My Kasi Yatra

Banaras. Varanasi. Kasi.

Apart from the names of the leading Prime Ministerial candidates, this city is one of the main buzzwords of the Lok Sabha Elections 2014. Chalo Varanasi. It's almost a movement. It's like the epicenter of these elections. 

My own association with the city spans only a weekend long trip. And all this talk about one of the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world with a rich heritage and diverse culture has only brought back memories of that trip taken in November 2010. And so, like practically every other person, let me talk about chalo-ing to Varanasi, but this chalo-ing belongs to the past.

My maternal grandmother (paati) had come to stay with us for about a month before the winters got going in Delhi. She wanted to visit Kasi, Haridwar and Rishikesh. Since one of her daughters (my mother), lived in the north, it made sense to stay here and have the daughter take her to those places where the holy albeit polluted water of the Ganges flows. 

We decided to make it a family trip, in a way. My parents and I had rarely taken a trip together to a place where we didn't know anyone. When I was younger, trips involved my mother, my brother and me - and usually the destination was a city where we had family (almost inevitably, Madras nalla Madras). My father almost never accompanied us on trips. Or maybe it was something that changed after I was born - photos exist to prove trips that included my father with his wife, the first born (Bhaiya) and other relatives. There is also enough evidence to prove that there was once a trip taken to the snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas - a proper family trip (Ma, Appa, Bhaiya and me) which included our driver uncle, Tarlok. But I was an almost two year-old blob at the time, perhaps undifferentiated from the snow in those photos. 

However, for the most part, I believed that fathers did not or could not take trips with their families. I thought there was a rule. I would find it most odd to hear from friends that their father was accompanying them on family vacations. It was only later that I realised that it was my unique father who was workaholic enough to want to "win" us the bread - the "eating" could be done by us. There was an almost Goa trip. Obviously, we were visiting family there. My father kindly backed out last minute when we didn't have enough confirmed tickets on the train. This story is however, for a different post.

We were to leave the morning after Diwali in November 2010. The reason behind the timing was the Kasi Vishwanath and Ma Annapurna Temple. It was auspicious to visit the day after Diwali celebrations were over to see something. Quite honestly, after the sort of experience we had that evening, I'll forgive myself for blurring out a lot of details of that trip.

One of the things I didn't blur out, was the airport. Growing up, I thought the Chandigarh airport was the smallest airport there could possibly be. Varanasi changed that opinion. The arrival lounge literally ended before it began. The departure area had shops selling Lay's Chips at MRP and not an over-inflated price. Anyway, all of that only added to it's charm. Appa and I landed on an earlier flight than my Ma and Paati. We spent over an hour chilling in the  parking lot of the airport; and for someone who disliked tea, I had about 3 cups of tea. But it wasn't just any tea or the tea one had as a result of boredom. It was kulhad chai. The kulhad adds to the taste and maybe the water of the Ganga really had some power to it - but that is the best tea I have ever had in my life. And that's the filter coffee addict talking.

Anyway, I remember visiting the BHU campus late that afternoon. I don't think we saw much else apart from the impressive campus. The plan was to get to the Temple in the evening and then make it out for the famous and spectacular evening aarti on Dashashwamedh Ghaat. 

So, for those of you who haven't been to the Kasi Viswanath Temple, here's the DL on it. From the main road, you have to enter one of many several obscure and tiny lanes. The lane is wide enough for probably two of me to stand. It was as dirty as most of our Indian lanes are - felt right at home. But it is a vibrant gully; lined on both sides with shops that sold religious paraphernalia, even saaris and then there were shops that offered visitors that facility to storing their belongings in a locker. For security reasons, you're allowed to take almost nothing inside. An easier rule to follow would be to understand it as nothing but money can be taken inside. Which means our beloved phones - smart and unsmart - don't stand a chance to go in. 

That evening, we deposited all our stuff - which was mainly our cellphones - in one of these lockers at one of the many shops. The trick was to remember which shop. The line was super long. We had been warned that we would have to wait about 2-3 hours before we managed to enter the temple. Well, the journey matters, not the destination. In my story, the destination showed up for like 2 seconds and I had an extended journey. This will be clear soon.

While standing in the queue, we were occasionally entertained by the animal kingdom. A couple of monkeys above your head. Some cows running past you. Which was quite awkward and tough, to be honest. Lets just say, all of us had to paste ourselves against the pan-stained walls when a cow tried to run past. But hum angrez thodi na hai, yeh sab Indianess ka part hai. All chill.

We began talking to the family in front of us. A Bengali family - father, mother, two adorable little girls and their grandmother. We had about two hours to kill anyway, conversations only helped pass the time. Debashish Uncle and his family are to date, in touch with us and they are among the most helpful people we know. 

After about 2 and a half hours (or was it more? It could have been 3 hours), we saw the destination. As we moved ahead, all I could think of was that this was about to get over. I still don't know what I feel about god or religion. But I do know I would rather go to a small, relatively isolated temple than one which was this crowded or famous. In fact, when Archita and I had visited the temple at Shirdi about 2 years before Kasi, we had sworn off religious pilgrimages for our future children. Photos  and a lot of faith in the unseen would have to suffice. 

