ancientcityoftemplesonthebanksoftheGanges,which
datesbacktothetwelfthcenturyBC.Wakingbeforethe
sunrose,wewalkedoutontotheghats,thewallsofsteep
stepsliningthebanksofthemassiveriver.We’dsecured
aheadoftimetheservicesofapandit,aholyman,andhe
guidedusontoa smallwoodenboatwitha rowerwho
pulled us out onto the predawn river.
Theairwascrispandchilly.Ashroudofwhitefoghung
overthecity’sspiresandthewater.Atemplegurusang
mantras broadcast over staticky speakers. The sound
driftedacrosstherivertotheearlybatherswiththeirbars
ofsoap,therowsofwashermenbeatingclothesonstone
tablets,andakingfishersittingonamooring.Wepassed
riverbankplatformswithhuge stacksofwoodawaiting
thedozensofbodiestobecrematedthatday.Whenwe’d
traveledfarenoughoutintotheriverandtherisingsun
became visible through the mist, the pandit began to
chant and sing.
Astheoldestmalein thefamily,Iwascalleduponto
assistwiththeritualsrequiredformyfathertoachieve
moksha— liberation from the endless earthly cycle of
deathandrebirthtoascendtonirvana.Thepandittwisted
aringoftwineontothefourthfingerofmyrighthand.
Hehadmeholdthepalm-sizebrassurnthatcontained
myfather’sashesandsprinkleintoitherbalmedicines,
flowers,andmorselsoffood:abetelnut,rice,currants,
rock crystal sugar, turmeric. He then had the other
membersofthefamilydothesame.Weburnedincense
andwaftedthesmokeovertheashes.Thepanditreached
overthebowwith asmallcupandhadmedrinkthree
tinyspoonsofGangawater.Thenhetoldmetothrowthe