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Kashi 3.0

Memory is unpredictable . One never really knows what we will remember and what we will forget. Which is why nostalgia arrives in unpredictable waves, highlighting something and skimming over others. Recently, I have found myself thinking of how memory works, as I was assailed by nostalgia over a trip to Varanasi, a city I prefer to think of, as Kashi. The nostalgia hit right as we landed at Varanasi airport. The last time I was here, it was 1988, I was 13 years old, the airport was brand new… regular flights hadn’t started yet (I think) … flights landed about once a week, and for the rest of the time, everything was open to those of us who lived in the airport quarters nearby. There were fields everywhere, vast expanses of green… I have vague memories of corn and sugarcane… and being overwhelmed by the vastness of the fields (this was the first time I was in such close proximity to them), and the warm hospitality of complete strangers who lived and worked amidst these fields. I h...
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A Boat Ride down the Ganges

Row, row, row the boat
Gently down the stream,
Merrily, Merrily, Merrily,
Life is but a dream……….




This is one of my son’s favourite rhymes, and it describes exactly our experience during a boat ride on the Ganges.


Samhith with our boatman Raju

We spent 10 days in Varanasi, and not a day passed without us taking a boat ride. My husband Shankar made friends with a young boatman named Raju, not yet out of his teens, and we found him waiting for us, ready to take us to the other bank for a bath, or a long, leisurely boat ride down the river. It was he who took us for a tour along all the Ghats, a trip to the Ramnagar Palace, and also to the temples via the Ghats. It was a wonderful experience, one I shall never forget. Read the full post...
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