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sque Aur●unzebe, needing but a connecting bar to su▓ggest two goal posts. The tr●ain rumbled across the railway bri▓dge and halted on the edge of t●he city.No engineering genius could ha●ve surveyed a line through i▓t.We plunged into the riot of buildings and w●ere at once engulfed in a whirlpool o●f humanity.D

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amascus and Cairo had seemed▓ over-populated; compared with▓ Benares, they were deserted.Where th●e chattering stream flowed against▓ us, we advanced by short spurts, pa▓u


sing for breath when we were tossed aside int▓o the wares of bawling shopkeepers, or against a● faade decorated with bois d●e vache.Worshipers, massed before outdoo●r shrin


es, blocked the way as ●effectually as stone walls.●Cross currents of pilgrims, burst▓ing forth from Jain or Hindu temple, bore us aw●ay with them through side streets we●

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had not chosen to explore.P●ilgrims there were everywhere, of ever▓y caste, of every shade, from th●e brass-tinted hillm

an to the black Madrasi▓, representatives of all the land of I●ndia from the snow line of the Himalayas to Tut▓icorin by the sea.Among the●m the inhabitants of

Benares were a mer▓e handful. Sacred bulls shouldered us aside w▓ith utter indifferen

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ce to what had once● been the color of our skins.Twice the ●vast bulk of a holy elephant loo▓med up before us.On the frie

zes and ▓roofs of Hindu temples monkeys wearing gli●ttering and apparently costly rings● on every finger scampered and cha●ttered with an audacity that to the n

atives w●as an additional proof of their divinity.● 340We had been buffeted back and

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  • pon ●itself
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h through the tortuous channels for more t▓han an hour when a frenzied beating● of drums and a wailing of p▓ipes bore down upon us. “Re●ligious procession!” screamed M

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●arten, dragging me after him up the steps of a J●ain temple.“We’ll have to hang out ▓here till it gets by.How’s them fer glad rags▓” The paraders were, indeed, atti

red in ast●onishing costumes, even for India.▓ The street below us was q

uickly filled with ▓a screaming of colors no less d

iscordant t●han the harrowing “music” to wh