I cannot imagine myself in a more awful yet interesting place than Varanasi. It is one of the oldest cities in India and the holiest city of Hinduism. Varanasi is also considered as Shiva’s favorite city which he never leaves. Above Varanasi hovers a mixed mist of smoke and fumes, so that at night no stars can be seen. The narrow streets are littered with garbage and feces, and cows, pigs, dogs and monkeys are roaming around. Drug dealers and pimps are standing near the Ghats, the stairs leading to the Ganges, looking out for tourists to scam.
Many religious people come here simply to die, to be cremated on the banks of the Ganges, before the ashes will be handed over to the river. They say, this way it is possible to break out of the cycle of birth and rebirth. The city is full of sick people waiting for death.
One evening we had gathered together to visit a so-called Puja on the Ganges. It is traditionally Hindu ceremony in Varanasi. Suddenly in the midst of the ceremony a bomb exploded. One child died, many people were injured. According to the newspaper Hindustan Times a terror organization called Indian Mudschaheddin confessed to this attack.