My entire family was in front of me. The long queue bifurcated into two - one for males and the other for females. There were guards who checked much more thoroughly than those at our Metro stations in Delhi (which is a little worrying). All I was armed with was an almost-18-year-old's-attitude-of-lets-get-this-over-with and a tiny pouch with a long strap that had some cash ... and a set of Sony Erikson earphones which I had forgotten to remove and place in the locker before hand.

The guard caught that and told me it was not allowed. While it didn't strike me why or how I could use it to be a potential security threat, I was willing to let go of it. 

Guard Lady: Yeh kya hai? (What be this?)

Me: Ear phone hai, gaane sunne waala. Galti se reh gaya. (WHERE DID THESE COME FROM SHIT. Sorry, earphones got left in the bag)

Guard Lady: Nahi nahi nahi, yeh nahi aa sakta. Aap issey rakh kar aao. (Oh no you didnt! Go back, deposit)

Me: Please, main yahin faink deti hoon but bhagwaan k liye mujhe waapas matt bhejo. (Plis! I will become slave. I can let go of this. I cannot wait another 2-3 hours)

Guard Lady: Not allowed maidum. No no. Waapas jao. (How about no?)

By which point, my family and the Banerjees seemed to have disappeared into the beyond. I stood around, wondering what to do. Some police people asked me why I was hanging around there and to go get in line. I asked them if there were multiple exits from the temple. They said that there were, but that night one exit was open. Like a badass, treading the Banarasi Gulley alone this time, I decided to chill near one of the exits, the only one supposedly open. I found a shop that sold coke, etc. And since I was super thirsty and had time to kill, I decided to have some and just observe those in the queue. After that, I decided to walk around a bit, like take a few steps closer to the exit. After some almost 30 minutes or so of being away from my family, I suddenly heard my father's voice calling out my name. I found him and I don't believe I've seen so much relief on a person's face within seconds. He held my hand strongly and we started walking towards the temple, during which time, I narrated my story of what I had been upto in the past half hour. My father said that Ma and him had apparently even announced in Tamil on the police loudspeakers. I hadn't heard anything. 

Apparently, when they had gone inside and realized I wasn't among them, Ma, Appa and Debashish Uncle decided to get out, leaving my paati in the care of Aunty. They tried to looking around. They then asked the police for help. And one word that struck my mom with fear was 'apharan'. The police lady asked if that's what my mom was scared about in these gullies because well, it was quite possible. They tried using the loudspeakers - to no avail. Anyway, my father found me and so it turned out okay.

We proceeded to go inside the temple, allowed to cut the line considering all that had happened. But we decided to take my paati and leave to come back the following morning. It was very very sweet and kind of Debashish uncle to come out and help my parents and me, when he had known us for not more than a couple of hours and had two little girls and wife to take care of in that crowd, anyway. And aunty for patiently taking care of my grandmother, her kids and her mother (-in-law?) amidst that intense atmosphere at the temple. 

The most wonderful part was how unperturbed the whole incident left me. At one level, it's nice that I kept my calm and probably, faith in humanity. But that was possibly the scariest incident for my parents with regard to either of their children. I mean, we as Indians have joked about getting lost in the Kumbh Mela but a possible 'apharan' in the gullies of Varanasi had not been part of their imagination. My memory of me getting "lost", however, is still one of adventure. 

We ended up deferring a darshan till the next morning and instead headed towards the comfort of that one magical thing, when even your mother and her mother need comfort - food. I don't quite remember the name of the bhojanayala or whatever place we had amazing thalis at - like I said a lot of that trip is blurry - but it was quite close by. We had missed the magnificent evening aarti. Perhaps on my next trip ... :)

The next morning, we went for a darshan at the temple, when it was relatively empty, at least it seemed less intense than the previous evening. Like most temples which are big on the pilgrimage map, unfortunately, you don't get more than a second to see the idols or what the fuss is about. I won't deny, there was a certain power in that place. 

After this, we decided to check something off my paati's bucket list - a dip in the Ganga. Approaching the Ghat, the feeling was one of taking in the smells and sounds of a place before actually seeing it. And sometimes, I believe, that is the best way to experience in stages, a place. I don't know how to explain it but you feel like that this city has been vibrant and living and thriving, always. It's intense, overwhelming, colourful. And then you sit on a boat, with Shiva the boatman and you cross over. And in that, you experience all the calmness there is. Kind of anti-climactic to the previous evening's happenings. It was beautiful.

We did go to the Sankara Acharya's madam there. We took a short trip to Sarnath, which is quite close by. In the evening, we headed back to the airport, where before entering the building, I had one last kulhad chai.

So, this post was not about politics or elections 2014. This post was a less than awful travel guide - given the blurry details. Its about the things that happened when my father decided to come on a trip with us :) Just kidding!

One thing we've learnt from the post is that there are cities other than Delhi that occupy my parents imagination as being unsafe for their daughter. Travel advisories have been issued by them. But I would love to go again and explore. Maybe give the temple a miss.