is still gravely ill, they may be allowed to stay for another week or two. Interestingly, he mentioned that there have even been cases where people came expecting to die, but instead recovered and returned home.

Overall, Kashi Mukti Bhawan felt profoundly different from the other ashrams in Varanasi, and I am eager to learn more about it.

Widows in Varanasi

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I worked with a student named Irine from the University of Venice who wanted to study widows in Varanasi, focusing specifically on the issue of prostitution among widows in widow ashrams. She explained that her interest was sparked by the film *Water*. Although I found the subject compelling, I was initially uncertain about finding widows to interview about prostitution. Nevertheless, the topic intrigued me, so I agreed to collaborate with her. I conducted some research and discovered a government-run widow ashram near my home.

Upon visiting, we found about 18 widows living at the ashram. The facility was in poor condition: while there was a garden and open space, the building itself appeared to be from the early 1900s and was not well maintained. An office staff member informed us that a wealthy pilgrim from Kolkata had once visited Varanasi, met a widow at a ghat, and was moved by her story. This encounter led him to fund the construction of the ashram, which was later handed over to the government. It is currently managed by the Department of Women Welfare for Uttar Pradesh.

This is the only government-run widow ashram in the entire state of Uttar Pradesh. The woman in charge of the office was receptive to Irine’s project and allowed us to interview the widows. The ashram is divided into two sections: one for widows who are able to care for themselves and another for those who are physically unfit. Each widow receives only Rs. 550 (US$ 12) per month from the government. We were told by both the widows and the office in charge that no government funds had been received for the past three months, leaving the widows without any financial support.

The office in charge mentioned that local donors, who regularly contribute to the ashram, are essential for the widows’ survival. Without these donations, the government stipend alone would be insufficient. It is difficult to imagine how one could survive on Rs. 550 a month. The widows who are capable of managing on their own live on the ground floor, while those who are older or in poor health reside on the first floor. The government provides each widow with a small gas stove for cooking, but they must prepare their own meals. The ashram has a kitchen where food is prepared for those who cannot cook for themselves, with the cooking done by office staff. There is also a washing machine for laundry, though I am unsure who operates it.

The rooms are spacious, with four beds in each. Irine was particularly interested in exploring the issue of prostitution among widows, but I was uncertain how to approach this sensitive topic with women who were all over 65, with some over 80. We decided to visit the ashram multiple times, building rapport with the widows and staff to see if any information might emerge. We also inquired about other widow ashrams in Varanasi and were directed to two additional locations. One was very close to my place, called Mata Anandmayi Ashram.

At Mata Anandmayi Ashram, we discovered that it primarily functions as a religious school for girls. The peon mentioned that there were over 20 widows there as well, but the manager was extremely uncooperative. He denied that they housed any widows, which was puzzling. We were unable to speak with anyone other than the rude manager and peon. We then visited Birla Ashram at Chowk, Varanasi, which was established by the Birla family. There were around 20 widows residing there, but we couldn’t speak with any of them on our first visit.

We encountered a woman who was not a widow but was staying there thanks to her IAS officer husband, who had arranged a room for her due to her religious interests. She was uncooperative and prevented us from speaking with the widows. She asked us to return after a few days as she wanted to consult someone in Kolkata first. We returned after a few days and fortunately, the woman was not present. We managed to speak with a widow, but she was busy at the time. She told us that most of the widows at Birla Ashram work as cooks in various households and that the ashram only provides them with a room.

The disparity in support and conditions between the ashrams was striking. Some widows, particularly those who were unable to work, seemed to receive little more than a place to stay. When a widow dies, the ashram informs the family; if no one comes, the body is cremated, sometimes traditionally and sometimes using an electric burner. The stories of the widows were both heartbreaking and enlightening. Many were forced to leave their homes due to harsh circumstances: some were expelled by their own children or daughters-in-law, while others chose to leave to avoid being a burden. A common thread among them was early marriage, with some married as young as 6 or 7 years old.

I met several women married at such a young age, and many lost their husbands by the time they were only 10, never having lived with them. One remarkable woman from Chennai, who was the most educated and articulate of all the widows we met, shared a particularly poignant story. Married at seven, she spent four years living with her parents before moving in with her husband at eleven, only to be separated from him for a year due to family traditions. After her husband’s death, she lived with her parents and later with her sister. Feeling like a burden, she initially came to Varanasi to commit suicide but was saved by a boat rower and sent to the ashram. Her story was deeply moving and highlighted her resilience.

