Chapter 6 Chapter 5 Day and Night of the Ganges

When I woke up in this dreamless morning, I had to calm down before I realized that I was in the wilderness, with the wind and birds singing in my ears, and the pond full of lotus flowers in front of my eyes, and I felt like I was in heaven again. When I turned my head and saw Da Xin in the halo, I almost felt dizzy.He didn't know when he woke up, and he was already chanting sutras, sitting cross-legged facing the lotus pond, with his eyes closed, like a statue of a god—is he my patron saint? I sat up quietly, hugged my knees and watched him chant sutras, with an unprecedented peace and joy in my heart.Since my father passed away, in the past ten years, I have never slept so soundly. The morning light is cool, and the creamy sun rises slowly in the sky. Everything is as beautiful as a dream.

This scene was so intimate that I had the illusion that it was not the first time I watched him chant sutras like this.It seems that this scene has long been engraved in my memory, sealed for thousands of hundreds of years, and now it is displayed in front of me again.Under the gushing morning light, his side profile is undulating and majestic. The lines from forehead, brow bone, nose to lips are very graceful. His long and curly eyelashes are black and thick. If he had such a thick head Curly long hair, how handsome. Da Xin opened his eyes at this moment, smiled at my gaze, and said softly, "Morning."

That was truly the most beautiful smile I have ever seen in my life.If a monk can also be described as beautiful, then he is really a stunning Samana. I was a little shy at how I looked at him just now, so I didn't turn my face away, got up and went to the lake to wash my face. After eating some dry food, we were on our way.Both of them are very silent, which may be a habit for him, but for me, it feels like I can finish everything I have said to a monk who is almost unfamiliar. he. He treated me so gently and tolerantly, but for some reason, I felt an inexplicable awe, like facing a god.

Not long after I walked out, I took a ride to Varanasi, and bid farewell to Daxin.At this time, he suddenly felt lost, as if he wished that he would never be able to stop the car, so that he could just walk with him all the time, until he was old.If you can live by eating and sleeping in the open, maybe I would be willing to stay by the lotus pond in the wilderness for the rest of my life and watch him chant scriptures. I turned around and greedily looked at his handsome face and gentle expression from the rear window. The gray cassock fluttered in the wind like the wings of a dove. at the bend in the road.At this time, the sky was vast, the road was yellow, the fields were green, and the distant mountains were blue. Suddenly, the monk disappeared, and the world was as silent as gray.

I don't think I will forget that scene until I die. I just feel depressed as if I have lost the most important thing in my life.From then on, whenever I think of Da Xin, the first shot is his figure walking by the lotus pond with an umbrella, and the second shot is when I see him getting smaller and smaller until he disappears from the rear window of the car. Disappearance is like a light switch, which turns on and off, reappearing in my later memory over and over again. When I arrived in Varanasi, I didn't go to the three-star hotel that Xiaoxin booked for me. Instead, I called a tricycle and went straight to the backpacker settlement on the left bank of the Ganges, and picked a third-rate hotel with 100 rupees per night. hostel.There was nothing in the room but a bed and a bed, but luckily it was tidy.

After staying overnight on the deserted beach, my adaptability has greatly increased. As long as I can take a bath, I can make do with it. Moreover, if the suitcase is lost, many daily necessities have to be repurchased, so I have to save money.But for the sake of being polite, I still called Xiao Xin's friend Mr. Dolby to send my greetings. He was very enthusiastic and was going to meet me at the hotel immediately.The hospitality is hard to come by, so I had to say the address and make an appointment to see you at four o'clock. After I settled everything, I went downstairs and had a simple lunch. I bought two sets of shirts, skirts and trousers that Indian girls often wear at a roadside shop, and picked out a loose Turkish robe as pajamas.Because it's a case of swinging and swinging, it doesn't matter if it fits or not.

Just after three o'clock, there was a knock on the door. A skinny young man came in. I reached out my hand and greeted in English, "Is that Mr. Dolby?" "I heard that your name is Xinha Xiaoxin, so you will also call me Xiaodu." He said in broken Chinese, holding my hand tightly.He looked slightly older than Xiao Xin, and his appearance was still upright, but his eyes were too flexible, and there was nothing disturbing about him. I pulled out my hand vigorously, and I didn't intend to correct his grammar. I just smiled and said, "Mr. Dolby, let's speak English."

He followed suit and changed his English immediately, but his tone was rather unwilling: "I really want to practice my Chinese. I graduated two years earlier than Xiao Xin, but I didn't have much chance to practice. Now I'm much rusty." It was only then that I found out that he was Xiao Xin's senior and also graduated from Nikol University, which is disrespectful.But thinking about the fact that many college students who graduated from the English department in our country also can't speak English well, I feel relieved. "Living in Varanasi, making friends with saints, bathing in Ganges water, and worshiping Lord Shiva" are the four joys of Hindus' life.And among these four things, three of them need to be conveniently carried out in Varanasi.One can imagine how bustling and crowded this city is.

