September 9, 2021 September 9, 2021 / 3 minutes of reading
By Random Editor
While being in lockdown was hard, what is harder is not being able to return to our normal lives. Though honestly, I don’t miss my rounds to the office.
But what I miss the most is travelling – picking out a destination, hotel booking, packing my bags, spending days trying to find out about the place, anticipating how good or bad the food could be (I am a vegetarian – though some might add ‘pliable’). And then there is one place that I miss travelling to the most – not my hometown, but my mother’s. A place where I spent most of my summer holidays, where sitting beside the Ganga always had the most calming effect, where anything could be possible, where you could see hoards of cows and rows of temples next to a German bakery or a Spanish cafe.
The eternal city – Banaras
The city where you can explore self – Banaras, Varanasi, Kaashi. Mark Twain said, “Benaras is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend and looks twice as old as all of them put together.” I read somewhere that the city holds no new wonder but enables one to see what already is.
Boating in the Ganges at Banaras
Where else you will witness the deathly stillness at Manikarnika Ghat – where people cremate their loved ones and the celebration of life at Dashashwamedh Ghat – where the glorious morning and evening aarti will leave you a smile ear to ear. Where else in the world will you find a city that celebrates death and welcomes the dying – a city where people seek salvation.
The evening Ganga aarti at Dashashwamedh Ghat
What I miss the most is spending time on the ghats, listening to people eagerly chatting away, musicians rehearsing, drinking the most delicious – masala lemon tea, hopping on a boat to watch the aarti, and the most scrumptious street food you could have ever had. The tamatar ki chaat, dahi golgappe, kulhad chaat and the lassi – if you are in Banaras, make sure you have each one of them each day – its food for the heart.
Tamatar ki chaat at Kashi Bhandar
I miss seeing my grandparents this year, the hustle and bustle of the city, the temples at every corner, the pan shops, the weavers who create the most beautiful Banarasi dupatta and sarees, the remarkable tranquillity that the city offers you in the middle of the turmoil.
Oh! and special mention also to the saffron-clad, ash-smeared, hardened-face sadhus – the one I used to be afraid of when I was one, and the ones that I am absolutely in awe of when I am 31.
The sadhus at Banaras ghats
But I am hopeful. Like several others who are waiting for the light at the end of this coronavirus tunnel. Hopeful to return to the city that doesn’t let you feel like an outsider yet doesn’t make you a dweller, the city eternal, the sacred city, the city older than even civilisation – the city that is a keeper of my soul.
The writer is At Random’s editor – a woman with myriad tastes – both in life and in writing.
