We fell in love with Varanasi (Benares) the minute we arrived in this holy Hindu city in May of 2000. Foremost in capturing our attention was our enjoyment watching men and women walk down the ghats to take their ritual bath in the Ganga (Ganges) river. They carry water from the river back with them far away to their home villages. People come here to die and thus reach Nirvana immediately. People who can afford it have their bodies burn on the funeral pyres and then obtain bliss as the ashes are carried into the holy water. Poorer people may have their bodies carried into the river, wrapped in cloth.

I had visited Varanasi twice before I met Surain, in 1971 and 1974. For this trip I told her that this was the only place we absolutely had to visit, and the minute she saw it, she knew what I meant. During the earlier visits when I was just a foreigner to Hindu values, I was shocked to see people swim in what appeared to be dirty water. But by this visit I had gained a greater understanding, so like the Hindus I swam in the holy river. It was my sixth visit to India, and Surain's third.

Varanasi is much more than just the river. The city teems with life, with religion, with sadhus (holy men). It is a maze of narrow, winding lanes, and in many places you cannot even drive a rickshaw. Cows and especially water buffalos have the write-of-way, as they come waddling through the streets, threatening to crush you against nearby walls.

My plan is to - if Hindu customs will allow it - burn Surain's ashes once more on a Hindu funeral pyre, and then carry the ashes down to the river. She was not a Hindu, but her beliefs were close to some of their beliefs. Maybe the Hindu Nirvana will give her peace.

Once in Varanasi, I changed my plans to use rituals that Indians use for non-Hindu funerals (as suggested by Indians). Elizabeth and I went out on the river on a typical riverboat. We both had orange wreaths around our necks. I wore the classic Indian dress for men, a dhoti that I had tied in North-Indian style. Surain loved to see me wear this dress. A boatsman was at the oars. He took us out to the middle of the river from where we could see our favorite parts of Varanasi, all the ghats on the north shore and the large sandbanks on the south shore. These banks are filled with water during the monsoon.

I spread the ashes on a small, green float and ringed the edges of the float with beautiful colorful flowers. Next, we covered the ashes with more flowers, and put incense sticks on top of the flowers. I bent my head down towards the float three times. Then I slipped the float into the river and let it drift away. It was slowly taken by the current and gently moved away from us, away along Varanasi towards the ocean.

Another boat glided by to deliver eleven small bronze lamps. The lamps were put on small paper floats, and then filled with ghee (clarified butter used by Indians in ceremonies). We then lit the lamps. Once they were all lit, we carefully placed them on the river and let them, too, float away from us.

My close friends Jia Song Yuen and Frank James had given me rhododendron leaves from China to be spread with the ashes. So two days later we were back on the river, but this time at sunset instead. We put a beautiful wreath on the water, and then the little float inside the wreath. We spread the ashes on the float and the rhododendron leaves on top of the ashes. Finally the incense sticks went on top. It was powerful to see the light shine on this arrangement as it floated away in the darkness.

India is a very important part of my life. My new wife Ghislaine and I both agreed that our first major trip together had to be to India. She loves travelling and seeing all kinds of cultural manifestations around the world. Among many other places, we went back to Varanasi (my fifth visit), the holy city where I had spread Surain's ashes.

Again we took a river boat at dawn. This time I was dressed in the more informal lungi rather than the formal dhoti. We put flowers on small floats, lit inscents on them, and then let the floats drift out from us, slowly away from Varanasi towards the Indian Ocean.