What's more, here is not only the holy place of Hinduism, but also the birthplace of Buddhism, so every day, thousands of believers or tourists flock here from all over the world.Just like the word in the scriptures: the number of sands in the Ganges River. Dolby came on a motorcycle.But it is very close to the Ganges, and you can even see the shadow of the river from the window, so I suggest that we take a walk there. From the hotel to the river, the street is full of shops and stalls. At first glance, there is a dazzling array of colors, such as saris, jewelry, gilded statues, and beautiful carpets.But looking down, you can see cow dung, garbage, rotten food, and various discarded plastic bags all over the floor.People and tricycles are fighting for the road, and cattle and wild dogs are also joining in the fun.

We squeezed through the crowd with difficulty. Dolby tried to hold my hand, but seeing that I kept shaking it off, he had no choice but to grab my arm and almost dragged him. Not far from us, a car and a three-wheeled manpower staggered and blocked each other.The driver of the car got down, grabbed the tricycle driver and beat and kicked him.I thought a hand-to-hand fight was inevitable, but unexpectedly the tricycle driver squatted on the ground with his head in his arms, not even daring to protest or argue.What's even more incredible is that the police were standing less than a hundred paces away from them, not only ignoring them, but also watching them with folded arms.

I was dumbfounded, and couldn't help sighing: "It's too deceiving!" Dolby actually understood, and replied in Chinese: "This is class." "But, what about your law and order? What about your civilization?" I asked dissatisfiedly, "Can a sentence of class allow crime to be indulged?" "It's not murder and arson, so how can it be considered a crime?" Dolby said coldly, holding my arm and walking forward. At this time, there happened to be a group of tricycle drivers pulling the guests and driving past while ringing the bell. It was obvious at a glance that it was a tourist group.The few policemen immediately cheered up, lined up, brandished their sticks, yelled loudly, and beat each coachman head-on and face-to-face.Everyone has a share, and no one is lost.And those innocent coachmen just lowered their heads and pedaled three wheels vigorously, bearing the sticks that fell out of thin air on their shoulders without complaint, without even raising their heads.It seems that it is natural to suffer this for no reason, but it is abnormal not to be beaten in front of the police. I have lost my interest in commenting, and just silently followed Dolby through the crowd, but what happened next was even more shocking, and I couldn't keep silent—at a fork not far ahead, another group of tourist groups I passed by in a tricycle convoy, but was stopped by the police, saying that they blocked the road and traffic, and wanted to check the tour guide's ID.The tour guide was a very young guy, who seemed to be a college student who came out to work during the winter vacation. Of course, he did not have a tour guide certificate—in fact, most tour guides in India did not have a tour guide certificate. The police were just trying to provoke and blackmail him.Without asking a few words, the policeman raised his hand and slapped the tour guide without any explanation.The tour guide was not a driver, so he covered his face and argued a few words, but in exchange for more slaps. The tourists screamed, and they all gathered around to help talk.I just found out that it was the Chinese group.A young girl was obviously the leader of the tour, and she took out her tour guide card to negotiate with the police, but the police didn't bother to argue, and only waved sticks to order that all the seventeen people in the team should be taken to the police station for search. I hurriedly pushed Dubi and said, "You are a local, can you help me out? Find a way to help them." Dubi nodded, walked past the crowd, took out a stack of banknotes and stuffed them in the police station without saying a word. In his hands, he didn't even shy away from people's eyes, so he openly offered bribes in the street. However, this trick really worked. After a few sentences, the police waved their hands, and the group of seventeen was let go.I was almost stunned. In fact, bribery, breaking the law and bullying others are common in every country. However, it is too unbelievable for this to happen naked on the street in full view of the public.Especially if the police slap the tour guide at will, this is absolutely unimaginable in a civilized country, right? After walking to a safe place, the female team leader grabbed my hand and couldn't stop thanking me, and asked Dolby how much it cost.Dolby says one thousand rupees.The team leader hurriedly took out twenty dollars and stuffed them into his hands, and thanked him again and again.In fact, the team leader and I are very