“Drink it before it gets cold,” Anjali said, passing Aditi a hot cup of tea as the train moved towards home.
“Yes!” Aditi replied.
She took a slow sip and looked out of the window. The warmth of the tea stayed in her hands while her thoughts travelled back to the moment this trip almost didn’t happen.
“I tried everything. I’m not getting any tickets,” Aditi had said, staring at her phone, slowly losing hope. It felt like this trip like many others was not meant to happen.
“Maybe we should drop the plan,” Anjali said quietly. “We’ll go there next vacation, when it’s meant to happen.”
They refreshed the booking page again and again. Then they stopped trying. It felt pointless to hope.
Almost.
Then the Tatkal window opened. Two tickets appeared on the screen before doubt could return.
A small smile crossed Aditi’s face as she sat in the train now. That excitement had kept her awake the entire night. Travelling with her childhood friend felt unreal like something she had waited for without knowing.
The next morning, they boarded the train and reached Kashi, one of the oldest cities in the world.
As they stepped out of the railway station, Aditi noticed narrow lanes, heavy traffic, loud honking, and rickshaws moving in every direction.
Is this Banaras I had heard about? she wondered.
The first impression of the city quietly killed her excitement.
Day One
Early in the morning, filled with quiet excitement, they reached Assi Ghat and stepped down towards the river.
A cool breeze brushed past them. The water was cold, and the sand beneath their feet felt damp and cool. Some people sat silently on ghat with newspapers in their hands, untouched by their phones. Others paused to capture small moments on their cameras. No one seemed in a hurry.
On one side of the ghat stood temples and old stone structures, rising above long steps. On the other side flowed the River Ganga – steady and calm. Temple bells rang softly. Priests chanted mantras that floated through the air. The ghats felt alive, yet peaceful, as if the city was breathing slowly.
The river was dotted with small and big colourful boats, moving gently with the water. The scene felt unreal – like something she had seen in bollywood movies, now coming alive in front of her.
Kashi is called “Shiv ki Nagri”, “the City of Shiva”. Not only because of history, but because his presence is felt everywhere. His name was carved on walls, whispered in prayers, and painted by artists imagining his form. It felt impossible to walk without being reminded of him.
They walked from one ghat to another. Every few hundred metres, everything changed – the temples, the walls, the statues. Every lane seemed to carry a story. Every temple felt like it held a quiet meaning. A boatman they met spoke of old times stories, as if the river had told him everything.
As the sun slowly began to set, the air felt different. It was time for Ganga Aarti.
Priests dressed in pink kurtas and dhotis stood in a line. Their movements were slow and in perfect rhythm. Lamps rose and fell, bells rang together, and chants filled the space. It felt less like a ritual and more like a moment the city had been repeating for centuries.
Aditi stood there quietly, watching, touched by a feeling she had never known before.
They ended the day on a positive note, with tired feet and a settled heart.
Day Two
At 4 a.m., they stepped out of their hotel and reached Kashi Vishwanath Temple.
Even at that hour, the line was long. They waited patiently, moving forward step by step. For Aditi, this was her first visit to a Jyotirling temple. She felt curious not restless, just quietly aware that she was standing somewhere deeply important.
They stood in long lines, waiting patiently. Inside the temple, something shifted within Aditi. The bells rang close to her ears. The chants filled the space. Prayers echoed from every direction. Everything entered her senses, but what stayed was a strong, unfamiliar energy.
After taking blessings, they walked through the back of the temple premises. Just next to it was Manikarnika Ghat – Kashi’s most sacred cremation ground.
They sat quietly at a distance, facing the ghat.
The pyres were burning, lighting up the darkness. It was a sight never seen before. A feeling never felt before. Watching the flames rise and fall, the mind slowly fell silent.
Did our daily problems really matter anymore?
The ego people carry.
The attachments they struggle to let go of.
The plans that didn’t go as expected.
The things chased for so long.
Did it really matter?
Everything in that moment felt small. The doubts, the noise, the unanswered questions none of it felt heavy anymore.
What truly matters are people, happiness, and kindness. Kashi makes you humble in a quiet, unexpected way.
The trip came to an end, but something stayed behind. As they say, you don’t go to Kashi, Kashi calls you.
Har Har Mahadev!
Sakshi Sinha 
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