While watching a Bollywood movie with shots of Benaras' glittering panorama, my friend turned to me and asked me whether I was game for a trip to the ancient city of ghats. I toyed with the idea for a bit, sifting through the differences of my personal beliefs as an atheist and the religious and spiritual atmosphere pervading the city. My travel itch won over and before I knew it, we were scouring the net for places to crash at, with the movie forgotten.
Several places and debates later, we found a place we both agreed on. Quirky, young and with splashes of vivid colour, GoStops Varanasi stood out as the perfect option. It had a range of activities for guests to fill up their vacations with and comfortable beds calling out invitingly.
Bags packed and en route the airport, I couldn't help but feel excited and nervous about my first rendezvous with the ancient city and all that I would learn there.
Day 1
After a few hours, rubber hit the tarmac and we emerged into the mellow sunshine of one of the oldest inhabited cities in the world. The city raced by as the car rolled to our hostel and it was an overwhelmingly sensory experience. The city was built on the ghats by the flowing river Ganga and then branched out into unassuming narrow and chaotic bylanes.
We knew we were in the right place when we rolled to a stop in front of the brightly coloured gate.
With comfy couches and a foosball table in the common room, an eating area, well-lit dorms and a beautiful balcony, the GoStops hostel exuded warmth. Bickering over which bed to take in the mixed dorm we had booked, we met our dorm mates who had just walked in.
Zoe was here from Australia, Ben was a student from Germany and Kaushik from Hyderabad was here, like me, to explore the city.
By the time we headed down towards the reception, we were already getting along famously. We signed up for a cooking class and a market walk along with the others and set off to explore the city.
The best way to soak up the feel of Varanasi was by walking through its labyrinthine, winding lanes which were chaotic and alive with the bustle of bazaars, tiny shops, natives preparing for the day ahead, ash-covered sadhus with matted hair and even a few leisurely cows.
Breaking through the lanes we got to the ghats and when a first-timer looks upon the ghats, they experience a range of indescribable emotions. The sun had touched the surface of the flowing river to turn it into molten gold and the steps of the ghats along with the background of its time-worn buildings makes you realise Varanasi's antiquity.
We had strolled to Tulsi Ghat where saint Tulsidas lived and had worked on Ramacharitamanas, the Hindi adaptation of the Ramayana. There was an akhara adjoining his house where sweaty men wrestled and grunted around in a mud ring, straining sinewy well-oiled limbs as we watched on with fascination.
We headed towards the temples of the ancient city, excited to marvel at their intricate architecture and interesting history. The Sankat Mochan Hanuman Temple is dedicated to Lord Ram and Hanuman and hopeful devotees flock here by the thousands. The temple has been a hotbed for cultural activity such as classical music and dance for almost 100 years now. We were told by a pandit that the annual celebration of the deity has world-renowned artists performing here with retellings dipped in rich history, folklore and the monkey god's adventures in the corporal world.
The next stop was the Kashi Vishwanath Temple whose tall spiral-like structure glinted in the sunlight. Also known as the Golden Temple in Varanasi, the two domes are wrought out of gold donated by the Sikh Maharaja Ranjit Singh. The jyotirlinga of Lord Shiva is enshrined here and reverent devotees drip water and milk on the linga along with flowers and his favourite poisonous fruit, dhatoora. Lord Shiva is greatly revered here and the city they say rests on Shiva's trident.
With the peal of bells in our head, we retraced our steps back to the hostel in time for cooking class. And though I was no great cook, I was interested in sampling the end result of the chef who was assigned to teach us some local cuisine. Zoe and Ben were already clustered around the chef when we joined them. The ingredients were fresh and soon the smell of delicious food being prepared attracted more onlookers.
Emerging with tummies full from the experience, we headed out with promises to join the group for the boat ride later.
Our next stop was Mukti Bhavan where people come to die. You read that right. There are almost no vacancies in Mukti Bhavan where aged people desirous of breaking out of the cycle of life, death and reincarnation with mukti or salvation come to draw their last breath in the holy city. Many come here, hopeful for moksha but when Yamraj isn't ready to claim people back soon, these people must vacate for other hopefuls seeking nirvana. This was explained to us by the residents calmly who had come to terms with this reality of life.
With our thoughts racing from the experience, we were silent as we walked towards the ghats for our boat ride.
The GoStops boat was quite large with seats on all four sides and the group piled on to the bobbing boat amidst much squealing.
Talk ceased as the setting sun carelessly scattered gold in its wake on the waters and painted the horizon. I suddenly realised the meaning of the term ethereal as I looked around, my body moving to the rhythm of the river, the sunset and the city around me.
The Dashashwamedh Ghat is the noisiest, most lively ghat of Varanasi. We bought some paan from a stall nearby and like true Benarasis, with the sweet paan tucked into our mouths, took our place near the five elevated platforms to watch priests preparing for the aarti.
A sadhu sat beside us and presently pulled out a chillum and started packing it, while we looked on incredulously. After a long pull, he noticed me watching him unabashedly and wordlessly offered me the chillum. Soon, he was revealing to us the mysteries of the universe.
He talked about how millions of devotees come to the river Ganga who is considered a mother. He talked about life and the sweetness of death and the continuum of the cycle while I watched priests cleaning brass pots and lovingly laying down flowers on the platforms.