clear that the amount of money Dubise gave to the police just now is only a few hundred rupees at most, but we also know that if Dubise hadn’t come forward, I really don’t know how this farce will end, even if he makes a little money. of. The surname of the team leader is very special, surnamed Qiu, from Guangzhou.This is a group of elderly people from Guangdong. Most of them don't speak English well, and they can't even speak Mandarin well. If they were taken to the police station, the consequences would be disastrous.The Indian police are notorious for their "blackness". Who knows where they will take people and what will happen to them. Besides, even if they are really just brought to the police station for official business, it is enough to make this group of people The itinerary plan is greatly reduced. In order to express our gratitude and feel that it would be more reassuring to have a sociable local with us, Team Leader Qiu repeatedly invited us to take a river cruise with us.I originally thought it was not a gentleman's work to claim credit and repay him, but it was rare to meet a compatriot in another country, and I didn't want to be alone with Du Bi, so I readily agreed. No one can tell the age of Varanasi, two thousand years old, three thousand years old or more.Perhaps, since the Ganges River and human beings, there has been this city. Legend has it that the Ganges was formed because Shiva washed his hair in the Tianhe, and the water of the Tianhe flowed down his hair to the world.Hindus believe that bathing with Ganges water in the direction of the sunrise can wash away sins and gain rebirth. Although it was already afternoon, there were still many people soaking in the river, most of them were men and old people, and young women were rarely seen, probably hiding in relatively secluded places.They are not naked as in the legend, but most of them wear something around their waists, sitting or standing in twos and threes, washing away the sins of this life and praying for reincarnation in the next life. On the other hand, there are three naked monks on the shore, performing various worship movements on the high earth-built platform, which looks more like a yoga performance.The leader is an old man, shaped like dry wood, with deep-set eyes, and his age is indistinguishable. He can be said to be forty or eighty. Bai Hui, naked, with a shameless waist, makes passers-by want to avoid it and can't help taking pictures—after all, this is the legendary saint who practiced asceticism, which is rare to see. Two of his disciples played drums and danced beside him. One of the monks has a face that I will never forget. Only the left half of his face is relatively complete, while the right face is completely hung down, like melted wax. All the way down to the neck, the eyes and mouth are only vaguely shadowed, but they must have no function, more like a piece of rotten meat, just swinging with his dance steps, just like Tagore The "tengu's accomplice" described in the poem. I shuddered at just one look, it was truly the scariest face I've ever seen in my life, an unimaginable ugliness I've never seen in a nightmare or in the scariest thriller Such an evil face.Compared with him, the devil dwarf in "The Lord of the Rings" is simply beautiful. I can't accept that face as a devout believer or a virtuous monk.Even though I know it's not his fault, judging people by appearance is superficial, and he has such a face that he has no other way out but to become a monk, but I still can't sympathize with him. Team leader Qiu also let out a low exclamation, then turned to ask Dubi: "How could this happen?" That's a question I'd like to ask too, but just thinking about him is enough to make me shudder, let alone talking about him. Dubi stared at him indifferently and said, "It's a descendant of leprosy. There are many lepers in India, and their children will have strange shapes. In our religion, they did bad things in their previous lives. So there will be such a punishment in this life." Leader Qiu asked again, "Then so many people bathe in the river, aren't they afraid of contracting leprosy or other diseases?" Dubi said a little unhappy: "How could it be? The holy river water can cure all diseases." At this time one of the three monks came over and begged—fortunately not the ugliest one—for money for taking pictures.I wanted to say that I didn't take a picture, but I didn't have the courage to argue with him, so I quickly paid him a bill to send him off.At this time, I was a little relieved, because this proved that their various strange behaviors were still for the purpose of making a living, not for cultivation, and the old man could not be regarded as a truly virtuous saint.Otherwise, it would be really uncomfortable. I think of Da Xin, his penance is different. Before the birth of Buddhism, the practice of Hindus was divided into four classes: "brahma, home, forest, and seclusion".A reclusive sage should abandon everything, shave his head, keep the precepts, beg for food, wear rags, and the Vatican and I are one. Later, these rules also became the precepts of Buddhist disciples. 