She described South Indian widow traditions, which differ somewhat from North Indian practices. For instance, after a husband’s death, a South Indian widow’s head is shaved, and she is separated from others while sarees are thrown at her from a distance. In South India, widows are permitted to wear either white or red sarees, whereas in North India, only white is allowed. The practice of throwing sarees is not something I have heard of in North India, but considering the conditions faced by widows, it’s not entirely inconceivable.

When we asked all the widows why someone becomes a widow, they all agreed with the belief that it is due to some sin from their past life. However, they felt that the sins of widowers are not as severe. Widows are expected to follow stringent rules, such as abstaining from tasty food, not interacting with men, not going out, not wearing colorful clothes, and avoiding celebrations. Most widows believed these restrictions were necessary to atone for their sins and avoid punishment in the afterlife.

Regarding remarriage, only a few widows felt it was acceptable; most viewed contemporary widows who remarry or dress in colorful clothes negatively. The general sentiment was that widows should adhere strictly to traditional practices. The prevailing view among the widows was that they were marginalized and discriminated against, particularly in Varanasi. They are often excluded from weddings and considered bad luck. It is disheartening to see such practices, which seem disconnected from the core values of Hinduism, which I believe should emphasize equality and respect for all individuals.

This experience has taught me a great deal. The systemic issues and historical practices that have contributed to the plight of women in India are profound. While education is crucial for addressing these problems, the current state of educational and social reform suggests that change may be slow. It is clear that addressing these deep-seated issues requires not only better education but also comprehensive social and policy reforms.

Tawayaf culture

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I am currently hosting a Fulbright scholar named Megan, who is conducting research for the University of Pittsburgh. Her research focuses on the tawayaf culture. She has rented an entire flat and will be staying with us until June 2010. We have discussed various aspects of tawayaf culture in Varanasi. While I was aware that Lucknow was the most renowned center for tawayafs, Megan mentioned that the tawayaf culture in Varanasi has virtually disappeared. However, after speaking with a few friends and relatives, I learned that there are still some places where tawayafs perform.

Many people mistakenly believe that tawayafs were merely prostitutes, but this is far from the truth. Tawayafs were highly educated women, trained in various skills such as dancing, singing, and literature, and were well-respected in society. My friend Ravi told me that children from royal families were sent to tawayafs for training in behavior, ghazal writing, and other skills. The residence of tawayafs was known as a “kotha,” which is now commonly misinterpreted as a brothel, but this is not accurate. Kothas were actually places where tawayafs lived and performed.

Typically, a kotha would house multiple tawayafs, with one senior tawayaf serving as the head. The head was responsible for training the other tawayafs. Kothas often hosted dance performances every evening that were open to the public. They employed male musicians who played various instruments, while the tawayafs performed dances. Alcohol was served to special clients or occasionally to all attendees. While sex work was also part of the kotha’s activities, it was not comparable to today’s brothels where one can pay a minimal amount for sexual services.

Tawayafs were expensive, and it is said that they had the right to choose their clients. They usually had one special client with whom they maintained a significant relationship, which was quite different from the typical sex work-client relationship. Tawayafs also had children, and this special client often acted as a father figure to the children. Tawayafs were invited to perform at palaces and entertain royal families. From what I have learned, tawayafs were accepted and respected in society, although kothas themselves were still viewed with disdain.

Information about tawayafs is limited, but I have heard that there are still a few kothas operating illegally in Varanasi and Lucknow. Megan’s research on tawayafs is fascinating, but she has expressed a growing interest in studying modern sex workers due to the limited information available on tawayafs. I am eager to learn more about tawayafs and look forward to seeing what insights Megan’s thesis might offer.

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Research with laborers and construction workers

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Adam has previously visited Varanasi to study Hindi. During this visit, he wanted to speak with construction workers, including those who work independently, those employed by agencies, those under contractors, and those working for the government. I noticed a construction site in my neighborhood and thought it would be a good opportunity to talk to some workers there, so I took Adam along and we spoke with two of them. Adam asked them several questions, but what intrigued me most was their response about training for laborers.

Adam inquired if they knew of any places in Benares where training is provided to laborers or skilled workers, and they mentioned a government training center in Chunar. However, neither of the workers had attended the center, nor were they interested in going. When asked why, they explained that, as they are poor, they prefer to work and earn money rather than stay somewhere without earning. They find it more practical to learn on the job while making some income. Both workers said that nearly all laborers start by carrying bricks or assisting skilled workers at construction sites, eventually becoming skilled laborers themselves.

