Escape Stories – Varanasi

This December, work beckoned me to Varanasi and I decided to stay back for a few days more. This city has always been intriguing to me, and more so since I visited it almost ten years ago in 2014. Back then the PM had just been elected from this constituency and the promised better days were anticipated with eager hope. Even now, he occupies an exalted position in every narrative, he is everywhere in the consciousness of the people, so much so that even the newly opened ghat is called Namo Ghat. And every auto and cab guy offered to take me there.

Situated between the two tributaries Varuna & Assi (hence Varanasi), a lifetime in the city is not enough to experience it fully. The political and social life in Varanasi is deeply rooted in its history. Rightly known as the cradle of Hinduism, the city’s ancient roots are well documented. Mark Twain on his travels to India described it as follows:

“Benares is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together”.

Reflections by the Ghats and the Ganga with some chai

But to me, the most fascinating aspect is how the city is perceived differently by different people. To the locals, it is their home and they feel proud to have been born here, and they hope that they would die here. To the casual tourist, it is a warm embrace of spirituality, colour, and rich history. To the pilgrim, it is a dream come true – a long-awaited journey to the holy land blessed by the river Ganges. To the grieving, it is a place for them to cremate their loved ones or immerse their ashes in the river and bid them goodbye for their final journey. To me, it has always been an ideal place for deep reflection.

December is the most suitable month for this activity. Over the next few days, I wanted to spend a long time by the river, watching the boats go by, and sea-gulls fly, penning down my thoughts about the year that had been. I was confident because Varanasi grants you that space, even amidst the chaos and the crowd.

For instance, at the Manikarnika Ghat — the famous cremation ground, I spent a long time in silence looking at the burning pyres. There was masala lemon chai being sold along with some snacks. After all, even the grieving need refreshments. But joining me were other onlookers, who had no relation to the dead, but like me sat there staring at the burning logs, lost in deep thought. Of course, vloggers and tourists made videos and took selfies but no one seemed to mind them. Poultry, baby goats, and cows strolled dangerously close to the pyres. Morbidly, the heat from the pyres helped to drive the cold away. Each one of us had a different purpose of being there. And we all inhabited that space comfortably.

Varanasi is cold around this time of the year. But all the brisk walking (I clocked 10 km on average per day) everywhere helped me to warm up quite a bit. Though, every time I got cold I reached out to the nearest Kulhad wali chai shop and sipped the warm drink of pleasure. The chai here is prepared on a bhatti (clay oven) with hot coals lining the top. I think. on average I must have had 6-8 cups easily over the two days that I spent walking about the city. That’s a cup of chai for every 1.25 km of walking!

There are many worlds in Varanasi. But the most relatable is the world that exists on the ghats by the Ganga. The ghats have been patronised by various wealthy individuals including the Peshwas, the Marathas, The Rajas of various princely states as well as wealthy merchants. One can discern the benefactor by the grandeur of the architecture of the buildings seen on the various ghats.

While some are plain and simple, there are exquisite ones with high pillars and mahals sitting on top. With commanding views of the Ganges and the city, many of them have been converted into ultra-luxurious hotel chains. Walking the ghats and up the steps can take you to these temples and mahals, and it is surprising how much height you can gain at some ghats and some of the steep climbs are worth it considering the views that these perches offer.

At certain ghats like Riwa Ghat, you may find guitarists and flautists at the time of dusk and dawn, playing melodious tunes or simply jamming with each other. I also encountered a group of young hip-hops artist beat boxing at dawn near Tulsi Ghat. Music is everywhere in Banaras.

This is also the place where pilgrims descend to bathe and wash off their sins in the Ganga. It is the place where they come to worship the Sun, the Ganga herself, and also participate in the elaborate affair of Ganga Aarti performed at the Rajendra Prasad Ghat as well as at Assi Ghat. Ganga maa, as she is referred to reverentially, occupies a central position in Kashi. Though the number of boats over the Ganges including large river vessels has increased since 2014, her genteel nature remains unchanged.

It was extremely calming to sit by her banks and watch her flow towards the sea.

I also took whimsical boat rides over the Ganga while at the ghats. As a solo traveller anywhere in India, engaging in such services for yourself can be expensive. But not in price-sensitive Kashi. There are numerous group boat rides that you can join in. For instance, one evening a small vessel with plastic chairs was available for a 2-hour ride across all 88 ghats, with a 30-minute stop for Ganga Aarti. All this for a princely sum of Rs. 100. The young chap pitched the entire package to me in less than a minute and I was sold.

