I was told it was crowded, dusty, thronging with dishonest pushy people, gimmick-ridden, noisy, overcrowded, exotic, enchanting, romantic and even morbid. For one, this could describe any location in India. Secondly, most of it is true for Varanasi, but not a thing got in the way of it being musical, spiritual, educational, and restful. For all the more popular destinations of our country, and these grow in number with the buying power of the middle class Indian rising steadily, there is a thriving tourism industry. It caters to every possible need.

Hundreds of Indian and foreign tourists visit Kashi each day to offer their prayers to Vishwanath, or via it to offer their prayers to the Buddha who preached in Sarnath in 530BC, only an hour’s drive away. Just as many travel with their loved ones, one last time in the hope of drowning away their sins to gain them ‘moksha’. Religion and death together spares no one, and so the full range of the economic spectrum finds its way to Varanasi.

The range of services that the city, its people and its industries makes available is obvious from the way that it is very possible never to meet any other tourist who has the same objective, but different means from your own, while you are there. In short, use the resources available to you to weed out experiences that you don’t want to have, schedule in those you know of that you would like to have, and keep your mind and soul wide open to whatever you encounter or captures your imagination while you are there.

One morning began with sweet ginger tea served at the crack of dawn followed by an affable tourist guide walking me in silence to the Assi Ghat for a boat ride along the river. The silence was broken for the first time as the boat slid through the fog on the serene river, by the sonorous thumri that the boatman sang. I was as surprised as I was overwhelmed with gratitude. The beauty was in the way the people on the boats we passed along seemed to sway with the music as though perfect sur gliding by was simply normal. Take this long route to the Golden Kashi Vishwanath Temple. Let the boatman dock at the burning ghats and weave your way through the network of gallis, by mangled peepul tree trunks, skirting Kali in every niche in the crumbling walls that closes in about you. Let the efficiency borne of commerce blended with unchallenged ritualistic power allow the professional panda to steer you through your darshan of the indomitable Shiva, leaving you feeling awestruck, blessed and spent in record time

My Banarasi friend quickly convinced me to abandon the protective isolation of a taxi, to ride pillion on his massive noisy Enfield to take me through winding streets to his favourite halwai. I cannot say what was more thrilling - the fact that we barely missed killing several people en route only because his booming abuse made them jerk away in the nick of time or combination of mirchi pakoda, bilious green jalebi accompanied with lassi malai marke. The evening ended on a boat overlooking the orchestrated aarti on the Dasaswamedh Ghat, and listening to the mythology of the Ganga. One more day ended with a visit to a Durga temple or the Monkey Temple that was built in the 1700s by a princess from Kuch Bihar (now Bengal), just when the sandhya aarti began. The clamour of bells, the thudding of the damru, the gentle eyes of fire that the pujaari danced with in front of the limpid golden eyes of the pratima was overwhelming.

If your eyes seek beauty, you will find it in every breath you take in Benares. It is in the warmth of the two old, old ladies who asked my companion for a cup of tea and then immediately invited him for a cup because he gave them more than they absolutely needed. It is in the tales of miracles told with such profound conviction that the heavens seem to come alive. It is in the song of the oars in the water, the strength of the current that is never forgotten under the placid calm that keeps a deep bobbing along like a child who has never known fear. It is in the folded edges of the bhojpuri accent and equally in the astounding amount of gaalis that playfully punctuate it. It is in the half closed eyes of the most beautiful statue of the Buddha sakhyamuni and the uncanny feeling that he may be looking right back at you.

Just like so many corners of India, ‘the city of light’ is well worth the visit. Be sure that you allow yourself the time and luxury of allowing its surprises catch up with you


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