2,500 years ago, Siddhartha Gautama, Prince of Nepal, in order to understand the suffering of all people, kissed his sleeping wife and children goodbye on a bright moonlit night, and left Kapilavastu. , Change cassocks, shave your hair and become a monk.The entourage sent by his father caught up with him under the tree and decided to follow him to become a monk and start his journey of Buddhist practice. They successively visited three famous sages and wise men at that time, and learned from them, but they couldn't solve the confusion in their hearts.So I came to the bitter bamboo forest to practice penance. The Buddha said "let go", and he is indeed qualified to say this. For the sake of practice, he gave up more than everyone else.Including the throne, family, enjoy endless wealth and food.In the bitter bamboo forest, he didn't live in a house, didn't wear a wisp, endured the wind and rain, only ate a grain of wheat every day, thought hard, and forgot both the world and the self. He persisted for six years, and was as thin as a dry core.But this does not allow him to get rid of his troubles and get relief.Finally one day, when he passed out by the river, a shepherdess passed by and revived him with a bowl of goat's milk. So the Buddha realized that self-cultivation is not the best way to attain the Tao, and one must find another way to seek the true fruit.He came to take a bath in the Nilian Chan River, washed away the dirt of six years, and immediately felt refreshed.What he did made the five followers think that he had given up his practice and decided not to follow him anymore.So the Buddha came to Bodh Gaya alone, and finally enlightened to the Dharma under a Bodhi tree, and achieved the right result. Yet today, judging by the dead wood-painted monks on the banks of the Ganges, it is clear that they still believe that austerity is the most feasible way to become a saint.Since it is a spiritual practice, begging has become a matter of course, but stopping tourists naked like this to beg for a photo fee, shouldn't it be the work of a saint? In particular, I also saw a monk with a lock on his genitals. When the tourists gave enough tips, he would shamelessly show the lock to the tourists and let them take pictures of his private parts.So far, what is the feeling of embarrassment?Although the wise man has nothing to hide, there is no need to satisfy the secular curiosity-seeking psychology in exchange for money, right? Squeezing through the crowd all the way, I finally came to the famous "Birthstone Steps" - hundreds of steps connecting the bank to the river. At this time, it was crowded with pilgrims, weary believers, poor beggars, and the ubiquitous cow dung. Ms. Qiu and I walked down the steps carefully with each other's support, not only afraid of slipping, but also afraid of stepping on people. It felt like shuttling between heaven and hell. Here, every day, many believers waiting to die come from all over the country, trekking here with their last money and strength. They can't afford to stay in a hotel, so they sleep directly on the stone steps, bathe in the morning and pray at night, until they die.The public crematorium will naturally collect their corpses, burn them, and then scatter the ashes into the Ganges River to satisfy a believer's final practice and highest wish. Life and death are so close and frequently staged here, it seems a little creepy to think that the water of the Ganges is sprinkled with the ashes of the dead.But when I was really on the scene, I only felt a kind of solemnity and sadness. Someone once said: Mausoleum is the abbreviation of the underworld of a city's civilization and a symbol of the city's prosperity. People's awe of death reflects their pursuit of life.India has no mausoleums. Although Varanasi was already a very prosperous city more than 2,000 years ago, and India is also one of the four ancient civilizations in the world, they have no written history. This reminds me of the situation of looking up at the pyramids in Egypt, the tombs of the pharaohs, the obelisks soaring into the sky, the hieroglyphs carved on the stone walls, and the "Book of the Dead" with rich pictures and texts. These are the few things that left the deepest impression on me in Egypt thing.The ancient Egyptians had invented the method of embalming corpses as early as 5,000 years ago, as well as the important carrier of writing—papyrus.The "Pliss Document" of 2500 BC is the earliest document discovered in the world so far.The "curse of Tutankhamun" that has entangled archaeologists for nearly a hundred years is the perfect combination of words engraved on the tomb. Egypt’s worship of mausoleums and writing is completely opposite to that of India, which makes me have some doubts. Indians do not leave