Valerie Goes To India: The Holy City of Varanasi

From top left: our guesthouse in view, saluting the sunrise in the Ganges, the popping
color of the ghats, women bathing, morning rituals, performing assanas in Varanasi,
the ghats alight at night, we heart Varanasi 

Varanasi is a city situated right by the mighty and holy Ganges river, the oldest continually inhabited city of the world, a city that worships Shiva, a city that celebrates and welcomes death by its riverbed. Dying and having one's ashes scattered into the river is an auspicious way to die, since it releases the self from the cycle of reincarnation.
With that in mind, I could only imagine the flurry of activity and the flock of individuals surrounding the city. As we walked through the old city of Varanasi, we could not miss how old the city was, with its claustrophobic alleys used by big fat cows as their runway, cobbled streets, an equally ancient sewage system, and dirty brick buildings. It was a hot, hot day coming into the city, and after a somewhat traumatic attempt finding our guesthouse, we arrive relieved, bereft of any more patience and energy, so Steph and I decided to stay inside its walls after having showered and emerged as normal human beings.
Steph and I remarked on how we've had such great luck with all the places we've stayed in India. Our particular guesthouse had an Indian and Mediterranean fusion, with ochre-washed walls, colorful banners, an oasis of shade and flora in the courtyard, and an uninterrupted view of the majestic Ganges river and the ghats (steps to the river) to our left and right.

The next day, we woke up early, and won against the sunrise. We caught the subtle orange glow over the river indicating its swift arrival, so we ventured to ride a boat that would take us to the ghats in the early morning light. After paying twice as much the original price, Steph and I determined that nothing could stand in the way of enjoying a breath-taking sight that morning.

Not only was the sight of the ghats and temples sublime in that light of dawn, but the activities surrounding them demanded the focus of my attention and my less-than-perfect camera. Because the Ganges river is prescribed as holy, scores of people went to bathe in its water. Men with the barest essentials and women blooming in full saris splashed about the river's edge. They all drank the water, gurgled with it, anointed themselves with blessing. Men playing flutes, performing sun salutations; it was a harmonious play of different perfomances, with the backdrop of the temples glistening in the sanctifying light of the sun. It was absolutely breath-taking, awe-inspiring, humbling.



While some areas of India might be impoverished of modern comforts and affluence, I couldn't help but almost be blinded by the vibrant and beautiful colors everywhere. In Kolkata, in Darjeeling, in Varanasi, colors had their own way of manifesting themselves against the drabness of the everywhere else: the glittering saris of women in a sea of men, the beautiful prayer flags in the fog, the colorful ghats of Varanasi standing out against gray stone. In the three places Steph and I visited, we saw the multicolored, multifaceted India that is just unlike any other place we've ever traveled.