I went and sat at the stern wearing my military camo life jacket (another new addition since 2014 – life jackets on every boat). Behind me was a small family from Maharashtra, a couple and their mother,  and we soon got talking. Turned out that the gentleman was a young IAS officer posted in Patna, a recent pass-out of the academy, he was a first-generation learner of his family. His stories were very inspiring and exchanging thoughts on development issues and governance was fun. The boat ride ended and we shared a chai at Assi (Dadaji ki Chai – highly recommended) and promised to stay in touch.

Another time I took a boat for Rs. 50 to cross over the river and go onto the sandy beach side where the usual tourist troupes were present. Camel rides, massages, print photos and whatnot. On the boat ride, I again met a family from Maharashtra and a family who lived on the ghats. They seemed to enjoy the evening ride feeding seagulls now and then. They spoke about Kashi with utmost pride.

But when the ghats got too much, I would find solace in the numerous gullies or narrow lanes that connect the ghats to the main road. It is easy to get lost in these lanes but it is also easy to be found. With a general sense of direction of the sun and the river, you should be able to navigate easily. Though I had nowhere to be and no fixed plans so I didn’t mind wandering about the ghats and also occasionally getting lost.

Such a walk around near Assi brought me to a few remarkable places such as the Lolark Kund – the kund of the trembling sun, a deep chamber built underground to perform rituals. Closeby was also the ashram where Saint Tulsidas lived and wrote the Ramcharatiramanas, as also the Tulsi Akharas where Pehelwans (Wrestlers) still practice the art of wrestling. 

One evening, I exited Manikarnika Ghat and walked past Blue Lassi and at least 8 funeral processions, across Kachori Gully and I emerged onto Chowk and then onto Godowlia – both nerve centres of commerce in the city. I was keen on having the famous chats. But I was disappointed by the crowds outside the two famous chaat places – Kashi Chaat Bhandar and Deena Chat. So I continued walking in search of some food and chanced upon a Hing Samosa place near Shivala Ghat and temporarily satiated my hunger. There was Malaiyyo everywhere – the world-famous winter dish but I was not craving anything sweet so I continued my aimless wandering.

Of all the things I ate in Kashi, Baati Chokha, stood out the most for me. I found a nice place serving it near Assi and I ate there every night. Dough balls stuffed with spicy sattu – powdered bengal gram roasted on coals and served with ghee, chutney, and onions. Accompanying it was Chokha – which is a superb mash-up of boiled potatoes, raw onions, roasted brinjal and green chillies mixed with mustard oil. This filling but delicious meal was quite balanced and satisfying. The place was called Banarasi Baati Chokha Club run by Pradipta Singh and her very affable staff member Amit ji who ensured that I ate well every evening.

In Search of Silence in Sarnath

One morning, I set out on a whim to Sarnath. It is where the Buddha delivered his first sermon to his first five disciples. Naturally, it has been an important town for believers, historians, and tourists. I skipped breakfast and arrived early in Sarnath. But I am not the one to fast and I located Hotel Dolma on the main road next to the Tibetan Monastery. I ordered puri and aloo dum, and to my delight, the puri was the tibetan one – fluffy and quite thick. I devoured it, greeted Tashi Delek to all the Tibetan monks there, and set off to the museum.

Last time I visited Sarnath, it was a Friday and the museum was shut. So this time I was eager to visit especially to see the Lion Capital – our national emblem which is kept there. The ASI-run museum is very old and very well-maintained. But the entry was only by scanning a QR code, which is highly inconvenient for many Indians who may not be digitally so savvy. I had a run-in with the security guards on behalf of the many monks who were visiting from Himachal.

I promised to escalate the matter and like any other digital warrior – I wrote to ASI and UP Tourism on Twitter (X) with no response from them. Once inside the complex, I was requested to deposit my bag and phone.

At the entrance, I was greeted by the Lion Capital. The beauty of this polished work of art is hard to describe. The lions don’t look ferocious but look delighted, almost as if smiling. There are four in total but only two have all features intact. As I walked around the capital, I saw the Ashoka Chakra and the four animals – the bull, the horse, the lion and the elephant at the base. In admiration, I lost count of how many times I circumambulated the pillar. The polished stone, the exquisite detailing and its importance to the nation as its insignia were quite overwhelming.

