Varanasi – Captivating Chaos
“Varanasi is older than history, older than tradition, even older than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together.”
—Mark Twain
Planning an itinerary for India is daunting. The country is vast—more like a continent than a nation—where each state could be its own country, with its own food, customs, and identity. The options are overwhelming, and narrowing down where to go felt impossible.
But the moment I read about Varanasi, I knew.
For me, travel isn’t about chasing luxury or glamour, although who are we kidding? Of course I do appreciate it! It’s about immersing myself in the raw, the real—the places where culture is authentic, where life unfolds unfiltered. And Varanasi, the sacred city on the banks of the Ganges, promised just that.
Varanasi is to Hindus what Mecca is to Muslims. The locals claim it to be the oldest living city in the world. A bit of fact checking denounced this claim, but it certainly is in the conversation as one of the world's oldest communities. Regardless, its history is ancient, its spiritual significance undeniable. Pilgrims come seeking enlightenment, hoping to break free from the cycle of reincarnation. Here, the faithful bathe in the Ganges at dawn, light floating candles as prayer offerings to the river, and cremate their loved ones along its banks, scattering their ashes into the sacred waters.
It is mesmerizing. I didn’t understand everything I witnessed, and I can attest I didn't agree with much. I absolutely loved it yet didn't like it --- if that is possible to even make sense.
Each morning, just before sunrise, the ritual of Subah-e-Banaras unfolds at Assi Ghat. This aarti, is a spiritual gathering including Vedic chanting and soulful devotional music. It is a sight to behold and incredible to experience.
Yet, as if Varanasi weren’t intense enough on its own, my visit coincided with Mahakumbh 2025. Held every twelve years, this was the first in 144 years of its kind, a 12 squared if you will. It is one of the largest spiritual gatherings on the planet. Millions arrived in search of divine connection, some seeking moksha—ultimate liberation.
The ghats were lined with sadhus, the holy men of India, their naked bodies covered in ash. They sit for days, burning incense, some smoking hash, and offer prayers for anyone needing guidance.
It was a spectacle of faith and frenzy, a collision of devotion and disorder. Millions of people, gathering and submerging in the shallow banks of the sacred Ganges. There are hands gathered together, raised in prayer and of course snapping selfies to capture this auspicious moment. It is a display of faith one can't quite describe, and the smell of smoke, frying samosas and human excrement chokes you.
This city—this festival—was captivating chaos.
The Ganges carries it all away: sins, prayers, plastic vessels with candles and flowers. The thought of what this sacred devotion is doing to our planet haunts me.
Mahakumbh is part pilgrimage, part festival, and entirely unlike anything I will ever experience.
I’m still processing everything I saw—the poverty, the nakedness, the globe harming pollution. But beyond the extremes, what lingers most is the unshakable conviction of the people who come here. The sheer, unwavering belief in their religion and in one another is beautiful. Despite the crowds and differences in culture, I not only felt completely safe, but oddly welcomed to observe, witness, and photograph their spirituality. My curiousity in their society was matched with the same curiosity with me. I felt, at times, like a bit of an Indian sensation as people would line up to take a photo with me. This mutual curiousity supports my belief that people around the world are inherently good and want the best.
My visit to Varanasi, observing a sunrise aarti, and seeing the chaos of Mahakumbh made it one of the most unforgettable experiences of my journey to 100 countries. I may not return to India, but India will stay with me.
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