writings in life and do not leave tombs after death. Is there any necessary connection between the two? Leader Qiu arranged for the group members to board the boat one by one, and then greeted us to board another boat.Only then did I know that although the number of passengers carried by a boat is ten times that of a tricycle, the charges are not evenly shared, and are ten times higher than that of a tricycle.After asking Dubi, I learned that in the eyes of Indians, riding three rounds is a strength, while the boatman is a craftsman. Because he has to hold a certificate to work, his status is much more noble. At this time, the Ganges has been dotted with pleasure boats, hawkers selling lanterns and releasing raw fish cruise among them, and there are also vendors selling bird food.We bought lanterns as the Romans did, lit them and put them in the Ganges.I knelt down to pray to the Ganges just like the Indians, but I thought about it for a long time, and I didn't know what to pray.Since the dream directed me to the Ganges, then, let's hope that everything will have an answer, right? The buildings on the shore are majestic and magnificent, whether they are holy towers or not, they are all built in the appearance of ancestral temples.It is said that some of them are hotels or residences of rich people, but at first glance, it feels like a continuous group of temples.Some temples have collapsed and are half-buried in the river, but there are also examples of temples that are bathed in golden sunlight and stand safely.What is rare is that the Indians neither repair it nor tear it down, but let it soak obliquely like this, becoming a unique scene on the banks of the Ganges. The water of the Ganges River flows quietly, sparkling golden waves in the sun.The river divides the two banks into two worlds. On one side are continuous birthstone steps, tall towers, and tower-like buildings. There are worshipers and monks, bustling tourists, beggars who hope to be sheltered by the gods, and peddlers peddling business. It is walking on the shore and in the boat, like walking on flat ground; on the other side, it is the desolate and endless pale sandy beach, silently and nakedly enduring the loneliness of the ages - that barren land, it is said that because the Indians believe that the left side is not clean. The boat moved slowly with the current.Occasionally seeing a woman taking a bath, some group members made a fuss and shouted "Quick snap snap".In Bollywood movies, we usually see girls wearing thin and colorful sari worshiping in the sun, which are beautiful and solemn, but in reality, Indian women are either fat or thin, and it is rare to have a well-proportioned figure.Therefore, their wet bodies are not attractive, but standing in the slow and opaque river water, there is an indescribable harmony. White smoke rose into the sky in the distance, so we knew that the legendary cremation baths had arrived. As the boat approached, it was gradually possible to clearly see that the bank was full of high piles of firewood, and on the stretcher beside it was a corpse wrapped in a white cloth, covered with a yellow covering, and scattered yellow fragrant flowers around.There are workers busy operating nearby, but it is strange that no relatives and friends can be seen. Dubi said that after the relatives and friends delivered the body, they would go to a teahouse to cool off.The next thing is to burn the workers. After they are burned and cooled, relatives and friends will be called to pick up the bones.Don't underestimate the work of burning corpses. Not only is the selection of personnel very strict, but also the operating procedures and rules are very particular. For example, in the construction of these firewood stacks, which layer is thick and which layer is thin must be strictly classified It needs to be built by a special person, so as to ensure that the burning is thorough and clean; the identity of the deceased can be seen through the selection of wood, and rich people will be particularly picky, choosing precious sandalwood and camphor wood, just like the Chinese choose coffin boards , Rich and poor are different; and the holy fire to light the pyre has to be specially moved from the temple, and it takes three full hours to burn a corpse. Looking at the curling white smoke, I can't help but think of an old Chinese song: what is the way to die, and the body is on the same mountain.Relatives or Yu Bei, others have also sung. Different religions, different races, different cultures, but so what?Human beings have different skin colors, but the blood is the same red color, and the sadness and helplessness of birth, old age, sickness and death are the same.That white smoke, that Vatican bell, that sutra sound, that garland... I have experienced so many life and death, facing this place of reincarnation, I can't help crying. The sky was gradually getting dark, and the jewel-like stars adorned the sky with incomparable