From Ganga to Ganja

In my iPod: No Surprise - Daughtry
State of mind: in gay limbo
Location: Varanasi, India

Varanasi, one of the oldest cities in the world; holy city to the fucking Muslims and the fucking Buddhist and it is the most revered pilgrimage place for the fucking Hindus. Here in Varanasi every day in the year is a holy day and there is a temple to commemorate each of this holy day. It was said that Gautama Buddha in one of his four pilgrimages came here; where he turned into 9 Buddha's to cross the 9 bridges that the 9 Naga (snake deities) have form across the river Ganga. To the Hindus, this was the part of Ganga where the body of Lord Shiva was laid.

After a whooping 13 hours train ride, I arrived to a city with narrow streets and ancient buildings, whose markets are filled with the most beautiful saris and silk weavings; sound of sitars and flutes echoes in accord with the constant blaring car horn; sacred unrefined beefs [1] shared the streets with the locals and the roaming monkeys. I came here a man with no reservation, no plan, and no sense of direction and no fucking idea where the fuck I was going to stay. Without giving it much thought, I quickly found a cheap room at a fucking ramshackle hotel to fucking lay my ass down for I was beginning to feel sick again.

My following day started as early as 6:00am; this was highly unusual for I was known to be allergic to early mornings, but having slept through almost the whole day yesterday, it was like I have skipped a day and overslept for 24 hours. I was still feeling as weak as a helpless little old lady, thanks to my severe coughing and sore throat; Since I was feeling like an old maid, I might as well be like one; so I decided to do something that I wouldn't usually do: to take a fucking boat ride along the Ganga.

I headed to the nearest ghat[2] where I was told that I can hire a boat to bring me along the Ganga; there at Assi Ghat, I manage to employ the service of a curry fucker which looks almost the same like any other fucker living there. I guess to me, all fucking Indians here looks almost the same and but what can I say I guess maybe to them we yellow skin bastard look the same too.

Initially I wanted to do what all the motherfuckers here do: to take a dip in the holy river Ganga. But I have to be realistic about my current state of health now; submerging into a river that some say is the world's dirtiest river would probably kill me but that doesn't bother me at all. My concern is instead of dying, my fucking balls would fall off my melted scrotum because of the highly contaminated waters of the Ganga. So I might as well leave this part unfulfilled and wait till I am in my best of health before I go skinny dip inside the shit water of the holy Ganga.

As for now, I am just going to be a sightseeing fagot sitting behind a boat like some fucking bitch as the boatman oar me along river. I told the boatman to steer closer to the shore when he sees bathers, so that I can have a closer look at the ritualistic morning bath which actually fucking implies… “If you fucking see a hot chic, move in closer.” I mean every fucking guy with a penis would get what I mean right?

Yet all that the motherfucker did was close in some curry dudes in magenta colored underwear. What the fuck, do I fucking look gay to you?

Two hours for Rs. 360 was like a fucking rip off for a straight guy like me; the boat ride was like one huge joy ride for fucking homosexual because all I fucking see were just close up of naked men scattered all around the ghat and river banks. It felt so fucking gay!

After reaching the docking place, I decided I had to take it to the street and maybe try hitting on some local curry scented damsel to wash away the after taste of that gay ride. So I quickly ventured into the back streets of Varanasi. I mean it is common sense that the best place to meet girls is at the back lanes, right?

But I was quickly distracted and sway away from my main objective of scoring with a curry bitch. I tell you when you see this shit here being sold openly, that means that must be cannabis for sale around here somewhere.

It is chillum motherfuckers, and that hollow middle is where you fucking put your ganja.

Excited because I have never tasted it and always wanted to try it; I quickly got myself one and with a little fact finding conversation with the vendor; I quickly found out that Ganja is widely used in India for religious ritual and traditional medicine. For yogis, it is like a normal thing to fucking suck on a chillum fill with ganja after their morning dip in the Ganges. It is still illegal but tolerable as long as the authority don't see you doing it. The bottom line is, people around here are doing it and the authorities wouldn't be bothered unless you fucking flash it for everyone to see. Then he will have no fucking choice but to arrest your drug junkie ass.

So with my new chillum and some pointers on how to get high from the vendor who also was now my drug dealer too; I managed to score a little ganja and I was on my way to enjoy this outlawed yet readily available treat. Who knows maybe tonight after puffing my magic wand filled with ganja, I might get enlightened and become the next Dalai Ganja or Brahman-rijuana or some shit like that…


[1] Sacred cows that hasn't turned into beef yet

[2] Steps along the river Ganga

p.s. Much later I found out that I was really ripped off; the usual price for an hour's boat ride was Rs. 100 and not Rs. 180. Fuck you homo boatman, I wish I could just shove your fucking oar up your fucking curry ass.

xniquet's journey across India