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 have vivid memories of walking (and running) on the runway, and visiting the control tower where my uncle worked. Stepping out of the flight this time, nostalgia struck, and struck big, and the first thing I did was click pictures and send my uncle. For a minute I was that small girl again, seeing an airport for the first time, and I wished I could walk on the runway, as I had, all those decades ago.

The city brought a different kind of nostalgia. I had visited Kashi again in 2008, and we had then stayed in the heart of the old city, very near the ghats. I was then 33, and had a 5-year-old son in tow. We were visiting mainly for performing rituals for our ancestors, and stayed for 10 days in the ancient city. While most of our time was taken up by the rituals, we found ample time to visit temples hidden in the by lanes, as well quite a few other places around the city. This was in the early days of my blogging journey, and I have extensively detailed posts of the trip on theblog… I even separated out the posts into a separate blog, named Kashi Yatra. Memories of that trip are still vivid, especially the boat rides on the Ganga and sitting down in the sanctum for the Saptarishi Aarti, which was an experience I shall always treasure.

Fast forward now to 2025. I turned 50 this year, and unexpectedly, despite health issues, have been able to travel quite a bit, including a trip to Kashi in August. There was no plan of visiting Kashi as such, but then Shankar’s friends came up with the idea of singing bhajans at Kashi and Ayodhya. Now, anyone who has read my blog knows that I am not very enthusiastic about Ayodhya, but the thought of singing bhajans at Kashi caught hold of my imagination. Besides, my mother has been pining to visit Ayodhya, and there would be no better time to take her there, or a better group to go along with. However, as usual, I wanted to do more…. There were things I had missed during my two earlier trips that I wanted to cover, and she also wanted to visit the Triveni Sangam at Prayag. So, I landed at Kashi a week earlier than the group, with a list of places I wanted to go to… things I wanted to see.

The Kashi I saw this time was a very different version of the city I had seen twice before. The city was racked by heavy rains, and the Ganga was completely flooded. We, thankfully arrived just as the rains lessened and the levels of the Ganga began to abate. Despite that, we found ourselves unable to visit the river on the first few days, since the water levels were dangerously high. From where we stood, the Ganga was in full flow… she rushed along, her roar sounding clearly above the commotion of the city around us. She covered the ghats entirely, and on our first couple of days, even the top steps weren’t visible. There was, in essence, no sign of the ghats… there was the river, and the city on its banks… nothing more. Gone were the long rows of steps I remembered walking on, gone was the sight of boats on the water. All the boats were lined up near the ghats, tied securely to any available structure. Boating had been stopped due to the floods, and I realized that this would be a very different trip… the only one where I wouldn’t set foot in the water at all.

The city itself was very different from what I remembered…. The main roads are now wider, there are areas where vehicles are restricted, and of course, the temple complex is now huge and well maintained. One of the first structures that caught my attention was a huge 2-wheeler parking structure, right at the crossroad from where we had to walk to our homestay. Over the next week, as we passed the structure over and over again, I felt that it somehow represented the changing nature of the city… one where 2-wheelers are the only mode of transport which can access every lane, every corner of the city…. 2-wheelers, and of course, our own 2 feet.

The temple of Kashi Vishwanath is where the most glaring changes can be seen. Back in 1988, we waded through cow dung lined streets, and walked through the side door of the masjid to access the temple through one of its many entrances. In 2008, the lanes were almost the same – winding and confusing – but the temple entrance we used this time was more prominent and identifiable. Now, in 2025, there is only one main road which leads to the temple, no matter where in Kashi you are. The wide road is unmistakable, as is the entrance of the vast temple complex. The masjid has been cordoned off, with strict instructions of “NO PHOTOGRAPHY” posters all over; there are still multiple entrances, but now they define (in a way) your status as a devotee, with separate entrance for VIP pass holders, special darshan ticket holders, and of course the general public, willing to wait in a queue for hours and hours. I had heard from many people the number of temples revealed within the complex, during the clearing process. However, rather to my surprise, they failed to hold my interest. I was much more fascinated by the fact that one could, at last, walk to the river from the temple. However, thanks to the heavy rains and the dangerously high levels of water, we weren’t allowed to actually set foot anywhere near the river from the temple. We had to settle with viewing the Ganga from a distance as she flowed with a violence I have never seen before, her roar audible over the crowds at the temple.

What I found most interesting (and disturbing), were the number of ancient temples within the immediate vicinity of the temple, which were left outside the tall walls of the new complex, topped by barbed wire. For example, the Dhundi Ganapati temple (which we went looking for, since a visit to Kashi is supposed to begin with his darshan), turned out to be right next to the outermost wall of the complex, so close that it almost appears that the image of the Lord is placed on the wall itself. Similarly, the ancient temples to Goddesses Annapurna and Visalakshi, the two most important temples after that of Lord Vishwanath, are located very close to the main temple, their spires visible from the temple complex. Yet, thanks to the new complex, one has to walk through confusing lanes around the complex to reach each temple.  These are just some examples. I am sure there are many more which could have been integrated into the new complex as well, had the intention been there.

Thanks to our extended trip, we were able to visit the temples multiple times, and spend time at leisure just sitting around and enjoying the ambience, talking about our memories of the city. We also managed to make some new memories. I managed to visit the Sarnath and Allahabad Museums (which, for some inexplicable reason, I had missed on earlier visits), and spent a few happy hours amongst the sculptures. We visited a couple of temples I had came to know about only a few years back – the Tilabandeshwar temple and the Kardameshwar temple (built in the 12^th century, and the oldest standing temple structure in Kashi), both of which were absolutely superb. More about them some other time…. We also made a trip to Vindhyachal, home to 3 ancient goddesses – Vindhyavasini, Ashtabhuja Devi, and Kali Koh; and my mother got her wish of having a dip in the Triveni Sangam.

However, the most enduring experience of this trip, which I like to think of as Kashi 3.0, is the experience of sitting within the compound, as our friends sang soulful bhajans to the Lord. We were originally supposed to sing in one of the many AC halls built inside the temple complex for events, but due to some mix up, we were asked to sit in the second corridor of the temple complex. This, to us, was a blessing. We were able to sit in a place from where we could not see the Lord Himself, but his temple spire with His trishul above it were clearly visible. Devotees walking in and out of the temple joined us, and some even began to dance. It was almost as if the Lord wanted us there, closer to Him, singing in His presence. Nothing can beat that feeling.

I am not, and never have been, a good singer. However, the highlight of bhajans is that one can follow the lead singers, without any musical talent whatsoever. Thanks to our talented group of singers, I was able to experience the bliss of singing bhajans with them, in close proximity to the Lord once again. It brought back memories of Pandharpur and Vaishnodevi, where I had the same experience with the same group. It just highlights the fact that the name and form are immaterial. It is the feeling, the devotion within ourselves, that brings out the experience of divinity. This experience is only highlighted in sacred sites like these.

P.S. I began this post the week I returned from Kashi, my memories fresh, eager to break free and translate into words. Most of this post was written back then. However, circumstances intervened, I fell sick, and was unable to get back to it. It has been 3 months since I returned, and when I got back to this post, I realized that there is a sense of nostalgia about the trip already, especially considering the fact that I have been told to curtail my travels for now. I am going to be indulging in a lot more nostalgia about this trip, as well as other trips from the past, for quite some time, so the theme of memory and nostalgia seems rather appropriate as I look back at this post.

P.P.S. Some of you might wonder why there is no mention of Ayodhya after I mentioned that the trip included both cities. As it turned out, some last-minute events made me rush back to Mumbai from Kashi, so only my mother and Shankar made it to Ayodhya, but that’s their story to tell, not mine.