KEEPER OF THE FLAME
Lord of the cremation pyres of Varanasi
Rising from the banks of the Ganga, a series of long, narrow pan-stained stone steps takes you up to the residence of the most famous undertaker in India. He is the lord of Varanasi’s famed cremation ghats. His name is Sanjit but he is known by his honorific Dom Raja. You are prepared to meet a billionaire because legends (perpetuated mostly by journalists) have it that Dom Rajas make a fortune burning the dead and have luxury villas and cars across India. But at the head of the steps you stare only at a large hovel.
Deep in its bowels sits a short swarthy man presiding over a half-dozen children, all idling shirtless in the morning sun.
The man is almost half burnt. His bare chest is scarred white and his left hand burnt so badly that it’s twisted in on itself at the wrist. “I am looking for Dom Raja,” I say haltingly. “I am he,” he says blankly, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his crippled hand.
What a sad paradox you think, for a man in charge of burning the dead to roast himself alive like that at the job.
“Oh this,” he says, pointing to his chest and hand. “This is because of a cylinder blast at a wedding six years ago.”
There in the sun with his scars and with no vestige of his rumoured riches, he looks decrepit and pitiful.
It’s a big climb down from the days of Kallu — his ancestor and the first Dom Raja who, according to Indian mythology, had kept the vow — abiding King Harishchandra as an apprentice.
Sanjit may not have inherited Kallu’s wealth but he has inherited his indelible caste mark. Undertakers are lowest in India’s pecking order. They are untouchables to be kept at a safe distance.
“In the bazaar if I have to drink water I cannot touch the glass. They pour it down to me. The local people don’t allow me in their homes nor do they come to my place,” he says. To top it all, he is not allowed into the holy temples in Varanasi including the most sacred, Vishwanath.
Ironically, however, the Dom Rajas are keepers of the sacred flame revered by all Hindus. No matchstick is used to light the fire at the ghats. Everyone must use the sacred fire that has been burning for centuries in Dom Raja’s hearth. The fire and the burning at the Varanasi’s ghats, as the Hindu belief goes, liberates one from the everlasting cycle of life and death.
Dom Raja is the leader of a two-tier hierarchy of Doms — all of whom are given duties as per the roster. The Dom Raja not only presides over any disputes at the ghats but he gets the maximum number of duties.
Its not an easy job, Sanjit reminds you. The stench of bodies, some of which have been kept in mortuaries for days and opened up for postmortems, is unbearable. To drown out the putrid odour, Sanjit drinks copious amounts of local whisky. He claims to drink at least eight bottles (250 millilitres each) every day.
“I’ve already had two since morning. All Doms need to drink. The job is such. There is so much smell. What to do?” he says.
The two burning ghats at Varanasi, the Raja Harishchandra Ghat and the holier Manikarnika Ghat swarm with Doms. They begin their funeral duties by offering a prayer to Kallu Dom. The Doms build up the funeral pyre methodically. To make sure the body keeps burning, they poke it with long poles from time to time.
The poor cannot afford to buy enough wood and the remains of their dead often remain halfburnt. But nothing goes to waste at the ghats. The feral dogs exhume up the leftovers.
The ashes are cast unceremoniously into the Ganges where another set of Doms neck-deep in the charcoal-blackened water sift for any valuables, such as good teeth or embossed rings.
Sanjit is a far cry from the days when Doms held complete sway of the ghats. Some years ago, there were protests against the Doms who were accused of extortion. As a result the Doms today can only charge for the sacred fire and cannot pester pilgrims for extra donations.
Sanjit reminisces about the days when his brother Rajit, the Dom Raja at the time, held complete authority over the cremation grounds. He leads you inside to a room where crude body-building equipment is arrayed against the walls. The Doms were known for their physical prowess and at every Naag Panchami (snake worship festival) they make a public show of it, lifting impossibly heavy stone wheels and performing various acrobatics.
“We get strength from Hanuman (the Hindu monkey god),” he says. But suddenly conscious of his fragile half-burnt frame he says, “I could lift up these weights before this happened.”
Sanjit has no children so he is training his fiveyear-old nephew to become the next Dom. Lifting and swinging heavy weights is where the training begins. For now, however, the tiny Dom-in-waiting goes to school like every other child in Varanasi.
In the bazaar if I have to drink water I cannot touch the glass. They pour it down to me. The local people don’t allow me in their homes nor do they come to my place”