It is the first break of the day, warblers chirping in the trees, the initial rays of the Sun reflecting over the waters of the Ganga, and like every other day, the holy city has begun rising up to brace the world with its unparalled religiousness and faith.

But this day is not like every other usual day. This day is filled with empty, half-demolished houses in the areas around the eminent Kashi Vishwanath temple; this morning includes people waking up with the realisation that it may be their last morning in their ancestral homes. This bleak fate of the city has followed the ambitious 600-crore kashi vishwanath corridor project which involves the beautification and extension of the Kashi Vishwanath Temple, such that the temple can have a direct access through a beautiful green corridor instead of through the old narrow lanes surrounded by dilapidated buildings. The  involves removing more than a hundred houses in the way of the expansion sites which house approximately forty small heritage temples.

While the settlements with the locals have mostly been reported to be amicable, the problems of rehabilitation and proper refurbishment largely stand unattended. Additionally, in the wake of this bigger and brighter picture, no one has addressed the pain and loss that the people living around the area are facing. The silver screen in front of our eyes with the dream of the ‘greater good’ will turn to dust if we go and take a walk around the area. Not three months ago, the famous narrow lanes of Banaras would have greeted you with beautifully adorned houses and bright colourful walls, happy faces of children playing around, and elders sitting outside their houses narrating mythical stories. Today if you go there, you will be greeted with dust, fallen bricks in your way, and the sounds of hammers working their way to break the ancestry that once defined the true essence of the city along the banks of the Ganga.

The lanes would also greet you with the sombre faces of the inhabitants, standing along helpless even with the money that they have been promised. However, one bitter truth which comes with this slowly disappearing past like a whiff of smoke is the fact that our community lacks unity. A local shopkeeper, Anil Singh said that even when they will need to rehabilitate sooner or later, they are being paid good amounts by the government and that he is happy to see the development happening around. In his words, “we are facing some problems, our business will suffer a backlash, but Varanasi is towards the path of development.”

On the other hand, Gopalnath Mishra, almost 70 years old, regrets the decision of the government and said that his house is more than one hundred and fifty years old, and has a small heritage temple, to which his family has looked after since generations. He also said that the lack of proper documents for his home would not entitle him to get enough money so that he can relocate with his family without any qualms. Basant Jha, a fresh post-graduate from Kashi Vidyapeeth, lives as a tenant in the area and even when he has safely relocated his family, he and his friends regularly visit the area every morning and stay there the whole day, watching the houses they once played around in their childhood turn to dust.

Along the way these days, you would stumble upon well-crafted doors, behind which all you can find would be dust and broken walls, callously thrown water bottle of a child, ripped pieces of a saree, a dust-laden torn sheet showing half a drawing of a home. But the green coloured door with brown border and the knocked down handle would still be standing there, grandiose, greeting you like a fallen warrior. This silent tussle between development and ancestry is not just a sad narrative of pain and loss, but also a resounding tale of the wiping away of the essence and true definition of a city, which now the holy city of Varanasi is witnessing.

All picture stories clicked by Piyush Singh, cover picture by Ayush Sahani, covered by Puspangana.

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Call me Kashi, Call me Banares;
Don’t just share as a poem or a story;
Come and know me, and carry me along.
Because
I AM YOU, the existence of life.

Imagine a destination that has chosen to invite you on a visit; a destination which you have been long planning for. As a girl from the North East, I used to visualize traveling to all other geographical zones of the country besides hill stations during my school-days. Consequently, the chapter of Kashi started in early 2011 as my teenage wish, and eventually, it occurred in the year 2018. That’s when I jaunted through Kashi, popularly known as Varanasi.

Tell me, what’s your favorite about Kashi? Many would give a variety of answers to it which I will not deny any. As of mine, it is the feeling of being in Varanasi, roaming in the Galis (narrow streets) in the middle of its crowd.

With no intention of attaching too much of philosophy within, my personal advice is that don’t ever miss out any of the opportunities to explore these hidden streets. They shelter a number of Sadhus whose sole purpose is to achieve Moksha in this worldly life.

Although Varanasi stands gorgeously by the bank of the Ganges, it feels lifeless without these streets. Whether you are inclined towards mouth-watering street foods or for window shopping, they are always ready with a bundle of surprises. By the warmth of sunrise, Banaras is an emotive one senses after the attainment of the pleasure of every hue of the city, and that can be sipping a chilled fruity Lassi during summer or finding a traditional mandala wall hanger or any other.