There are many other important creations in this museum. I was fascinated by Tara Devi’s statue, the statues of Bodhisattvas and of course, the very elegant Buddha preaching his first sermon. Carved in sandstone, it depicts the Buddha sharing his teachings with the first five disciples and deer, symbolising the deer park where he delivered this sermon. I stood there again for a long time just taking in the details. Not having my phone helped because instead of taking a picture, I could focus on the image in front of me. 

I exited the museum and walked to the Dhameka Stupa complex. The excavated monasteries of the Ashokan period appeared first. There are various votive stupas as well as an edict of the Ashokan times – part of the famous messages that he wrote to his people via these inscriptions on various pillars. It was a peaceful place as it was still early morning and tourists had not made their way to Sarnath. There was also the Mulgandhi Kuti – the place where Buddha seemed to have stayed. Though towering the entire skyline of Sarnath is of course the Dhameka Stupa, standing tall at nearly 50 feet. 

This imposing stupa which is reportedly built over the relics of the Enlightened one is one of the most sacred sites for Buddhists. Walking around the structure, one can see various embellishments on the walls. This signifies the turning of the wheel of law, which the Buddha set in motion after his first sermon. Alexander Cunnigham, the father of the Archaeological Survey of India, bored a hole through the centre in search of the relics and found an inscription that described the importance of the stupa.

I strolled past the deer park where there are a few deer who eat out of your hand if you feed them palak. I settled myself under a neem tree, overlooking the complex, and sat down in silence. There was a gentle breeze blowing across the complex and pilgrims of all nationalities were sitting around, with their legs folded, eyes closed in meditation. I followed suit and didn’t realize how the time passed. Large groups of schoolchildren and college students had now descended upon the complex. I figured it was time for me to leave, so I set off. I visited the small shrines erected by various Governments of the world and then ended up at another Tibetan restaurant for a thukpa. I had left the ghats in search of silence and I found it at Sarnath.

I booked a taxi for the ghats again and this time ended up at Rajghat.

Vishnu’s Kashi

I wanted to explore the other side of the ghats beyond Manikarnika. Diana Eck in her brilliant book Banaras – The City of Light explains how Kashi is divided into Shiva’s side and Vishnu’s side. This side of the ghats -Vishu’s side was relatively quieter, more deserted, and homely. But also not as well ornate or well maintained as the ones that stretch between Assi and Manikarnika or the Shiva’s side.

When I reached the Pachaganga ghats I made the steep climb, about 100 steps to the Darhara Mosque and the Bindu Madhav temple. A mosque built by Aurangzeb, it is also known as the Alamgir mosque. The mosque is said to be built over the old temple which is now located across the street. It is worth the climb as these offer a commanding view of the region. It was on these steps that Kabir received his blessings from his guru – Saint Ramannand. The story goes as follows, upon being refused to be accepted as a student, Kabir waited on these steps for the Guru to come down. He prostrated himself and tripped him over as he walked towards the Ganga for his morning bath. When tripped he uttered the Lord’s Name – Ram and that was sufficient for Sant Kabir, who proclaimed “this is my guru mantra and you are my guru from hereon”

Back to Being Dust – An Hour at Harishchandraghat

On my way back on the great Ghat walk I stopped at the Harishchandra Ghat. Reportedly the oldest cremation ground of Kashi. Diana Eck mentions in her book that as per traditions the final journey of the mortal spirit is disturbed if one cries at the time of cremation. And at a pyre about to be lit, the grieving son, freshly tonsured wearing only a dhoti somberly lit the pyre of his mother after circumambulating it and then stood away. I sat on a bench watching the pyre come to life. 

The fire engulfed the body slowly and steadily. A strong gust of breeze blew from the banks and it lifted the ash from the pyre which drifted back to the ground settling in on my sweater and hair. Baby goats sought refuge from the cold under the fire and an intoxicated old priest kept gesticulating with a stick to everyone who passed by. Again like at Manikarnika, there was lemon tea being served here. The son had some and ordered a few cups for his relatives as they stood discussing their return journey plans. 

The corpse on the other hand continued to burn. The face was covered so I couldn’t see much but the cloth over the feet burnt first without touching the feet. The feet remained outside for a few minutes. The arch of the foot, and the toes were blackened with soot but still distinguishable from the rest of the body, which had burnt away by then. I wondered if the attendant present would adjust the corpse to ensure a more uniform burning.

But instead, he went for a quick dip in the river. When he came back, he held his towel near the fire to dry it quickly. Everything was every day for everyone at the Harishchandraghat. There was no sense of bizarreness in the somber moment. Fire endured. As the logs started to burn off, the fire found its way to the exposed feet. In a few moments, the outline of the toes disappeared and the last of the remains were lost in the fire. 

