The Ganges River, India (2)

Julie-Anne Justus
Oct 22
8 min read

Updated: Oct 27

Still heading upstream on the Ganga.

We arrived in Matiari early in the morning.

We’d been woken up by the sound of metal being beaten. Matiari is a village known for its metalwork, brasswork in particular. Many years ago, men from this village were employed in Kolkata in the metalwork industry. When they became too old to work, they returned to their village where they passed down their skills. Kolkata merchants now outsource metalwork to the artisans in Matiari.

Scrap metal is melted in the village foundry and pressed into new sheets of brass. The sheets are then reheated in this furnace. Everything is very basic: the furnace is fed by wood and cow dung, and there are no safety precautions taken at all. We were standing in the furnace yard next to piles of superhot metal, next to workers without gloves or visors or aprons.

The sheets of brass are then turned into various objects. Each craftsman specialises in a different step of the process, so one artisan cuts the metal, another shapes it, another decorates it, and someone else polishes it.

The villagers make some additional money by selling to tourists, but it's small-scale and controlled. Only two families sell items to tourists, on behalf of the the whole village. The small stores are in the front yards of the houses. I bought some gorgeous salad servers and some ingenious incense holders that don't mess!

The village is decorated with pretty metalwork features.

Have you noticed the litter in many photos? Our guide Partha told us that Indians have a 'peaceful coexistence' with trash. (!) What we did note, though, was that people sweep away the litter from the front of their houses and shops. The litter is then piled up into heaps, where the local council comes to collect it. Or not. Most often not, it seems. So litter will lie in public places, not near people's homes.

There are two Indias: cities and villages. 75% of Indians live in rural areas like this. Matiari has a population of about 18,000 people. (The village stats board has crumbled over time and lost a few zeros.) I had a lovely chat with this young girl who was looking after her brothers. Her English was excellent – she learns it from her phone, but likes to practise with foreigners.

We saw the occasional cow, plenty of mangy dogs and many goats. The goats are common in this region; they’re called black Bengali goats. They’re prolific breeders, apparently, as this mother goat and her 6 kids can attest to. Could only get 4 in the photo.

In most villages water is treated and supplied free of charge by the Bengali government to residents. Partha described it as a government benevolence, but I’m sure what they spend in water purification costs, they recoup in public health costs. He also told us that West Bengal has no underground drains. In some, but not all, places, wastewater channels next to the roads are covered by cement slabs.

If you're interested in the politics of water, the Farakka Barrage is a good case study. Upstream on this river, it was constructed to divert water from the main Ganges into the arm we're on, the Hooghly River. This caused major tension between Bangladesh and India because it diverted water from Bangladesh. Suffice to say that in 1977 Bangladesh took the case to the UN, where nothing much happened (other than, presumably, reports) for 25 years, after which eventually India and Bangladesh signed a water treaty. The issue still rumbles on today.

Cow dung is a valuable resource in Matiari, and it’s everywhere. It's not smelly. Houses are plastered with cow dung, both for insulation and for decoration.

Cow dung is also an important source of fuel for cooking. Locals call these sticks 'cow dung kebabs'.

Back on the ship, we had a talk on ayurvedic medicine, and then a demo of sari and dhoti draping and turban winding. About 5 m of fabric is required for a sari, more for a turban, and the drape of your sari identifies where you come from. Bengali saris are draped differently to Rajasthani saris, although I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. I escaped the sari stuff and went for some foot reflexology at the spa.

My favourite Indian street snack was on the lunch menu! They're called dahi puri or dahi puchka. The crispy ball is called a puri, and I'm deliciously familiar with pani puri. Pani puri are filled with spicy water, but these are spectacularly better. Hollow, crispy puris are filled with a mixture of mashed potatoes and chickpea, and are topped with yogurt, chutneys and crispy noodles.

I went back three times.

Next stop is Khushbagh. We’re in the Murshidabad district, about 300 km from Kolkata. We stop at a small farming village, so small that it doesn’t have a jetty and we have to tender from the ship to the shore. Our tender vessel is a sampan and heavy-duty life vests are mandatory. It's a bit disconcerting when, in contrast, we see people crossing the river on heavily packed ferries with 5 life rings.

This is a rice-growing area, which is so fertile that it has three crops a year. You can see the different seasonal crops in the last photo below – one almost ready to harvest. Being next to the river, water is not a concern; in fact, it’s almost free. Farmers pay a token amount for water pumping. Farmers are also exempt from paying tax, no matter how much they earn. This is the source of great discontent from non-farmers in India, but the government sees the farming community (75% of the country) as an important political constituency and the tax regime is unlikely to change.