A crowd had assembled and the stars came out to witness the ceremony. Sounds of chanting filled the air as five pandits took the stage with large brass lamps. They commanded the prayers in strong, confident voices and raised the lit lamps to the sky with sparks trailing behind. The priests' movements unleashed an entrancing art of fire and dance and the air crackled with the fervour of devotees crowded behind, venerating the creator, the river Ganga and the destroyer, Lord Shiva; both essential to maintain the balance of the universe.
If you haven't tasted malaiyyo in Benaras, you've missed out on something special. Milk is churned to submission into a creamy texture which is wonderfully light and airy.
It is then topped with saffron and dry fruits and ladled into clay pots. With arms full of malaiyyo, we raced back to the hostel.
With everyone settled in the common room, the malaiyyo was a hit. We moved to the balcony outside as the night continued with strains of classical music wafting nearby and watched the city glimmer with diyas and lights.
Day 2
The city of Varanasi wakes up early in the morning, to the smell of incense and camphor. Tea stalls whip up batches of chai to rouse the city and after a good dose of the hot chai, we went for a ritual dip in the Ganga.
I stood there at the steps a long time, mustering up courage and then jumped in. The cold water revived me considerably and I don't know if I was absolved of my sins, but I secretly hoped I was.
The sun was warming my damp clothes on the steps when a masseuse appeared with promises of a massage the likes of which I would remember for a lifetime. I agreed hesitantly and his robust hands, slathered with oil, started turning my neck this way and that. I feared for my nerves and spine but the rough kneading was a pleasant sensation. After he was done, my entire being was thrumming.
We were slated for a visit to the markets of Varanasi with our friends from GoStops and a pleasant shower later, we emerged to Zoe, Ben and the others with a laden breakfast table. After wolfing down several sandwiches, we set off in high spirits.
We navigated through the narrow lanes to Gowdowliya and encountered some traffic by way of vendors and a stubborn cow or two who stared us down. We neared the market to the steady clicketing of looms. After marvelling over the skill of the workers, we were ushered into cosy shops with mattresses where shopkeepers pulled out reams of bright, hand-woven Benarasi sarees and spread them out before us. The brocade work was stunning and we could imagine the amount of skill and sweat that had gone into making these sarees. The place is also famous for its Bhadohi carpets that are studded with intricate detail and are worth every pretty penny.
Vendors called out to us on the way, gesturing towards their display of jewellery, idols, stonework, wooden toys and furnishings.
We picked up some books from Kashi Annapurna Book House at Assi Ghat before ducking into Suneeta Jewellers nearby. After much exclaiming and admiring, the group bought pretty trinkets for each other and loved ones back home.
Despite a heavy breakfast, we were craving for a snack. The tamatar chaat is Varanasi's own twist on the aloo chaat and is made of mashed potatoes, onions, green chillies and coriander. The masalas make the chaat spicy and after a few bites, Zoe and Ben were dabbing their eyes with tissues.
I spotted some shops selling musical instruments that I wanted to explore and we waved the group goodbye with promises to meet up again in the evening.
Strains of what I suspected was the Banaras gharana filled the shop as the shopkeeper courteously welcomed us in. As I looked around at the sitars, sarangis, tablas, sarods and flutes, we got talking and the man was a veritable treasure trove of information. The wondrous antiquity of Varanasi came alive for me as he explained the guru-shishya parampara which is still present in Varanasi. Musical maestros such as Pandit Ravi Shankar, Pandit Gopal Mishra, Ustad Bismillah Khan and Girija Devi called the city their home and bequeathed to the place their rich legacy. Hence, classical music has lived on and is practised rigorously on ghats, rooftops, at functions, music shops and homes.
With music in my ears, we left the shop after thanking the gentleman. Varanasi had turned me into a local overnight and I had settled into its rhythm with bidis and too much chai.
We bought another cup of chai and after some asking around, were directed towards a shop in Godowlia to buy bhang, legally. Bhang is legal here and is used by many to achieve a meditative state.
Needless to say, the bhang started kicking in and we were in a pleasant trance when we decided to take another boat ride in the fading light. The boat ride would give us a chance to view the aarti up close, from the water this time. After some haggling with an aged boatman and several toothless smiles later, we were bobbing along on the river as the city lit up before our eyes. The boatman took us by Manikarnika ghat to show us the sights.
Manikarnika ghat is where cremations take place. I saw several pyres alight in the distance as the boatman told us that around 100 bodies are burnt each day here and funeral rites here bring moksha (liberation) from the incessant cycle of life and death.
Our boatman took us towards other ghats and then let the boat rest in the middle of the river for a while. Sounds of aarti filled the air as I gazed at the diyas floating on the river in the distance and the lights from the evening prayers twinkling. Since the first time since I came here, I was alone with my thoughts.
Kashi, Benaras or Varanasi, whatever you may call it, the place straddles a realm between life and death, where death is not perceived as painful but rather an essential life truth that is accepted as a release from the mundane struggles of life. Though dipped in the colours of religion, Varanasi was more spiritual in that it pushes you to look for more beyond just yourself. It invites you to search for some meaning in life.
As I met up with my friends from GoStops at the ghats, the strains of classical music continued into the night as we sat down on the steps. Like the night before, the air was heavy with an intensity I had never felt before. Perhaps this is where Kabir or Premchand sat when they wove creations in their head. Perhaps Kashi's carefully nurtured wealth of culture and traditions and its inexplicable energy is what made them fall in love, as I had, with the ancient riverside town.
In association with GoStops