Mission--to Compare the Immortal Works of Man with the Junk
It was a rare chance to stand at a sacred
crossroads of existence, I told the children. The Infinite
Round of Being was playing out before us. A billion believing
Hindus dreamed of coming to this very place. To have one's
body burned here, the ashes tossed into the Holy Ganges River,
was to assure a good burial, a release from the endless karmic
cycle of birth and rebirth. Here, it was possible for souls
to attain nirvana, which was the goal of all souls.
Still, I could tell the Burning Ghat in
Varanasi's Holy City was not making it as a family-fun destination.
The kids were not digging it.
"This is horrible! Disgusting!" critiqued
"Bad," chimed in twelve-year-old Rosalie.
"Really bad," assented Billy, nine at the
The three of them were united on this point.
They were all going to throw up if we didn't get out of there
Nattering like some ninny Chevy Chase,
I'd told my wife: you'll see, the Burning Ghat is going
to be a pick hit. Knock their unchanged socks right off.
As it turned out ...