An Eternal Flame

Kashi, Banaras Or Varanasi. No Matter What You Call This Holy City, It Will Never Cease To Amaze Artists, Tourists And The Spiritually Inclined, Discovers Sharmistha Chaudhuri

- Sharmistha Chaudhuri

The sound of the motor guiding the bajra through the water was loud. Loud enough to drown out any other sound that could compete—the laughter from the ghats, the train rushing along the tracks on the lower deck of the Malviya Bridge, or even the lapping of water against the boat. We cruised along without a care in the world. I didn’t mind. It gave me a chance to gather the thoughts whirling about in my mind.

I was introduced to the paradoxical city of Varanasi during my formative years. As my mother would read aloud Satyajit Ray’s Feluda stories to get me to sleep, it had been ‘Joi Baba Felunath’ that had caught my attention, apart from ‘Sonar Kella’, of course. Durga Puja was around the corner, and Feluda had stated that Kashi was a second home to Bengalis. The descriptions of narrow alleyways, religious men, abandoned century-old buildings, and Feluda’s shrewd outmanoeuvring of his businessman nemesis; scenes would play out vividly in my head, keeping drowsy eyes open way past bedtime.

Older than ancient, Kashi’s mysticism has always attracted visitors. American novelist Mark Twain described the city in 1897 as ‘older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together’—and he had a point. Varanasi’s history makes it a complex religio-mythological construct, requiring practised navigation skills and a keen eye to peel off each intertwined layer.