I was reluctant to go out because of the garbage-strewn streets of Varanasi, but in the end, my strong curiosity drew me to the Ganges. The experience there made me realize that the river is a mysterious place where life and death coexist.
When I saw the dirt floor covered with garbage, I decided that I would never leave. When I opened the window and let the outside air in, I was choked by the stench. Varanasi is a city in northern India, and it is also a city of history and smell. In the air I could smell the smoke from the crematorium in the distance and the scent of flower petals scattered along the banks of the Ganges. Of course, the smell of garbage and animal excrement is not to be missed. As if the air was like a blanket, it weighed down on my body and I was intoxicated by its unique scent and my head began to hurt. I couldn’t help but miss the cold, refreshing air of midwinter.
I closed my eyes, gathered my courage, opened the door, and carefully stepped onto the dirt floor. As soon as I took a step, I felt regret. I couldn’t open my eyes, thinking of the white basketball shoes that had become dirty. But then I felt something hit me from somewhere. When I opened my eyes, I saw a newborn baby and a girl holding him. The girl, who looked less than ten years old, had been starving for several days, leaving only skinny bones, and the newborn baby was so exhausted from hunger that his eyes were unfocused. Both children looked like shells, their souls gone. The little girl smiled and held out her hand, which was covered in cuts and bruises, and her fingers brushed against my T-shirt. I was very confused by the sudden situation and quickly ran back to the motel.
When I entered the motel and closed the door, I couldn’t even look out the window. I felt so cowardly and ashamed. I still can’t forget the look in that girl’s eyes. I, who was in such a spiritual dilemma, did not go on a tour of the Ganges with the other party. I sat in the lobby of the motel for a long time, staring blankly at the interior of the motel. The interior of the motel was like a place where time had stopped. The discolored wallpaper was covered with green mold, and the only sofa in the lobby was crawling with various insects. Ants walked in a line between the tile floors of the lobby, as if food scraps were stuck between their teeth. The statue of Shiva (Hindu god of destruction) and his cobra on the wall seemed to be staring at me with a fierce look. That day, due to a lack of electricity, only one of the three ceiling fans was working, and it was not enough to endure the Indian heat.
Avoiding the gaze of the god Shiva, I looked out the window again and watched the bustling scene of Varanasi. Despite the early hour, street vendors were selling fruit and various spices from their stalls, and I also saw students riding bicycles that looked like they were about to fall over. The sight of Hindus wrapping themselves in bright orange saris (traditional clothing worn by Indian women) and going to offer morning prayers to God was especially mysterious and new. The main roads of Varanasi served as a means of transportation for people and animals to the Ganges. As I watched, my curiosity got the better of me. Unable to contain my curiosity, I mustered up the courage to step outside the motel again. The moment I stepped out of the motel door, the characteristic smell of Varanasi hit my nose. But this time I was used to it, so it wasn’t disgusting, and I got on the Varanasi traffic belt without worrying about other people’s eyes.
From a distance, the Ganges shone a beautiful blue. As I approached the river, I could see the Hindu temples surrounding the river one by one. The stone steps leading down to the river were crowded with people, and the closer I got to the Ganges, the more I felt the energy of life, from the old merchants to the street children to the animals. The street children followed me around, trying to put on a monkey show for tourists like me, while families prepared to take a bath in the river. Cows, which are considered gods in India, walked along the riverbank looking at everything with their sad eyes. At the top of the stairs were people meditating and women doing laundry.
I gave the young boatman less than a dollar in American money and boarded the small sailboat. The boat was so old that I spent every moment on board in a state of anxiety. The view of the Ganges from the boat was completely different from what I had seen from a distance. As if it were a lie, the blue color was nowhere to be found, and instead my blurred reflection in the earth-colored water reminded me of dirty basketball shoes. Around the boat floated soot and garbage, and decaying pieces of wood, plastic, and torn clothes covered the river like a jigsaw puzzle. As the gentle waves came and went, the garbage followed the flow of the waves up and down. Children and adults alike jumped into the water, mimicking the waves. They bathed with the dead bodies floating in the river and offered daily prayers of thanksgiving to God. As I watched, I couldn’t help but feel disgusted. What kind of religion and faith is it that allows people to bathe in the dirtiest river in the world without a care?
I closed my eyes for a moment as I watched the incredible scene on the boat. It was then that a story I had heard years ago suddenly came to mind. It was Schrödinger’s cat experiment. In this experiment, a cat is placed in a box isolated from the outside world, with a small amount of radiation, a plate to measure it, and a poison attached to the plate. This radioactive material has a 50% chance of decaying, and when it does, the panel receives a signal to break the bottle containing the poison. However, an outside observer cannot know whether the cat in the box is dead or alive until he opens the box. In other words, the cat experiences the world of death and the world of life simultaneously. The Ganges River in India is one of the most polluted rivers on the planet, making it an inhospitable place to live. However, for the people of India, the Ganges symbolizes “life” and it is believed that bathing in this river will grant eternal life. As I sailed down this river, I felt that this place had a lot in common with Schrödinger’s cat.
This thought pierced my heart, just as the fingers of the begging girl had done in the morning. I realized that the mystery of the Ganges lies in its paradoxical appearance. It is a contradiction that the “dead” river scientifically means “life” religiously. But as Schrödinger’s experiment proved, it is not impossible. Looking at the Ganges from the boat, I felt so grateful for this moment. The Ganges is the only place in the world where you can experience both the world of death and the world of life at the same time, and I was fortunate enough to experience it firsthand. Unlike Schrödinger’s cat, the Ganges cannot break the state of its paradox by opening the lid of the box. Unlike Schrödinger’s cat, the Ganges in India will remain a place where life and death are forever intertwined.