Death Along the Ganges River | The Story of God

Bodies have been cremated on the banks of the River Ganges for hundreds of years, bathed in the waters of their holy river, wrapped in linen, and placed on a wooden pyre. The dead are consumed by flame. Swami Barista, a monk and a doctor, is my guide to death and the afterlife in Hinduism. But the one place he can't take me is the cremation ground itself.

"Okay, this is the holiest crematorium, correct? In the holiest city, on the holiest river, right in the world?"

"Right."

"Okay, can anybody come and watch?"

"In a way, yes, but from far. It is not proper to go there and watch. From far, you can watch, but you can't come to the crematorium."

"Right, uh, it's a secret place."

"You can, however, get very close to a body before it's burned. Mourners carry them down this lane to the Ganges all day long, seven days a week. In Varanasi, life and death mingle freely."

[Music]

"So, Swami, I see these funerals. We've seen two or three pass by, and the people following seem to be joyously chanting rather than sadly wailing. Why is that?"

"They are facilitating the soul's journey further. And in a way, it's a matter of joy. One grief is there, having lost the near one, yeah, but that person has moved on to a better way of getting on with his or her life."