As Trilok woke up, it looked like he was watching a painting. Not just any painting. A masterpiece. Everything about the scene was perfect. The old sandstone buildings shone like gold due the early morning sunlight. The water flowed swiftly and the sound of the flow was like music to the ears. The reflection of the buildings made it look like the water was on fire. The trees on the banks were shedding their leaves. The dried leaves in the existing plants added to the look. It really seemed like everything was on fire. Yet, there was no panic. There was a calm that was broken only by the musical chirping of birds. Birds were returning from their search for food and the fishes in the water were swimming without worry. It was autumn in the city and it was the best time for visiting. Not that it mattered. People flocked to the city throughout the year. There were several myths about the city.  “I wouldn’t mind waking up to see that for the rest of my life,” said Trilok, yawning and stretching. He did not like autumn at home. He was usually the one who had to rake the leaves. The chore had become better with audio books but he still did not grow to love it.  Trilok’s father, Albert Steveson, was at the window. He looked at the banks of the city with reverence. Trilok had been named at his mother’s insistence and had been raised with both faiths. After thirty-years of his life, he found himself indifferent to faith while his father stood with his arms folded in respect like a devout Hindu. “This is magnificent,” he said enthusiastically. “Makes you wish mom was here with us,” said Trilok. He did not need to fold his hands. He did not want to say a prayer. One thing was undeniable. The pristine morning calm of the city of Varanasi was indescribable. He had been bored at his job and accepted his father’s offer to visit India. This was the first view that convinced him that he had made the right choice.  It had been seven years since he started his career. It paid him well but he did not find satisfaction. He went to the same office, did the same work and came back home. Life was monotonous. When he started off as a scientist, he had expected to change the world. When he told his parents about this, both his parents had the same answer.  “You should get married,” his mother would say. Surprisingly, his father said the same. His father and mother were a loving couple but they were very different people. Of course, a Hindu woman from India and a British man of American descent were never going to have an arranged marriage. Somehow, his parents made it work. They never changed but they found a way to co-exist. That was not common in Trilok’s generation. “Is that your answer to everything?” he would ask exasperatedly. “It worked for us,” said his father cheerfully. Trilok would scoff at this statement, every single time. He could not co-exist with his parents. He had taken an apartment in another part of the city. He did not know how he could co-exist with another person.   “Quit dreaming. We are here,” said Albert, nudging him softly.  The luxury boat came to a halt close to the banks. From there, they were transported to the bank in smaller boats. The bank, unlike the luxury boat, was not silent. It was early but people were already buzzing. For the Hindus, Varanasi was the most divine of lands. The waters of the Ganges were believed to wash away the sins of people. Albert Steveson got off the boat, cupped his hands and drank the clear water. “Dad!” said Trilok nervously. The place did not look clean. There were people dumping ritual offerings into the river and praying. “I know what I am doing,” said his father reassuringly.  Trilok sighed. His father got out of the boat and promptly stepped into the water. He was knee-deep in the water and playing like a child. There was so much excitement in his face. He looked like a kid who had been taken to Disneyland. “I don’t know how you enjoy this place. You keep coming here every month. Don’t you get bored of it?” asked Trilok. Trilok had nothing linking him to India but his name. His mother had insisted that he be named per her faith. He did not mind. It was a cool name even in the western world. His father, a celebrated microbiologist, had been to India a dozen times in the past eleven months. He had been to the country more times than his mother by now. She had her hands full at home with her business. His father seemed to like the place so much. He was even considering moving to India. Each time, he brought home several sealed copper vessels. The vessels contained ‘Gangajal’ or the holy water of the river Ganga. His mother treated those vessels with reverence. “Why did you have to bring me here?” asked Trilok. He had seen very little of India during his time attending conferences.  “You are on vacation. Live a little,” said Albert. “Hairy old men in loincloths. This is not exactly what I had in mind for a vacation”, he replied wryly. He wanted a change. He had travelled around the world to many exotic places. He did not have much of a budget and this trip was cheap. “You get into the water with a bathing suit on. This is their bathing suit. A far simpler one,” said Albert with a chuckle. “There are so many places on this travel guide and I want to get them all done before we leave”, said Trilok. He wondered what he had been thinking when he told his father that he would accompany him to India. He liked Indian food but he did not have to travel across the globe to try it. His mother made excellent food. The travel guide had promised him street food that was famed across the world. The travel guide had lowered his expectations but he was still disappointed. “You share a name of the God of this city. You could be a little patient and enjoy a little”, said Albert shaking his head with disapproval. The deity of the local temple was Shiva. Locally, the Lord was known as Vishwanath. His name literally meant ‘three worlds’, earth, heaven and hell. Shiva was the Lord of all the three.  “I am on vacation, dad. I need to make the best use of it”, said Trilok, shaking his head. He wished that he had waited and taken a better one. “You are in Varanasi. This should be every microbiologist’s dream,” said Albert Steveson energetically. “Why? What does this have to do with microbiology?” asked Trilok looking around. Then he noticed it. There were more than five corpses being burnt within a hundred metre radius. He had been told about this by the travel guide. It was early. He had heard that there would be more as the day went by.  “Do you notice anything?” asked Albert with a grin. “What is this place?” asked Trilok, looking around. “We are in the middle of a Ghat,” said Albert with a smile.  “Corpses being burned everywhere,” said Trilok in a low voice. “That is what a Ghat is. Yet, it doesn’t stink like it is supposed to,” said Albert gesturing to look around. It was true. Burning bodies had a very unpleasant smell. That morning, it was not that bad. There were people eating on the steps leading to the river bank. They were not too far from the burning bodies but they seemed indifferent to the smell. “This is surprising,” said Trilok, looking around curiously. He walked a little closer to a burning body but there was hardly any smell. “Unbelievable,”, he said aloud. “That is not all. Smell the flowers in one of the shops,” said Albert eagerly. Trilok walked to a flower store and looked at the seller. The woman had a decorated red dot in the centre of her forehead. It was the size of a dime. She greeted him warmly and offered him a short length of some white flowers for thirty rupees. The flowers had a very subdued fragrance. It was the same with all the flowers in the store, even roses. “What trickery is this?” he asked looking at his father.   “This is why I wanted you to come here,” said Albert gesturing to his son to get into the water. Trilok took off his shoes reluctantly and folded his pants. He did not want to get his clothes wet. He stepped into the water which was comfortable. “The water here has magic in it,” his father added in a whisper. “You are a man of science,” said Trilok, looking at his father with surprise. “My science tells me exactly that,” he said confidently. “How?” asked Trilok, intrigued by his father’s words and excitement. “Even before the twentieth century, a British Bacteriologist observed the healing powers of the waters here. It could have been due to the melting permafrost at the river’s origin or something else. It was still special. Cholera was considered fatal then. People were condemned and cremated in these waters,” said Albert. “Cholera is waterborne,” said Trilok, remembering something that he had read somewhere. If it was in a river, it could have exploded into an epidemic. “You are absolutely right. Yet, there were no epidemics coming downstream this river. I have been to several places along the route this river takes and I have run several tests this past year. This whole river is special but this place is something else entirely,” said Albert triumphantly. “How is that so?” asked Trilok curiously. “This place is an anomaly. The area around this place is a hotspot for bacteriophages. The best part? This was documented nearly two decades before their actual discovery,” said Albert splashing a little water on his son.  “Stop playing like a child! Tell me how this worked. Surely, there must have been some explanation,” said Trilok doubtfully. “It did not start then. This has been a practice for ages. People had been coming here to this very city and bathing in these waters. They believed that it had the power to wash their sins,” said Albert. “You believe that?” asked Trilok. “I don’t know about sins but how did they know that these waters had such properties? That remains a mystery. They identified that there was something in these waters that had powers. They did not have the technology we have but they have been smarter than us,” said Albert. “You are reading too much into it,” said Trilok dismissively. “The Ganga and the Yamuna had microorganisms that were better against a particular strain of cholera each. The rivers join together at one point post which the rivers become something that interests me. We talk about holy water. This really is holy,” said Albert with a look that was almost reverent. “You can’t give them credit for something they never understood,” said Trilok but realized that his father would counter him on this. Albert was a man of faith and he had started to embrace more than one religion over the last decade. He was more interested in the science behind religious practices.  “How did they know? Why here? They talk about purification in their stories. It is happening literally. The thing I love about your mother’s religion is the stories. They don’t give you sermons. They give you simple stories with deep meaning. People often lose the science in religion but the stories are often to the point in Hinduism,” said Albert.  “You have been coming here for a while now. What else have you found?” asked Trilok. He knew his father. While he had a fondness for religion, he was a practical man. “The waters contain a huge concentration of bacteriophages. That is the scientific explanation for many of the phenomena here,” said Albert. “Do you know how it happened? Why here?” asked Trilok. He had studied a bit about bacteriophages. He knew how they worked but he did not know the specifics. “I have no answer. That astounds me. It seems magical to the layman but it doesn’t seem any less magical to me, a man of science,” said Albert looking at the water with respect. He had heard a lot about the diverse nature of the people of the country. Even within their largest religion, they had a lot of divisions. Despite this fact, the people of this country were drawn here. It was holy to everyone in the country. Trilok saw his father beaming like never before. He seemed genuinely delighted to be there. He saw dead bodies, cows and a lot of people. His father was looking like a child in a candy store. He looked happy and enthused. Then he had a doubt. “Why did you bring me here?” he asked curiously. “You research water purification. I have brought you to nature’s biggest purification environment,” he said, extending his arms dramatically.  “I look around and I don’t see a clean place,” said Trilok looking around. “I have the tests and the numbers are convincing. This place is exhibiting results despite everything that is happening around here,” said Albert confidently. “You are telling me to believe in a religious miracle,” said Trilok sharply. “I’m telling you to discover the science in this place,” shot back Albert. “When the science is found, religion is exposed,” said Trilok. Albert took a moment. He was staring at his son. His lips curved into a smile. “Science doesn’t mean the absence of God. It would be arrogant to think that there isn’t a higher power,” he said softly.  “What are you asking me to do?” asked Trilok slowly.  “You have been bored, son. I know that you have been dissatisfied with your work. You have been trying to create a solution for pure water with your company. I am asking you to find out the truth behind something that is already there,” said Albert. “Do you think I can do it?” asked Trilok. “Perhaps the secret to clean water lies concealed by mother nature. I don’t know if you will find it but I think that the search will break your monotony,” he said kindly. Trilok looked at his father and nodded. He was a man of science and religion, one of the best examples of both co-existing. He knew why he was here on this Autumn evening now. With luck, he could find the phenomenon that was causing the anomalies in the Ganges. If he could replicate that, it could provide a means for clean water for the entire world. He would have changed the world. More importantly, he was finally seeing the possibility of having some meaning to his work. He looked again at the place around him.  The sunlight, the sandstone buildings and the shedding trees made it look like the water was burning. Corpses were literally burning. It did not seem like a vacation but for the first time in a long time, he was curious.  *** Author's note : This is based on real-life scientific discoveries about the waters of the Ganges. I wrote this story for an awareness program as a fact-based-fiction story. I have modified it a bit to suit the theme. Nature has so many mysteries. India is blessed with wonderful natural history.     Penmancy gets a small share of every purchase you make through these links, and every little helps us continue bringing you the reads you love!