Varanasi

And so to Varanasi.... one of the sub-continent's holiest cities and home to the burning ghats.

There is little to prepare you for your first taste of Varanasi - in short this place is unforgettably India. Perched on the river Ganges,some 600km west of Kolkata, for hundreds of years the place is thoughtto be the resting place of some God's toes and a place where young andold come to, put bluntly, die.

Nb, for those of you who do not already know, Varanasi is deemed Hinduism's holiest city and according to the Vedas, one who dies inVaranasi will attain instant moksha, automatically escaping the cycle of death and rebirth (or is it birth and redeath?).

As a result, the city is awash with the aged and dying, as well as Sadhus, hippies, and, to a lesser degree, travellers in search of theinfamous mind-altering drink Bhaang Lassi. Tiny alleyways are crowded to breaking point with homeless cows (and they do shit everywhere) and locals selling all manner of goods and wares while all the time locals try to pick pockets and sell you junk.

I don't know what is a more disturbing sight as you walk along the ghats, legs and arms protruding from the freshly lit funeral pyres (sandlewood is used as one of the four woods on sacred grounds but we think it's to mask the smell of burning flesh) or the naked babas' stretching their penis' into such weird and wonderful shapes - that would put Australia's "penis puppet" show to shame - after chowing down on a lung-busting chillum session!?

And it's here in Varanasi that we realised what we'd been missing all along with yoga...."chai, chillum, chapati, challo", as one master explained shortly before handing us a pipe stuffed full of India's finest hashish and standing up to show just how strong the male sex organ can be after years of abuse.

Figured there's no way better to see the city and its amazing ghats (steps) than from a boat, which for us, and the gang, meant a 4.30am rise. Still the sight of human flesh burning 24-seven and the erie pre-sunrise chanting echoing across the water more than made up for the rude awakening from sleep.

Another reason for our whistlestop trip from Kolkata (marred only by the Indian rail system which really and truly is diabolical at times, despite being so bloody cheap) was to try our hand at the infamous Bhaang Lassi, a local drink made from mixing hand-rolled charis, or hashish, and water from the holy Ganges. Now, given the state of the river (I wouldn't let Tony Blair drink it it's that putrid) we passed on the "authentic" special lassi in favour of a tweaked number made of curd. The taste may be different (not to mention the first trip to the toilet next day) but the effect most certainly isn't. I think the word "hallucinogenic" is most relevent here!