None of them were satisfied with their earnings. They mentioned that laborers make only Rs. 120 ($2.50) per day, while skilled workers earn about Rs. 200 ($4) per day, which seems quite inadequate considering the rising cost of living in India. Additionally, when working under a contractor, they often receive even less because the contractor takes a cut. The workers also noted that most laborers in Benares are from Bihar or nearby villages. Adam asked about compensation for medical expenses in case of an injury. They said that, typically, contractors pressure the landowner to cover medical costs.

If the landowner agrees, they pay; otherwise, the contractor handles it. However, workers usually face difficulties getting any additional support from either the contractor or the landowner. Another interesting point was their explanation of why women are not often skilled laborers in India. They mentioned that skilled labor work can be risky, such as climbing scaffolding supported only by bamboo. I find it puzzling because Indian women often engage in risky activities like cooking over kerosene stoves, which can lead to accidents like LPG cylinder explosions. Women also face risks from forced marriages and dowry harassment, which seem more dangerous than climbing scaffolding.

Adam is also looking to speak with contractors. I know a few in my area and will introduce them to him. Additionally, Adam needed a recommendation letter from the Varanasi Development Authority (VDA) to facilitate his grant approval. We visited the VDA office, where an officer directed us to meet with the VDA Chairman. The following day, we met the Chairman and discussed Adam’s research. Although the VDA doesn’t engage heavily in construction due to limited funds, the Chairman agreed to provide the recommendation letter. Adam drafted the letter as requested, and the Chairman asked his typist to type it up. It took over an hour to type just one page, but we eventually received the important document.

The VDA also promised to offer any future assistance Adam might need, which was surprising as it’s uncommon for us to expect government help. Regardless, we secured what we needed, which is what truly matters.

Research on secular philosophers and cremationists

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Adam, a PhD candidate at the University of Chicago, returned to Benares and stayed at my place again. This year, he aimed to conduct preliminary research for his upcoming study in India. Although he wanted to study Hindi, he had decided to go to Mussoorie for that purpose. Adam was interested in two main subjects: laborers at construction sites and Doams (the individuals who work at cremation sites). Accompanying him this year was his fiancée, Megan, who is conducting research for her school, Smith College, in Boston, on secular Indian philosophers. She was looking to gather data on philosophers active between 1850 and 1940.

Megan had initially gone to the University of Mysore but had not found any useful resources due to a lack of assistance. Frustrated, she left Mysore and came to Benares with hopes of better luck at BHU. She wanted to visit the BHU library and consult with professors from the philosophy department. I enlisted the help of a friend from BHU, who guided us through the university. Our first stop was the International Students Center, where we met an officer who directed us to the head of the central library.

When we met with the head of the library, both Adam and Megan were impressed by the facilities at BHU, noting that the library was far superior to that of the University of Mysore. They praised the helpfulness of the staff at BHU. Megan was asked to write a formal request for permission to use the library, and after submitting it, we were granted access to the books. We toured the library with a few staff members who showed us around. Megan found several valuable books for her research, but unfortunately, the books were too old and fragile to be photocopied.

Instead, she had to request digital copies. The library staff asked us to return in five days to collect the digital formats. Afterward, we visited the philosophy department and met a professor who was more interested in showcasing his own work than in discussing Megan’s research. He spent an hour talking about his books before finally asking what Megan needed. She explained her research, and he suggested she return the next day to explore the philosophy department’s library, which he claimed contained relevant books.

Returning home, Megan felt positive about the day’s progress, especially after the promising experience at BHU, which contrasted sharply with her frustrating visit to the University of Mysore. I was pleased for Megan’s successful research day. Adam, meanwhile, wanted to interview a Doam, so I took him to Harishchandra Ghat and introduced him to a contact I had met while working on CBC’s documentary *Myths and Might*. We met at the ghat, and he took us to the electric crematorium where he worked. This was my first visit to an electric burner, and it turned out to be the perfect setting for Adam’s interview.

Over the next few hours, Adam and Megan asked the Doam various questions about his personal life, social status, and experiences of discrimination. To show his appreciation, Adam wanted to give a gift, so I asked the Doam about the nearest sweet shop. The Doam explained that they preferred alcohol over sweets, so we ended up buying him a bottle of whiskey instead.