prosperity. We turned the bow of the boat and sailed back to the shore, but we were not in a hurry to land, but stayed on the boat to watch the river lanterns. This is an important program that must be performed by Brahmin monks on the banks of the Ganges every day.At this time, a high platform was built on the shore, and the lamps were lit one by one.The Gita sounded in my dream, as if passed down from ancient times to today.There is a priest standing on each high platform, holding a candle and singing scriptures while slowly swinging his arms, singing to the gods and to the dead.Each of their movements is performed in a rhythmic manner, like singing, dancing, and praying. After each set of movements, they change to another lampstand and dance again, changing more than a dozen tricks back and forth. Dubi told me that they are all hereditary Brahmins whose only job is to practice, and their salary comes from the donations of believers. "I am also a Brahmin." Duby said proudly. I was surprised that this was the first Brahmin caste I met in India, so I asked him, "Then you also have a salary?" "That's not true." Dubi was a little resentful, as if he was afraid that I would underestimate him because of this, and hurriedly explained seriously, "Only monks will have a salary. Have you seen the person who presided over the ceremony? That is the temple chief, who is also hereditary." Yes. The son of the temple head can only be the head of the temple, and they have to learn to read the Buddhist scriptures since they were young." It turns out that although in today's India, the caste system has long existed in name only, there is no distinction between high and low among the four castes, and intermarriage is free, and fish and dragons are mixed.However, the person who holds the Ganges ritual must still be a Brahmin and not another caste.The son of a priest can only be a priest, and the study of the Vedas is still a boy's skill, a skill passed down orally from generation to generation by Brahman monks.Therefore, the chanting of scriptures today is exactly the same as it was two thousand years ago. It can be seen that no matter how far the social invention develops, it doesn’t matter whether the government recognizes it or not. Hereditary and caste still exist in India. At least those who serve the gods still need Brahmins with pure blood. They have received good education since childhood and learned about religion. All rituals, scriptures and chanting.All their expenses still come from the donations of believers. Just like the scriptures they recite, they have been unchanged for two thousand years, mixed in the water of the Ganges River, and permeated with the blood of Hindus. I am a person without belief, but at this moment, sitting in the boat looking at the shore, seeing the lights dancing, and listening to the Gita, it seems that I really feel some kind of divine edict.The sound of chanting has traveled through two thousand years, completely reproducing a prosperous Hinduism in BC.The gods of Hinduism swim on the Ganges, looking down on us and other living beings. Reincarnation of life and death, karma, maybe it is useless to preach these things, but if there is no past life and future life, what is the meaning of everything today?Life should be a circle, not just a small piece of thread. It has no beginning and no end. It comes out of nowhere and has nothing to rely on. It shouldn't be like this. At the end of the River Lantern Ceremony, all the priests blew the Dharma gong together, and put countless lotus lanterns into the Ganges River, and gradually drifted away, as if the stars in the sky fell into the Ganges River, drifted away, and flowed all the way to the sky. I closed my eyes and listened quietly to the brahmin monks blowing the Dharma gong, but I couldn’t help but feel distracted. What came to my mind was Da Xin sitting by the lotus pond and chanting sutras, and what I saw from the rear window of the car. The figure of him walking alone.Did my question at this moment also linger in his thinking? I remember that Xiao Xin said that his relatives and friends once deeply regretted that Da Xin was not born in a Brahmin family, saying that otherwise, he would definitely become an excellent priest and even the head of the temple. Sakyamuni was not a Brahman either. Later, he became a monk and proposed that "the four surnames are equal." Daxin and Sakyamuni belonged to the Kshatriya caste, and he also followed the Buddha to become a Sakyamuni. He also had dissatisfaction with the caste system in his heart ? The first sect of Buddhism was to oppose Brahmanism, but it also inherited many central ideas of Brahmanism, such as "three generations of cause and effect", such as "six paths of reincarnation", such as "four harmony".However, although Buddhism does not deny the existence of Hindu gods, it does not worship them, and only treats them as sentient beings. It believes that even gods and