With Pen and Paper, a Hindu Priest Helps Pilgrims Trace Their Past

Then he rushes through the labyrinth of a nearby market, past three-foot-tall pyramids of the bright red powder used by married women to smear their foreheads, sweets salesmen stirring massive pots of boiling milk filled with almond slices and sugar, and merchants hawking brass candleholders shaped like peacocks.

At the river-splashed steps leading down to the Ganges, thousands of people crowd together, holding on to one another to avoid slipping.

At 6 p.m., dozens of bells ring out and a traditional Hindu devotional song sounds fuzzily through the loudspeakers.

Many sprinkle their foreheads with water. They whisper: "Purify me. Purify me. Purify me," since it is said that the Ganges can help wash away sins.

With their bare feet planted on the wet steps, some sing softly, calling on the goddess of Ganga to turn, see them and listen to their prayers.

Pawan helps the pilgrims light cotton wicks that are drenched in ghee, or clarified butter, and poke out of lamps like branches from a tree. The pilgrims wave the lamps in a circle like wands, and the fires glow all around the river. Many of the worshipers cup their hands over the flames and pray.

Then they light candles that are nestled on leaf boats amid strings of marigolds. They launch the boats into the river. With thousands of candles afloat, the water comes awake with a warm rush of flickering light as Pawan watches and smiles.

Afterward, at 6:30 p.m., Pawan visits a shrine that serves as a symbolic bed -- a lime green chest with a stack of glittery blankets -- "for the Goddess Ganga to rest at night," Pawan says.

Standing in a doorway nearby, Davinder Kumar, 18, is wrapped in a blanket. His head is shaved, a sign of mourning. His family of day laborers saved for nearly 15 years to send 40 of its members by train to Haridwar, thousands of miles from their village. This day, they entered their father's name in the book and spread his ashes.

"We are happy to enter the lives of our ancestors in our family book," Kumar says, his eyes moist. "To pay homage to the departed soul is a wonderful tradition."