Mangoes, India’s national fruit, are also grown here, as are lots of different veggies. Date palms are tapped for date syrup, or date jaggery. An earthenware pot is placed at the top of the tree by a skilled date-palm-tapper (see the 'steps' in the palm that have been cut for climbing?) and the juice from the fruit drips in overnight. You have to drink it before 9 am, because that’s when it starts fermenting.

This area is unusual in that it is Muslim. Partha told us these communities opted to stay within India at Partition and here they still are.

So why stop at this village that is probably the same as thousands of others? It’s historically significant for Khushbagh, the ‘Garden of Happiness’, which is the garden-graveyard of the Nawabs of Bengal. Several historic rulers of this region are buried here. A Nawab was a Muslim ruler or nobleman, often a provincial governor. (A Rajah was a Hindu or Buddhist king or prince.)

The key event in this history is the Battle of Plassey in 1757, when the British East India Company under Robert Clive defeated the Nawab and his French allies. It’s an interesting event that includes treachery, bribery and the execution of the traitor by trampling under drunken elephants, but you can look it up if you’re interested. Anyway, the upshot was that after this event, the BEIC had full control of this whole region, and by extension India, for their looting and pillaging. One of our guides quoted the figure of US$45 trillion – that’s how much Britain took out of India over 200 years.

The Nawab and his family who resisted the BEIC are all buried here, in this Garden of Happiness. I do like the idea of these garden cemeteries. (By the way, the flashy white mosque is not the significant building. It's the yellow building that holds the important tombs.)

On board the ship today we had a presentation about Bengali weddings. Some takeaways: the caste system is thriving throughout India, as are arranged marriages; it’s expensive to have daughters; Bengali weddings are full of colour, music, food and jewellery; they take at least 3 days. At the wedding, the first thing a bride and groom do is stare at each other: it’s called the ‘auspicious stare’. They don’t exchange rings, but flower garlands. The bride and groom move around the fire seven times, chanting mantras. Interestingly enough, the Jewish culture has a similar wedding ritual (without the fire). Both Hinduism and Judaism are ancient cultures so this may come from a shared tradition.

I loved the ship’s staff demonstrating a wedding procession — dressed up, dancing and playing music.

And then off we go, to the next village called Baranagar.

There's always a group of children waiting to see the ship dock in these villages. We're instructed by our stern guides not to give money to any of them — not that they are asking for money, I hasten to add. The children are all beautifully behaved and just curious.

Baranagar is a small village that has a number of terracotta temples built in the 1700s and dedicated to Shiva. A rani (queen) who was dying spent her last days in this village and had these temples built.

They’re wonderful examples of terracotta art, considered among the best in Bengal.

The stories they tell are epic. I have become particularly fond of the goddess Durga who has ten arms and hands. Just imagine how much one could get done! In some places, Durga is Vishnu's sister; in other places, she's Shiva's wife. But she's always multi-armed. Spot her above the central door in the photograph below.

We visited a local school (second photo) where the teacher is the first graduate from this village. He returned to Baranagar to teach English to the children, and he currently has 300 pupils from the area. He’s an impressive young man. In India, speaking English is an entrée to a better life. The local primary school (third photo), government funded, does not teach English.

Then it was time for a game of cricket on the village green, with some dogs, cows and goats all milling around. The ship’s crew were impressive players; the guests, not so much. We’re all on the older side of things. The Americans were completely bamboozled by the game but I told one of them to just hit the ball with the bat. Pretend it's baseball!

The village children followed us around like little shadows. I wanted to buy them an ice-cream from the local ice-cream vendor but our guide said no. The government doesn’t want the locals to associate tourists with handouts. The young woman was hand-rolling bidis, cheap cigarettes rolled in leaves. She gets paid a pittance for each one.

One aspect of the shipboard activities that I appreciated was the inclusion of local talent every day. Wherever we tied up, local artists were invited to perform on board. One afternoon we had a young magician who had won national magic contests, and who made a table levitate; we also had a number of dance troupes perform. The young solo male dancer is performing an Orissi temple dance. Orissa (or Odisha) is the state to the south-east of West Bengal.

Ken got into the swing of things one night.

I haven't forgotten to add the food. Mind you, I've already raved about the dahi puchka, but here are some more dishes. At night, on the ship, we could choose between 3 starters, 2 soups, 3 mains and 3 desserts. The starters, soups and mains were all displayed in the dining room as we entered — something I thought really helpful, particularly for fussy eaters.

After a spice-tasting one afternoon, the wonderful chef made me fenugreek roti that night. He served it to Ken and me with chicken biryani, chicken masala and palak paneer. I've thrown in another dessert too: a creamy nutty mousse-y thing.