Apart from the temples, Simplicity is another highlight of Kashi, and the Ghats contribute unconditionally to this fact. You would be amazed to see a variety of people coming to these Ghats with different purposes and yet sharing the same divine connection. Some would pray, meditate, arrange a pyre; others would perform their chores for a livelihood. Each Ghat speaks of stories about countless travelers along with its noted history.

While wandering on all these thoughts near Nandeshwar Ghat, a group of local children playfully rushed to me. I played with them for a while, took photographs and left, as it was my last day in the city. No matter how much I explain, an emotion of being in any place is better felt only by the traveler himself or herself. So, discover how a city like this can inspire you in its limitless way. Therefore, schedule your voyage and start sailing towards Kashi, and therefore, explore within.

And dear Kashi,
Certainly, I felt your existence.
I never forced, but you just made it happen.
And that defines a blissful connection of a traveler to her love.

Follow her on Instagram for more amazing stories: @the.idyllic.musafir

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If you asked the tourist or the pilgrim to tell you about Varanasi, they will give you a geographical answer. Country, State, proximity, accessibility, facilities, attractions, will be listed with veracity and great enthusiasm. But ask an explorer or a seeker, the response will be assuredly more than what you bargained for- only if you try to measure the immeasurable.

Varanasi is less of a dot on an atlas and more of a milestone marked out on mind maps crossing borders and continents.

To try and depict her using the paltry stock of words one knows is a task. That is why I shall resort to describing her with metaphors, symbols and her possessions, for she is one giant melting cauldron of varied ingredients still bubbling over.

Varanasi is a story

The ancient city with its ringing temple bells and ghats resonating with the sounds of water and fervently whispered prayers for wish fulfilment, is a story that unfolds to the heart and soul that is tuned in to listen. She is the story of a God who is benevolent , compassionate, simple and yet terrifying in His righteous rage. She is the story of a mighty River which flows from the locks of that God, and is now a young woman in all her voluptuous glory, spanning the banks on which mortals throng to worship her every single day.

She is also the story of these mortals on the banks. The hermit, the recluse, the doms at the crematorium, the bangle sellers, the sellers of flowers and lamps offered in worship, of believers who seek peace and happiness. She is their story too.

The other River of Varanasi

If you have taken the boat ride down the river in Varanasi, you will spot another river. A relentless river that defies gravity and flows into the vast spaces above the spires of temples, mosques and havelis. The river of smoke from the burning pyres of Manikarnika and Harishchandra Ghats. People often choose to Varanasi as their place to spend their last days on earth, before passing into the realm they hope to be residents of. One can be led into a deep sombre melancholy by this all pervasive feeling of death lingering in the air. One is never more conscious of mortality than here because the crematorium is right in the hub of human activity. But the contrast is never more visible elsewhere. Right through this river of smoke, fed by tributaries of mortal remains that are consigned to the flames, one hears the hubbub of daily life. All the sounds of life and living, melt into this grey gloomy river and soar up to the blue skies that overlook the other River.

The moment is like a phoenix- it rises from the ashes of the has been to the now and beyond. This is also Varanasi.

Capillary City

The maze of life is a metaphor writers have explored in various ways, and ironically the famous ‘gullies’ or narrow lanes and bylanes of this City hold up the metaphor to be true. Capillary thin lanes, that branch off into thinner by-lanes are the veins of this heart called Varanasi, bringing and taking back life blood , and crisscrossing her terrain. These cobbled lanes, are a magical realm in themselves and one can spend an entire day losing one’s way in them, and chancing upon some amazing discoveries like the ornamental doors to houses or a beautiful shrine tucked away in some corner.

Varanasi lies in her lanes

There is a bird atop a flag, fluttering in the mild gust of the Ganga. A little bird, who has paused mid-flight to rest atop that simple flag. They are both creatures of the wind. They both soar and fly with its aid and know its value. For me this is the most powerful symbol for Varanasi. She is the wind, the flag is the world as we know it, and the little bird is our soul. The world, for all its materialism knows the value of this City while the soul rests awhile here in peaceful bliss too.

I shall not invite you to visit Varanasi. It is a calling that will come to you at a time in your life, when you will be destined to hear it. All I can say is hear that call and heed it. And watch your life change.

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