In the end, when death comes this is what remains — first your body and then nothing else. You go back to the elements that you came from, back to being dust that floats above, suspended over gusts of air.

Casual Conversations

It was a moment of peace for me to have witnessed the full cremation. I had not walked past it as I had done at Manikarnika. It was as if I was part of the grieving party which had accompanied it to the ghats. I didn’t realize when dusk had settled in. During winters the sun disappears very early here and I found myself at Prabhu Ghat sipping a chai, pondering over the questions of life and death.

At the chai stall, a buxom lady carrying a large handbag was having chai. She and the chai wallah were curious about my journey. When I told her where I was staying, a bit far from the Ghats, she was aghast and she offered to take me to a guest house, which she allegedly also owned. I was not in the mood for any adventure so I politely declined. I was in deep thought and I wanted to sit by the river. I was later to find out that she was not the owner of any guest house but nevertheless a business owner in her own right.

In Kashi, chatting with strangers is quite common. I found an auto driver giving medical advice to a passenger (giloy leaves for joint pain), a bookshop owner keen on giving me written directions, another auto driver who shared his prescient observations about people with names starting with K (they are evil, stay away). He also shared how every city in India has a Prem Nagar and how people who live in that neighborhood have a good heart. He had spent his good years in Gujarat hence affixed his name with Bhai. He was a good chap – Vinaybhai. 

Getting around the city is simple if you are not too picky. There are shared autos for almost all places. You get them from the main junctions called chaurahas and then you change a few to traverse the entire city for a measly sum. But there is also Uber and Ola here. Be prepared to pay more than the fare as the drivers take longer routes to ensure they get billed more.

When I told one of them that I could easily claim this money from the company and they were likely to penalize the drivers, he was surprised. He had assumed that just by taking a circuitous route, they could con the app wallahs. Big tech vs. small business owners is a game hard to win for David. Uber is also testing the Flex feature in this market, which allows you to negotiate on the fare. Again drivers bid for a higher value in the hope that they will make more money but the users simply switch to Ola. A lose-win strategy. Another day for the gig worker.

One thing, however, everyone seemed to just accept as a way of life was hygiene or the lack of it in public spaces. The smell of ammonia greets you at unexpected places on the ghats – thanks to the open urinals, which are located at various corners. There are many such open urinals across the city as well which pose a significant health risk. Open gutters and poor waste disposal add to the risk of health hazards considering street food is quite widely and commonly consumed. Maybe it is also a matter of changing habits rather than just the provisioning of infrastructure.

On this trip, I couldn’t visit a few tombs and the Kabir Chauraha. I also couldn’t go to Ramnagar fort or to the prominent temples. Nor could I spend a good time at the Bharat Mata temple or the famous observatory of Raja Mansingh. Nor did I visit Madanpura and Kunj Gali for Banarasi Silk Sarees.

But I spent a lot of time by the river, taking in the sights, smells and the sounds which this amazing city had to offer. Armed with me were two books, one by Diana Eck and the other by Nandini Majumdar which details walks across the city. And while they helped me to make sense of the nooks and crannies of the city, the people of Banaras always took the timeout to chat and share their stories, and enquire about my experience in the city.

At the world-famous Vatika Pizzeria in Assi, I shared my table with a young paediatrician and his friend who was training to be an Air Traffic Controller. They shared their adventures in the city with me, warning against indulging in chaat at random street corners. But while there was practical advise, there was a lot of free gyaan everywhere and mostly it came from the wise old men that I encountered. They took it upon themselves to share nuggets of wisdom with me. I also came across many solo travellers including many women travellers walking the streets. Each seemingly on a quest of their own. 

Misty Mornings by the Ganga

On my final morning here, I woke up very early and set out in the cold to worship the Ganga at dawn. There was thick fog over the ghats and the visibility was low. But the atmosphere was charged up. Temple bells were clanging, old Bollywood music was blaring over at a distance, yoga camps were in progress, and the faithful were plunging themselves into the icy cold waters of their beloved Ganga maa. I was glad that I had braved the morning cold to witness this spectacle.

The sun rose and appeared suddenly, the morning was not dramatic at all. But I found myself joining countless pilgrims with hands folded in gratitude turning to the sun. Though it remained foggy for a few hours, Kashi was awake and alive in no time. The cacophony had increased and it was time for me to go. After a quick breakfast on the streets and a quick last chai, I was on my way back with a bagful of memories, some deep lingering thoughts, and an intense desire to return.