From Jewish healing to India's Jerusalem

After my last entry, I had the most bizarre Shabbat dinner of my entire life. I went back to the Pardesi synagogue in Jewtown, where there was only one woman and 4 men. Coincidentally, and really strangely, one of the men was a white guy from Beachwood, Ohio, who apparently runs some business from India and has been living in Cochin. He was carrying a bag from the Cleveland Clinic, which provided a strong clue to start playing the Jewish geography game. Also turns out one of his daughters was at Brandeis the same time as me, and I went to elementary school with his nephew. That was an auspicious and wacky way to start Shabbat, and then I went to dinner at an Indian couple's home, Yosef and Yosefa. They are both Bene Israel Jews, not actual Cochini Jews, but as far as I'm concerned, they count as Cochini Jews because, well, they are Jews, in Cochin. Yosefa grew up in Israel, but in an Indian community. They are both fluent in Hebrew, Marathi, Hindi, and English, and also some Malayalam, the language of Kerala.

Yosef is a holistic doctor who combines traditional Indian medicine with Jewish mystical healing. The house is full of Kabalistic symbols and yud-hey-vav-hey (most sacred name of God) signs, and tons of books on natural medicine, meditation, alternative therapies, etc. I told him about my interest in reiki- his variation to the long distance healing done with symbols in reiki is to place photos of his patients inside of a speaker box playing an mp3 of the entire book of psalms, and he boasts very good results. He tried to guess my zodiac sign, at first thinking Capricorn- I told him I'm a Virgo and asked why he thought Capricorn- he said because Capricorns are the most beautiful. Good save, doc. Then he diagnosed my health status based on that, and recommended a regimen of food to correct it. Virgos suffer from digestive problems, lower back pain, and pain in the right leg. Well, two out of three ain't bad. No white flour, 5 liters of water a day, only raw nuts, lots of fresh and dried fruit.

Then I told him that more than any of those, headaches are my biggest problem. He nodded knowingly and said, "I have a cure for you, but you won't do it." Obviously that piqued my interest, so he explained that I should drink my own urine, working my way up from a diluted mixture to the full concentration, and drinking this every morning for a year would absolutely remove all of my headaches, and keep me just as young and healthy and beautiful as I am now. Besides Hindus drinking cow urine, he pointed out that this is even mentioned in the Talmud, and Rambam himself drank his own piss. Ummmmmmm we'll see. I suppose the reasoning makes some sense- that the body has a certain vibration, and blockages in that cause pain and disease, so taking urine to balance out the vibrations and clear blockages is the best way to heal.

He also told me about Zodiac love matches (apparently two Virgos aren't such a disaster after all, which is good news for me and the Benj), so anyone wanting to know about their match potential, let me know and I'll pass on the info for the good doctor. All in all, a fascinating night.

Saturday before the break of dawn left for the airport to get to Varanasi- from leaving the hotel in Cochin to settling down in Varanasi was a travel time of 15 hours! Varanasi has a tiny airport- only one baggage claim, and it's just a straight conveyer belt, not a loop. And the power went out. This was a harbinger of a recurring theme to come. Everyone has warned of scams and touts in this city, so I was careful about choosing a taxi but was won over by Tariq, a hotelier with striking green eyes. We shared a taxi with an Indian father and son, and discussed the racial tensions in the US versus caste issues here- our affirmative action, their low caste reservations. The son referred to Martin Luther King Jr. as America's Gandhi, I liked that. So interesting to have these conversations, but kind of daunting to know that they are judging all of my country based on what I say.

The streets of Varanasi were flooded with muddy water from the rains- not even the monsoon here yet, and already flooded roads- bicycles were submerged 1/3 of the way up the wheels, people were wading through water holding their shoes above their head. Quite the first impression- the city has absolutely crappy roads, very dirty and busy and bustling, not so different from Bombay, just less crowded (but feels like not by much). Cows, goats, dogs, all the usual characters, plus cycle rickshaws with elaborate decorations on their convertible tops. Finally found a decent hotel outside of the Old City- within its bounds, the alleys flood and are pretty filthy, and all the hotels I saw were exceptionally cruddy. I kinda think that Varanasi is very nasty. The Hotel Buddha, where we ended up, is really nice- even with a balcony, room service, and a tv, for 400 rupees a night (about $10). Benji's bus from Nepal got in around 8, and we reunited after a month apart. :-)

Yesterday we ventured out to the ghats- the stairs leading down to the Holy Ganga. Walking there I felt the same sort of excitement as the first time I visited the Kotel, the Western Wall in Jerusalem. Like Jerusalem, there is an Old City full of tiny lanes and alleys with water channels for draining. Like Jerusalem, the religious are distinguishable by garb: white or orange dhotis and robes, and string sash tied around Brahmins (the priestly caste, highest of the ranks). Like Jerusalem, there is a distinctive hairstyle for the religious as well: sadhus (holy men/ascetics) have incredible dreadlocks, and other devotees wear the hair closely shorn except for a tuft at the back, which is meant to provide a hook for the gods to hold when they are plucked up to heaven. Like Jerusalem, it is very auspicious to die in the city. Like Jerusalem, an object is worshipped and honored as something divine itself, practically like the Kotel. And like Jerusalem, stone stairs everywhere give a feeling of an ancient time past, but still carrying on.

At the Ganges, I found the water to be a lot less polluted than I expected, although officially it's still considered fetid. The Mahim creek in Bombay looks, and smells, MUCH worse. Still, people bathe, swim, boat, fish, wash clothes and more in the river. I was surprised that I handled the cremation ghat as well as I did- it's just such a part of the way of life here. The bodies are carried to the river on a bamboo stretcher wrapped in cloths, dipped into the Ganga, and then set on the funeral pyre. The fire is supposed to purify the soul before it passes on to heaven. Children under 10, pregnant women, sadhus (holy men), those bitten by snakes (a sign of Shiva) , and lepers are not burned, they are just released into the Ganges.

At 7:00 every evening, an aarti (worship/offering) is performed on a small stages all lit up with flood lights and Christmas lights hung to look like umbrellas. Hindu priests on each stage perform the very stylized ritual of circling around with incense, oil lamps, feather tails, and other holy symbols as an offering to Maa Ganga herself, giver of life to Hindus. Amplified music accompanies- tabla and harmonium, and devotional singing. We managed to snag seats on a balcony between rich pilgrims and Brahmin priests, who were able to describe all the different stages of the ritual. Beautiful, intense, sensory overload.

Today we left at 5am for a dawn boat ride on the Ganges, where we saw hundreds of people performing morning sun pujas, doing laundry, and swimming. (At the internet cafe, just now an old man is pulling himself across the floor because his legs are too weak to stand upon, into the family home behind the storefront. This is India.) At dawn the city looked truly beautiful and sacred, but as soon as we left the Old City and went out to the large Hindu university and other temples and silk looms, we were taken out of the holy space into a typical crowded, dirty Indian city. Such dichotomy and juxtaposition, but again, this is India. Especially.

This evening we had a private music performance at the shop of a rather charismatic gentlemen who kept on telling us how "amezing amezing is the music, good feeling for in your hearts isn't it, music is connection between peoples of my country and your country, amezing amezing." Video of the performance on YouTube soon.

Tomorrow we'll visit Sarnath, a few km away, where the Buddha gave his first sermon after reaching enlightenment. And tomorrow night, on to Agra. Taj Mahal, here I come!