Every year, June takes me back to my childhood. It reminds me of freshly covered school books, the smell of rain hitting the ground, and the excitement of starting a new academic year after the long summer holidays. There was always something magical about this month, as if life itself was turning a fresh page.
Last year, however, my June looked a little different. While children around me were preparing to return to school with mixed emotions, I was sitting at the airport waiting for my flight to Banaras. It had been on my travel wishlist for so long that I honestly can’t remember when the fascination first began. Maybe it was the countless stories I had heard from people who had visited, or perhaps it was the endless reels of the Ganga Aarti that somehow made me stop scrolling every single time.
Banaras always seemed more than just a city; it felt like an emotion wrapped in history, faith, and countless untold stories. As my flight took off, I realized I wasn’t simply travelling to another destination—I was about to meet a place that had quietly lived in my imagination for years.
The First Glimpse of Kashi
Every city has its own way of welcoming you, and Banaras does it with beautiful chaos. The moment I arrived, I was greeted by narrow lanes buzzing with scooters and cycle rickshaws, while cows stood calmly amidst the rush as if time moved differently here. The air was filled with the aroma of incense, fresh flowers, hot kachoris, and steaming chai, while temple bells mingled with honks and devotional songs. The old buildings and weathered walls seemed to carry centuries of stories. Nothing about Banaras felt polished, yet everything about it felt real. It wasn’t a city trying to impress—it simply existed in its timeless rhythm, and within moments, I knew it was a place that had to be experienced, not just seen.
Getting Lost in the Lanes
The soul of Banaras lives in its narrow, winding gullies. Every turn reveals something unexpected—a tiny flower shop, an ancient hidden temple, or a bustling chai stall where conversations flow as freely as the tea. I soon stopped following maps because the real magic was in wandering aimlessly. Old signboards, colourful walls, hidden shrines, and local sweet shops turned every walk into an adventure. In Banaras, getting lost never feels inconvenient; somehow, it feels like exactly where you’re meant to be.
Temple Hopping Through the City of Shiva
Banaras truly lives up to its title as the city of Lord Shiva. Every lane seems to lead to another temple, each carrying its own history and charm. Visiting the Kashi Vishwanath Temple was undoubtedly the highlight, with the chants of “Har Har Mahadev” creating an atmosphere unlike anywhere else. Beyond the famous shrine, I found countless small temples tucked away in quiet corners of the city. Some were centuries old, while others were simple neighbourhood sanctuaries, but each felt equally special. By the end of the day, temple hopping no longer felt like sightseeing—it felt like becoming a small part of Kashi itself.
Sunrise at the Ghats
One morning, I woke up before dawn to see Banaras at its most peaceful. As the first rays of sunlight touched the Ganga, boats drifted silently across the water and pilgrims gathered for their morning prayers. The gentle sound of temple bells and birdsong created an atmosphere that words can hardly capture. Sitting on the steps of the ghat, watching the city slowly wake up, I realized that sometimes the best way to experience Banaras is simply to pause and observe.
An Evening at Dashashwamedh Ghat
If the mornings belong to peace, the evenings belong to devotion. I reached Dashashwamedh Ghat before sunset to witness the famous Ganga Aarti. As darkness settled, priests performed the rituals with giant lamps moving in perfect rhythm, while chants, conch shells, and the fragrance of incense filled the air. Hundreds of diyas floated across the river, turning the Ganga into a river of light. It was one of those rare moments that no photograph or video could ever truly capture.
A Walk to Manikarnika Ghat
My journey through Banaras eventually brought me to Manikarnika Ghat, a place I had heard about countless times. Watching the eternal flame and the age-old rituals unfold was a deeply humbling experience. Here, life and death exist side by side, accepted as part of the same journey. Standing there didn’t feel sorrowful—it felt peaceful, almost philosophical. In many ways, Manikarnika teaches you what Banaras itself quietly whispers: acceptance.
The Flavours of Banaras
No trip to Banaras is complete without indulging in its food. Mornings began with crispy kachoris and spicy sabzi, followed by fresh jalebis straight from the pan. The famous tamatar chaat was unlike anything I had tasted before, while thick kulhad lassi quickly became a favourite. Every chai stall had its own charm, often serving conversations as memorable as the tea itself. Through its food, Banaras offered another beautiful way to understand its culture.
Taking a Little Kashi Home
The markets of Banaras are just as captivating as its ghats and temples. Shops overflow with Banarasi silk sarees, brass idols, rudraksha malas, and handcrafted souvenirs. Watching artisans weave intricate silk patterns made me appreciate the city’s rich heritage even more. I wandered through the bustling lanes, bargained a little, laughed a lot, and somehow returned with more bags than I had planned. Every purchase felt less like a souvenir and more like a memory wrapped in tradition.
When it was finally time to leave, I realized I wasn’t just returning from a trip—I was carrying a piece of Kashi with me. It stayed in the quiet sunrise over the Ganga, the chants of the evening Aarti, the hidden temples, the bustling lanes, and the countless cups of chai shared with strangers. Some cities impress you with their beauty, but Banaras leaves you with perspective. Even today, my mind often drifts back to those ancient ghats and timeless streets. Somewhere between the river, the temples, and the old lanes, a small part of me never really left Kashi.
Happy Sundaying!
Travellogs 