The Silence of The Ganges: Ghats, Banarasi Food, And The Grandeur Of Kashi

It took me two trips to finally articulate my thoughts and write about the oldest city in India. With over 3,000 years of history, it could not be captured in a short five-day trip.

The first time around, even after a rigorous trip through the wildlife parks of Arunachal Pradesh and the mangroves of Sunderbans via Kolkata by sleeper bus, the city felt cramped. It was June, and the narrow lanes felt even more congested. I was immediately in awe of the enormous amount of littering. The holiest city and the lack of basic civic sense didn’t sit right with me. The guest house was in one of these lanes and, thankfully, was newly built; everything was spic and span. The Holy Ganges flowed gracefully and could be seen from the window. The next five days were filled with walking the ghats and eating everything I had researched. The kachauri, the lassi, the puri, and the sabji were all relished with the same enthusiasm.

I discovered that the famous ‘Ganga Arti’ is performed at every ghat, but the largest is at the Dashashwamedha Ghat. There are 88 ghats in total. Each of them is performed ardently irrespective of the size of the troupe. Some of the ghats had just one person doing the entire routine. I also understood that to be part of the troupe that performs at the main ghat, one might have to be of a certain calibre, because it requires not only knowledge but also considerable strength to follow the highly energetic routine that evokes devotion in anyone who watches.

On one such day, as I walked past the ‘Darbhanga Ghat,’ I was quite intrigued, as it shared its name with a place in Bihar. After further research (read: questioning locals), I figured that a former King had moved there and renamed the ghat after his kingdom, Darbhanga.

Standing tall there now is the BrijRama Palace; I knew I had to explore the palace and at least pretend that I was a queen. Unfortunately, due to time constraints and the end-of-season rush, I failed to secure a stay there, but four weeks later, I was chaperoned into the palace with much gusto.

The second time around, though, Varanasi was completely different from the Varanasi I had recently visited. The Holy Ganga was all swollen and proudly flowing through, submerging all the ghats entirely. It was a sight so contrastingly different. The palace guests are usually brought in from the ghat, the GM said the moment he saw me. “It’s too dangerous now”, he added. Thinking about my half-rickshaw ride and half-walk to the palace made me relish the thought of entering through the water at the ghat, right at the staircase leading to the palace, and avoiding the cacophony of the city. The sight of the river from the top was quite overwhelming, but the effect was rather calming.

Inside BrijRama Palace: Experiencing Varanasi Like Royalty

The welcome had to be grandiose; the priests chanted shlokas and made me wear a garland of Rudraksh, which is believed to be “Tears of Shiva” in Hinduism and is therefore sacred. The spirituality that is supposed to be invoked when in Benaras was totally at play here. The efforts continued as they gifted me a Bhagavad Gita, and after sprinkling Holy Water, I was escorted to my suite overlooking the overflowing river.

The whole experience was starkly striking for its opulence of the yesteryears. Erected in 1812 by the Maratha Dynasty, the palace has been restored to its former state. All the rooms are intact and still in their original glory. I was hosted in the Varuna Burj Suite, which offers a 180-degree view of the city and the river in magnificence. I was all set to encounter Varanasi once again, through a different lens, with the illusion of living like a queen for a couple of days.

First things first, I took a nap. I woke up with the sound of the sitar and knew it was time for high tea. The tables were laid, and every item on the menu was perfectly paired. The Tamatar chat demanded second helpings. The luxury of life is quite often experienced in the quietness and stillness, and as I sat there alone with my cuppa, I realised it might not be as exciting to be a queen in practice as it is in theory. The pressure to perform is real. And my bubble burst, and I came back to reality.

The blue hour was here, and it was time for Kathak. Varanasi and Kathak go hand in hand. Believed to have originated in Uttar Pradesh, it is a premier classical Indian dance form. Legends say that in Benaras, the dance form evolved into this specialised, high-energy, devotional dance called the Benaras Gharana. And this was exactly what the performance was. Serenading each other and Lord Krishna in metaphor, I watched it from the queen’s balcony and clapped the loudest when they finished. It was now time for the four-course dinner.

What To Eat In Varanasi: From Kachauri Sabzi To Banarasi Aloo Dum

Food in Varanasi is very alluring for any chaat lover. But there is definitely more.

Kulhad Chai early in the morning on a boat is the only way to start your day. Paired with Sabji Kachauri, it gives you the essence of the place with the right amount of calories. I added Lassi to the ritual because too many spices in the morning is not a habit I have. The balance was good. Most local stalls run out by 11 AM. So starting early helps. Mostly vegetarian, food from all over the world is available in the lanes towards the ghats.

The four-course dinner at BrijRama was a perfect amalgamation of everything that the lanes offered, but it was all laid for me on the terrace one night overlooking the Ganges. On that humid night, Benaras was quiet as the soft roars of the Ganga enveloped me, making me relish that dinner for one even more. It took me over two hours to slowly enjoy all its distinct flavours.

Being in the month of Shravan, there were interesting additions to the menu, such as Sabudana. Also, the whole menu had no garlic or onion. The meal started with Dal Adrakhi Shorba, a ginger-spiced lentil soup, poured from a silver pot into my silverware. Felt like a royal indeed!

Haha Bhara Kabab followed, which were patties made with potatoes, green peas, spinach and spices. Looking all green and healthy, I gobbled them in no time. As I devoured two more of them, the GM joined me and told me that all the ingredients are seasonal and especially chosen to beat the weather. As we finished sipping our teas, the main course arrived, and I continued being fed like royalty.

The Aloo Dum Banarsi is a local delicacy cooked in a tomato gravy and, of course, served with rice. As the server approached me, I knew it was time to focus and get my hands dirty. Dividing the rice between the dal Pechammel and the aloo Dum banarasi, I dived right into it. The debauchery didn’t end there, as I ate two big bowls of rice kheer, served chilled, and asked them to have the sliced mangoes sent to my suite so I could have them in bed.

The Many Faces Of Kashi

Varanasi has been considered one of the most spiritual cities in the world. While on my two consecutive visits, I experienced two different Benaras.

One trip was spent looking for it in the usual spots, while the other was spent finding it preserved right where it originated. The BrijRama has not only kept the opulence of Kashi alive in statues, in etiquette, traditions, and food, but also strives to offer the same aristocracy that Kashi once saw.

The other part of Varanasi is still stuck in time. Paired with a lack of civic sense has slightly taken the charm away, but this is what happens when development in the name of progress leads nowhere.

This is where capitalism fails, and places like Varanasi probably need to remain preserved so that devotees are reminded of their roots and stay grounded.

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