Buddhas cannot avoid the suffering of reincarnation.Whether it is Brahma, the great god who created the world, or Shiva, the god of destruction with boundless mana, they are just the gods and humans in the six realms of reincarnation, and they will fall into hell in the future. But the Buddha did not expect that after he passed into nirvana, his believers would also burn incense for him and regard him as the eternal and supreme god.So, in the war between Buddhism and Hinduism, which one is better? The lantern-laying ceremony lasted until very late at night on the banks of the Ganges, and when we landed, we still felt that we had plenty of time.There are even people setting up stalls selling vegetables in the alleys.I said goodbye to my compatriots in the tour group one by one, and then, in order to thank Dolby for his company, I invited him to have dinner at the riverside restaurant.He was in good spirits, a good eater, and asked for a bottle of gin on his own initiative.When paying the bill, he didn't show any politeness, and even told me when he saw me paying the tip: "It doesn't need to be so much, just give the change." This is not outrageous. When I said goodbye to him downstairs in the hotel, he had no intention of leaving. Instead, he asked me, "Would you like me to come up and sit down?" "It's getting late." I hinted that he was tired and needed an early rest. He smiled and said, "I can help you relax." At first I thought I had heard it wrong, but when I saw the desire in his eyes, I was finally sure that I hadn't misunderstood. I couldn't help being slightly annoyed, but I still said politely: "I'm too tired today, see you another day." He still did not give up, and fought again, saying: "My technique is very good. Both massage and bed skills are top-notch." I finally got angry, and said coldly: "I have to catch a plane early tomorrow morning, and I need to rest early." After finishing speaking, I turned around and left without waiting for his reply. I have long heard that Indian men are lustful, but apart from those idle gangsters on the street, the only Indian men I have really come into contact with are the Sinha brothers, but one is as holy as a lotus flower and the other is as pure as a crystal. It made me forget to keep a distance, only being Xiao Xin's friend must also be like Xiao Xin.This is really a big misunderstanding. As soon as he thought of Xiao Xin, his call came and he said anxiously, "I've been leaving messages for you on MSN, why haven't you responded?" I said apologetically, "It's not convenient for me to surf the Internet, which makes you worry." Before I could finish speaking, he interrupted and said, "Tell me your room number, and I'll call you." At this time, my call is international long-distance plus roaming, which costs a lot of money.After all, it is Xiao Xin, who is always so considerate and careful.I hurriedly said, "I'll call you later." So I went to the public phone downstairs and dialed back, and briefly talked about the adventures of the past two days.I heard that I actually met his elder brother. Xiao Xin didn't speak for a long time. I almost thought that there was something wrong with the line. After saying "Hello" twice, I heard his choked up voice asking, "How is he?" I couldn't help my nose getting sour, and I hurriedly said, "He's fine. He looks very healthy, and also very... full." Xiao Xin was silent for a while, and then said softly: "If you see him again, please tell him that my mother and I miss him very much." "Okay, I will tell you." I replied as a matter of course, as if I could see Da Xin whenever I wanted. But in my heart, I really believed that I would see him again.How could I have imagined that the two brothers who are connected by blood have not seen each other for many years, but I, a foreigner, have accidentally become their matchmaker. Because I was afraid that Dolby would be entangled, I checked out early the next morning and moved to the small hotel next door. After booking the room, we went to the river to watch the sunrise.It was a little late, and the sun had already risen, reflecting the river water in a golden color, which made people think of the words "golden years". In Hindu legend, the sun god rides in a chariot drawn by seven horses, which is very different from the Chinese sun god Yufeng Feixiang, but they are both majestic and majestic.There are newly released lotus lanterns floating on the river, floating and sinking, swaying leisurely, those are the wish of the people who put the lanterns, such day-to-day devotion, "the number of sands in the Ganges" yearning, offering a sacred constant. river. The birthstone steps are still overcrowded and there is no place to step down.Yesterday, the three monks were blocking the road for begging again. From time to time, people dressed as monks came over and said "divination" to me.I imitated the locals and sat down on the stone steps, hugging my knees and watching the boats and