Varanasi: A Whole New India

Landing in Varanasi was a breath of fresh air. This place is magical. The airport is located in the country a few miles out of town. It's an amazing ride from the airport to the city center. Rice patties give way to single stall shops, houses, and factories eventually turning into bustling marketplaces and then suddenly Varanasi is upon you. Traffic condenses into a hoard of rickshaws and near chaos. It's a tolerable chaos though. It feels so much more rural and humble than Delhi. It's not trying to be anything it isn't. It's authenticity shines in every dirty storefront. The facade that Delhi puts forward is completely stripped away by a place like this.

The shops and city streets are filled with rickshaws and cows. Walls in the alleyways are covered in dung patties drying for fuel. The streets are dusty and the people move at a far more leisurely pace.

We immediately made our way to the ghats (the steps leading down to the Ganges), and for the first time in India we saw the quiet sanctuary of history and nature in harmony. Aside from the few people wearing denim and drink sellers hawking cokes, if you looked in the right spots, you could be in any era in history. There is a seriousness to the ghats. It seems as if everyone understands the role they are playing and are more than happy to do it.

The river is wide, but since this is the dry season, more than three quarters of it is a dustbowl. Horses gallop along on the other side carrying farmers to their seasonal farm plots; plots that will eventually be flooded when monsoon comes. Colorful bathers dot the stone steps and impressive buildings pierce the skyline. There is very little room for modernity or pretension.


We soon found ourselves on a boat and got a quick look at the length of the city along the shore. It's incredibly impressive. There are constant cremation ceremonies happening at select spots along the river. It's sad and beautiful at the same time. Children run freely flying small paper kites and as dusk settles, the city softens. The colors dull and a cool breeze descends upon Varanasi. It's sheer magic.

We woke at five the next morning. Our host's autorickshaw driver was waiting to take us down to the river for a dawn boatride. The chill in the air brought out the smell of smoldering fires as we rolled through the streets. At the river, we found a boat and hoped in. In a city of more than two million, it was silent except for the pulse of distant drums and calls to prayer. Occasional city lights dotted the bank of the river. As the sun rose, more boats joined us on the river, followed by hoards of birds and bathers that come to wash themselves every morning in the cool and filthy water. It's one of the most sacredly profane places I have ever been, and I found myself profoundly aware that I was grateful that I had the opportunity to be a part of it and terrified that the next two days would pass by too quickly.