The outsider

Varanasi or Banaras has been interpreted variedly, this is an outsider's attempt to understand the city

  By Meera Vohra

The most clichéd description of a Banarasi, being fun loving with a damn care attitude, could be a shocker to a newcomer who takes things on the face value. The fun is certainly not writ large on their face, as a gullible outsider, I realised when I came to the city more than a decade ago. The fun that I was expecting to drip like the paan from the corner of their mouth was expecting too much from a Banarasi. For an outsider like me the city overwhelmed me, both the sacred and profane that coexisted, certainly pulled the thinking process in opposite directions, proving too exhausting for my mind. It was much years later, I realised the city thrived on metaphors. You really had to go deep to understand both the philosophy and even the humour. 'Subtle' is the word to describe Banarasi humour. 

 I often wondered if the bull on the road or the man sitting on a turn of a lane, whom you approached for directions, with a smile, had a more stoic face. Then to your utter surprise the man would come up with a one liner, Eh rasta sidhe swarg pahuchayee, making you smile all the way until you reach your destination, while he would maintain the status quo, of no expressions on his face. 

 Their wry humour seems misplaced at times, suddenly appearing at rather inappropriate places, like the funeral procession. E ta nipat gava ab tumhar bari ho, in the colloquial language, could appear distasteful, for an outsider like me , but the jibe at whom it is aimed remains unperturbed. This is quite in consonance with the city of moksha, where death is considered a truth. A truth that is looked straight into the eye, rather than shied away from. So jokes on death are part of the culture of the city that even celebrates this ultimate truth. So any funeral procession crossing your way while on an important task is considered auspicious here, quite contrary to anywhere else. My professional journey in the city began on this rather auspicious note. The first assignment given to me began with the chants of death, as the manager of the maath, on which my story was based, had passed away just hours before we reached the place and the funeral procession was ready to go for its ultimate journey. Sharing this with some local-ites, they prophesied, you are here to stay, which I did and continue to do.

  Like the city, it is tough to understand a thoroughbred Banarasi , especially if you are an outsider. There are two most common varieties, the stoic faced, (which I earlier mentioned) and the outgoing, which are ready to help, even when you don’t need it. The former are a tough nut to crack, as far as their emotional state is considered. Happy or sad, not even a slightest of twitch on their face could be a give-away of their mental state. So beware of dealing with such kinds, as you may be caught on the wrong foot. But they can surprise you with their rather caustic sense of humour, so keep aside your sensitivity, while dealing with them. Recently while going for a darshan at a temple, I decided to take the route of the ghat to the temple. On reaching the entrance of the temple that was being repaired , after climbing the steps on the ghat , I checked with the artisan , engaged in the work, how safe it is to remove my slippers there?. His instant reply was, Baba ke charon me dhyan deha apan mein baade ma deha. That sarcastic reply made me smile, but I could not see even a trace of it on his face.