Varanasi, You Will Be My Last Teacher- I Promise

Fri, 07 Mar 2025 06:18:30 +0000

That’s me sailing on a boat on the Ganga. I was in Varanasi for a couple of days. This was a history walk and boat ride on the Ganges. Our guide, Saurav, kept telling stories as we sat, watching this ancient river flow. I’ve explored many cities in India, but Varanasi was different. As you pass through the 84 ghats by the river, it’s serene to see an almost 6,000-year-old city glide by—like time itself. That’s when death first peeks at you. Manikarnika Ghat burns ablaze; it always does. They say, “Iski mitti kabhi thandi nahi hoti”—its soil never cools. People come to die in Varanasi, to be cremated here, believing it grants Moksha. Is Moksha that easy? I wonder. I wonder how death feels when you see it so close every day. I asked my Rapido driver how death feels to him in Varanasi, where people come to die. He said, “Sabke ghar mein aayega, dar nahi lagta. Ghat mein roz laash jalti rehti hai. Meri bhi jalegi, ek din.”—It’ll come to everyone’s home; I’m not afraid. Corpses burn on the ghat every day. Mine will too, one day.