My Varanasi Trip in Pictures

Last year in November, my friend Vinod and I decided to make a trip to Varanasi. I had been there once a few years earlier and something that I can't explain kept calling me back. It was the first time for Vinod and I knew that with him being a devout Hindu, I would be experiencing and learning about things that I wouldn't otherwise.

Being the oldest living city, Varanasi attracts hoards of tourists from across the world. Hindu's go to this Holy city to wash away their sins and offer their prayers at various important temples, Kashi Vishvanath being the holiest of all the Lord Shiva temples. Most foreign travelers include Varanasi in their itinerary because a trip to India would simply be incomplete without it. 

Whether it's religion or curiosity that draws you to Varanasi, almost everyone I've encountered agrees that it's a place like no other. Both times I was there, I took literally hundreds of photos. Here are just a few to give you a glimpse into my last stay.

What better way to start your day than with prayer. Mornings in Varanasi are really my favorite time, beginning with a beautiful sunrise, the waking up of the ghats, boats floating gently in the Ganga river and temple bells in the background. 

Mornings are also a great time to go for a boat ride. Feeding the birds is optional but so much fun.

Its time to eat! On all four days, breakfast consisted of kachoris and jalebis (see bottom), which is probably as unhealthy as one can get. Never went back to the same place and we saved the best for our last day, which was a 20 minute hike from our hotel. A brisk morning walk followed by consuming a million calories!

This photo with 5 humans and a dog clustered together makes me smile. Is personal space overrated? Does sharing space actually bring us more joy? I encounter a lot of loneliness amongst the more affluent. Have we forgotten how to share our time, our space, our joys and sorrows in the real world because we're so busy sharing our lives on social networks?

Hindu's believe that bathing in the Holy Ganga river will wash away their sins. These two are unabashedly having a great time. No sins to wash so let's just have some fun!

The choreographed Ganga aarti (evening prayers by the Ganges river) is spectacular and Vinod and I looked forward to it every evening that we were there. Varanasi gets a large number of foreign tourists, one of who from the UK confessed to me that it was this evening aarti that had brought her back for a second visit. 

Man or animal, there's a lot of introspection that happens in Varanasi

Your head finds so much that is wrong with Varanasi. Your heart, on the other hand, just chooses to look at everything that makes this oldest living city so incredibly special.

Varanasi can never be explained. It can only be experienced. You either love it or you hate it and I completely understand both emotions. The love that I have for it, sometimes even takes me by surprise.

Shortly before heading to Sarnath and then the airport,  I decided to walk around the ghats one last time. It was late afternoon, strangely quiet and I was trying to absorb the sights and sounds that are so unique to Varanasi. Even though I had been there for 4 days, I knew that there was still so much that I was leaving behind to discover in my next visit. 

There's something about Varanasi - Part 2 - 'Look out for the Poop'

It was already 1 pm and I hadn’t eaten anything since dinner, the previous night. But before I could think about feeding myself, I had to get done with my morning business and brush my teeth. So it was imperative that we get to the hotel as quickly as we could and not head to a saree store instead where Aparna wanted me to help pick a saree for her mother. “Our rooms aren’t ready yet,” she tried convincing me as I got grumpier by the second. 

The narrow lanes, with a
Japanese signboard?

As the shopping ordeal ended and we finally began making our way towards the hotel, Aparna, who had been around for a couple of hours and was now well-versed with the art of walking in the old city, kept asking me to keep my eyes on the road. “You’re going to step into poop”, she said. Maneuvering through the narrow lanes chock-a-bloc with humans, stray dogs, cows and the occasional cycle or motor cycle while watching out for cow poop, plus carrying on a conversation, was interesting to say the least. To give you a perspective, a motorcycle in these lanes could be a bigger bully than a Hummer on a side-street. Mostly lined with shops on both sides, a couple of times I had to jump into one of them to make way for traffic. Or a large cow! Could be a fun video game. 

Our hotel was much nicer than what I was expecting. And the best part was that it was right on the Ghat. What I was however, not expecting, was to be greeted with a garland of red roses as I started to walk inside. In fact I was so busy talking that I didn’t even notice someone waiting to pounce over me with it, until it actually happened. Aparna, of course was cracking up, saying “I couldn’t wait to see the expression on your face!”. 

On the left is the Dasaswamedh Ghat where the evening aarti takes place. To the right, the red steps lead to our hotel.

Our first day was completely packed. Got to mention here that thanks to Aparna’s brother-in-law,we were introduced to two wonderful gentlemen living in the city that were fantastic hosts. Whether it was shopping, getting a tour of the weavers looms, excellent seating for the evening prayers or recommendations on where we should eat, mostly Vijay and sometimes Vinay went out of their way to be helpful. 

Our lunch place, an interesting little restaurant called Niyati Cafe, though came as a recommendation from a French gentleman who we ran into. Little did I know at the time that Niyati would become my favorite hangout and the owner, Ravi Prakash, my best buddy!

Ravi Prakash, owner/chef of Niyati Cafe with Aparna

The 42 year old weaver

Besides being the oldest living city in the world, Varanasi is also famous for it’s hand woven fabric. Which sadly is a dying business. Cheap imitations and machine made textiles have forced most weavers to move to different professions and this dying trade is now confined to small, run-down looms, which in all probability will cease to exist in another decade or two. One of the weavers I talked to mentioned that he had been doing this for the past twenty years. “How old are you?” I asked him, a little surprised. If  I were to guess his age, I would have said ’30’. He was apparently 42. Have a look at his picture. Watching these men work at dingy workshops, I couldn’t help but feel a little sad.

My most and least favorite parts of the first day were both religion related. The evening aarti or prayers, a one-hour long, grandly decorated, brightly lit, tastefully choreographed and attended by thousands was magical. Even though I was continuously clicking pictures, I still felt that I was in a trance. There was a group of tourists from Brazil sitting around me. I, being my usual friendly self had exchanged smiles and several words with them. One of the women in a heavy accent said to me, “Isn’t this the most incredible thing you’ve ever seen?”. I nodded and smiled, thinking to myself that you don’t have to belong to any religion or even be religious to appreciate a beautiful prayer service. 

My least favorite part of the day was visiting the Kashi Vishvanath Temple. The less I speak about it, the better. In fact it’s best if I don’t speak about it at all. 

By the time we ended our day it was near midnight. I hadn’t showered. Hadn’t changed my clothes since the previous morning. I seemed to be fitting in very well with my surroundings. It had been a long and tiring day. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to sleep right away as my mind was still hyperactive from the constant stimulation. I went online and found out that the sun was expected to rise at 6 am. 

“I’ll see you in the lobby at 5:45 am”, I said to Aparna, checking the soles of my shoes for poop.

To be continued ....