people coming and going. The morning bathers have begun to return one after another. Many of them carry a jug, and some even carry a large jug in each hand.I guess they are believers from thousands of miles away. This pot of Ganges water should be the best gift he can give to his relatives and friends.Hindus believe that even if they cannot bathe in the Ganges facing the sun every morning, if they can sprinkle a few drops of Ganges water when praying, they will still be protected by God.Although, day after day, the river has received the germs of countless dying people and the ashes of the dead, believers still have no doubts about its supernatural powers and holiness, and regard it as nectar. I saw a woman in a sari walking up the steps wetly, dripping from her head and body, and suddenly thought of climbing up from the lotus pond the day before, and waking up in the wilderness in the morning Look at the way Daxin recited the scriptures—at this time, if you want to come to Daxin, you should go to Sarnath, right? After breakfast, I started to wander aimlessly in the streets and alleys.I saw many ancient temples, Hindu, Buddhist, medieval and modern.There is one temple that all Hindus can visit, called the Indian Mother Temple.Because it is not dedicated to any god, but only a map of India.Regardless of whether you believe in Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam, Christianity, or Jainism... In short, you are all Indians, and you can come to this mother temple to worship and pray for yourself. Proud to be an Indian.I really hope there is such a temple in China, maybe it is the Great Wall? The colorful saree shop is also like an attraction, which makes people linger and forget to return.Holding those soft saris in your hands, you can’t help but feel fascinated. Each saree hides a beautiful woman’s dream. The red one is the delicate princess lifting her skirt and going down the steps in the eyes of everyone, and the pink one is at dusk. Watching the sunset side by side with the lover, the transition from emerald green to soft blue and interlaced with golden threads is a lake in the green light forest with ripples, and peacocks picking their feathers by the water.And all kinds of purples and reds lined up together, there are three thousand beauties in the harem, and everyone thinks that they are the most beautiful and most beloved beauties by their masters. The owner enthusiastically taught me how to wrap a sari. Even though I apologized and said that I didn’t want to buy it, he still smiled and gesticulated, and dressed me like an Indian woman wrapped in silk. 这其间有几个欧洲女人嘻嘻哈哈叽哩咕噜地走了进来，也都将各色纱丽纷纷往自己身上招呼。我这才明白，原来店主那样的盛情挽留，是为了让我做活体模特儿。想到自己居然有做模特的资质，倒也很开心，丝毫不介意被人利用了一回。 这一天我什么都没有买，却尽兴地逛了一整日商铺，香料铺、披肩铺、鞋包店、丝绸店、金银店、箍桶铺……我对所有的商品都充满好奇，看到店门开着就长驱直入，还顺脚走进了一所大学，逛公园般游荡了一圈。 校园的建筑也像是一座古堡，里面还建有印度庙，教学楼前供奉着知识女神，就是那个令创造神失去臣民敬拜的绝色美女瓦拉硕帝。我和大学生们在草地上跳舞，又向他们讨教印度舞蹈的诀窍。 印度的舞蹈有很多种，但我只大概了解到其中三种，一是喀什尔邦舞，专门表现神话传说的，用于大型表演；一种是东北部的曼尼舍利舞，是男女共舞，讲述天神夫妻的故事，比如湿婆与巴拉瓦地就经常是舞蹈的男女主人公；还有一种阿萨姆邦舞，则是比较正常的舞蹈了，任何人都可以跳，表示欢娱而已。 接下来一连两天也仍是这样，我整日地在城中徜徉着，对河边的这一带巷道渐渐熟悉起来，很清楚走出旅馆后，下一个巷口会有哪些商铺，那些铺里又在卖些什么，甚至熟悉了许多小贩的兜售口吻和宰客技巧，远远地只要听到声音就已经可以记起那人的动作神情。浑身黝黑赤裸的小孩子蹲在街边大解，刚拉起裤子来，就有一条流浪狗走来舔食。旁边食档的小贩一边笑嘻嘻地看着一边煎炸咖哩饺。蚊虫、热气、潮湿、水里混沌不清的漂浮物，鲜艳的沙丽，浓郁的咖哩，这里的一切都是热烈而激昂的，没有半点僧侣的内敛气质。 空气里飘散着焚香和咖哩的气味，最神圣的信仰与最基本的欲望纠缠不休，家家户户都供奉着神祉，所有的商店、旅馆、甚至交通工具上，都供着神龛或贴着神像，印度的神是拥挤的，热闹的，世俗的。他们享受人间烟火，那经过咖哩过滤的香火。 我走过一个个石阶，看到女人打着赤脚站在水里，用力拎着床单或是衣物，在石条上用力摔打，洗好了就晾在台阶上，花花绿绿地好不鲜艳热闹。同一道河流，有人在洗衣，有人在烧尸，有人在沐浴，还有人弯腰掬起河中的水，虔诚地喝下去。 恒河水圣而不洁，极其缓慢雍滞地向前流淌着，沿途收下善男信女们的体味，汗垢，还有尸骨——坐在河边的出生石阶上，有时会不能自已地想到“洗尸水”这个词，却丝毫没有悚然的感觉。或许是因为尸骨只在想象中，毕竟是不能看见的，而河面上不时漂下的花瓣却是真真实实，无比浪漫。 有时候我会找到一段无人的台阶在河边独自坐上一两个小时候，什么也不做，就只是看着花瓣顺流而下。如果是在别的地方，这样子让自己身处偏僻无人之地，大概是会让我自己紧张的吧。但是在恒河边，这印度的神圣之地，我会盲目地觉得安全，相信再奸恶的暴徒也不会选择这种地方行凶。 一朵不知名的小黄花漂到我的脚下，我弯腰将它拾起来，拈在手上，但是忽然想起这可能是某位死者的殉葬，又赶紧丢入了水中。于是顺流而上，一直走，总会走到某个火葬台去。 正有亲友抬着尸体送来，从包裹的纱丽看来，可知是一具女尸。无法判断她的年龄，尸体被纱丽横横竖竖严严实实地缠裹着，上面撒满黄色和白色的鲜花。工人层层堆起木柴，我不懂得分辨材料，但看起来应该挺高档的，因为锯解得很整齐，像个工艺品，被有规则地堆积起来，然后用神庙引来的火种点燃。担尸的架子放在柴堆最上层，在刚开始焚烧的时候，下面已经是熊熊烈火，上面却还是完整的尸体，裹在经恒河水浸湿的艳丽尸布里，连鲜花都依稀可辨，庄严而清洁，让人在观看的时候心中竟然没有恐惧。 我远远地站着看完了整个烧尸的过程，感觉被烧的人仿佛是自己，当人们把骨灰和鲜花一起撒入恒河的时候，我觉得自己也顺水漂走了，一生就此完结。 不知道为什么会有这样奇怪的感觉，也许是因为我一直就渴望对人生有个很好的告别，有个完整的葬礼。我总是担心自己死的时候无人知晓，但比无人知晓更可怕的是，有许多人袖手旁观却无人怜惜。我有时候会梦见自己死在车水马龙的街道上，甚至不是车祸，而只是一场猝死，心脏病发或脑溢血什么的，尽管我并没有那样的病症。当我尸横闹市的时候，人们匆匆从我身边经过，也有些人会停下来围观，议论纷纷，眼神不一，但是没有任何人流泪。他们就像观看一场猴戏那样看着我的死亡，说够看够就各回各家。 我不害怕死亡，却害怕死后没有人没为我焚烧或埋葬，没有人领取我的骨灰，再将它掩埋或者撒入大海。我有些羡慕眼前的这具女尸，不管她生前是什么身份，是否满意自己的人生，在她死后，可以如此隆重而坦然地葬入恒河，是一件很好的事情。 在瓦拉纳西尤其是靠近恒河的地方很难睡懒觉，总是很早就会被街市上的喧哗声吵醒。不过好在我也不舍得把时间浪费在睡觉上，总觉得今天有什么重要的事情要做，可是走出门去，却发现自己其实没有方向。 日复一日，我不知道自己在延捱什么，但迟迟不愿意安排下一步行程。有人说过旅行最好的部分就是发呆，我非常赞成，但发呆只适合于国内南方的许多小镇，比如上海横塘、乌镇之类，还有厦门的鼓浪屿，在小巷里漫无目的地走上一整天都不会觉得平淡。 然而瓦拉纳西不同，这里颜色太鲜艳，气味太强烈，人群太拥挤，小偷和骗子也太猖獗，让大脑很不容易放空。我知道自己一直在若有所思，但不明晰到底想要什么。 仿佛在赴一场约会，却又不知道自己在等谁。 晚上，我站在房间里，透过窗户一角遥望星光点点的恒河水，模糊地想着生死的问题，想到苦行和静修，忽觉思念如潮涌。 我竟然在想念大辛，那个只有一面之缘的和尚，曾在生死边缘对我施以援手。他说过我不是溺水，是自杀。但事实并不是那样，我觉得有很多话要对他说，总觉得我们的谈话还没有完成。我一直这样地寻寻觅觅，就是期望再见他一面。 我终于明白，自己滞留在瓦拉纳西，是因为还有个地方没有去——大辛说过要去鹿野苑朝圣，如果我去到那里，会遇见他吗？