* Vyomesh Chitravansh
What, after all, is Banaras? A chaotic, sleepless, noise-making city? A city of echoing temple bells and incomprehensible hymns, chants, and prayers? A city of the Assi—a stream struggling to find its identity, dismissed by some as a mere drain and revered by others as a river—and the Varuna, a river fighting for its very survival? A city of bustling crowds picnicking beneath the folded-hands sculpture at Namo Ghat, only to dissolve into solitude as one walks past Nyaya Ghat? A city of auto and toto drivers loudly hollering for passengers outside the serene stupas and ancient ruins of Sarnath? A city of devout believers standing in queues for hours inside the Kashi Vishwanath Dham complex, looking at the Gyanvapi Mosque while silently praying for the liberation of their 'Shiva'?
Banaras wears so many faces that it is impossible to define it by just one. People often ask me, "What exactly is Banaras?" and every single time I describe it, I am plagued by the doubt that I have left out the most essential part. Even after telling everything, so much remains unsaid. For Banaras is not a mere subject to be explained or a physical city to be mapped; it is a city to be felt, an experience to be lived. To truly know Banaras, one must become 'Banaras'. There is a fundamental difference between being a resident of Banaras (a Banarasi) and embodying Banaras itself. Being a Banarasi has its boundaries, but becoming Banaras is a continuous, evolving process—an eternal, living journey moving from the absolute beginning to infinity, much like a living organism.
(Meaning: That is whole, this is whole. From wholeness emerges wholeness. If you take wholeness away from wholeness, wholeness still remains.)
And in truth, Baba has never broken the trust of his people. Instead, he constantly reassures them: "I am right here, so why do you worry?"Baba does not merely look after his kin in Kashi during their lifetime; he does not abandon them even after death. Upon their passing, he himself whispers the liberating Taraka Mantra into the ears of the departed soul, freeing them from fear for their onward spiritual journey toward salvation (Moksha). It is for this very reason that he has established his camp office even amidst the cremation grounds in the form of Shmashaneshar Mahadeva. Imbued with this absolute certainty, the citizen of Kashi remains overflowing with confidence, placing their entire refuge in Baba:
'Sanandamanandavane vasantamamandakandam hatapapavrindam.
Varanasinathamanathanatham shrivishvanatham sharanam prapadye.'
(Meaning: I seek refuge in Lord Vishwanath, the master of Varanasi and the protector of the shelterless, who dwells blissfully in the forest of joy, the root of all bliss, and the destroyer of all sins.)
The people of Kashi believe that their Baba is the patriarchal head of their household who loves every single member of the family equally. His affection extends over everyone—whether they are capable or stray, whether they earn a fortune or a pittance, whether they are the matriarch managing the home, a frail elder, an innocent child, or the sole breadwinner. He looks only at the purity of their intent (Bhava). To him, offerings of milk, holy Ganga water, elaborate delicacies, honey, clarified butter, and fragrant garlands are just as dear as a handful of simple water offered when one has nothing else, alongside the wild, unwanted thorns of the datura plant and the humble madar flower.
Finding supreme contentment in every form of offering—from rich milk and honey to wild datura—Baba assures his people that learning to be satisfied with time and circumstance is the true secret to a happy life. Consequently, a true citizen of Kashi remains content in every situation. They care very little for worldly luxuries or societal validation. It makes little difference to them whether there is electricity or a blackout, whether their water running is plenty, or what their bank balance looks like. Even while living in a cramped, narrow alley wrapped in a simple cotton towel (gamchha), they live life with the exact same royal carefreeness and dignity as those speeding down six-lane or eight-lane highways in luxury automobiles, dressed in branded clothes inside air-conditioned rooms.
Stepping back from this digression and returning to the essence of Kashi—one might wonder why there are so many other deities and shrines scattered across the city. There is a sacred legend behind this as well. It is said that due to the intense penance of King Divodas of Kashi, the lord of the city, Mahadeva Shankar, was once compelled to leave Kashi. Though Mahadeva departed, he grew deeply restless without his beloved city. Seeing his profound distress, all the gods, the Bhairavas, the Yoginis, and the Kapalinis descended upon Kashi one after another, attempting to find a flaw in Divodas's rule to send him away and pave the way for Shiva's return. However, upon arriving here, they were so thoroughly captivated by the spiritual majesty of Kashi that they chose to settle down permanently themselves. Centuries later, when Mahadeva Shiva finally returned to Kashi, he graciously permitted all these deities, spirits, Bhairavas, Yoginis, Adityas, Chandras, and Vinayakas to establish their own sacred seats. Since then, there is hardly any deity or revered energy in existence that does not possess a home in Varanasi.
How factual this legend is remains an academic question, but the living truth today is that a temple exists at every turn, corner, neighborhood, and ghat of Kashi, and every single shrine holds its own unique significance. Beyond this, the people of Kashi have established separate altars for their personal deities within their own homes. It is said that Shiva resides in every speck of Kashi, a belief born out of the profound realization that it is impossible to conceptualize any moment or space in Kashi without the presence of Shankar.
The lifestyle, trade, and mindset of Kashi are subjects that stand entirely distinct in their character. They are deeply traditional, yet they constantly transcend convention. While remaining beautifully untouched by rigid modern scientific doctrines, they are profoundly scientific in their traditional practices and daily rhythms. They possess their own unique logic and philosophy. Not just the individuals, but the individual neighborhoods carry their own deep historical, mythological, and philosophical contexts. The saga of Kashi will flow endlessly, much like 'Hari Ananta Hari Katha Ananta'. Kashi can never be imprisoned within the boundaries of a pen or the limitations of spoken words. Kashi is an idea, and ideas are inherently dynamic. May this idea forever remain progressive. May the grace of Baba Vishwanath and Maa Annapurna flow uninterrupted. May Kashi continue to shine in its own eternal light.
Kashi, August 9, 2026, Sunday
What, after all, is Banaras? A chaotic, sleepless, noise-making city? A city of echoing temple bells and incomprehensible hymns, chants, and prayers? A city of the Assi—a stream struggling to find its identity, dismissed by some as a mere drain and revered by others as a river—and the Varuna, a river fighting for its very survival? A city of bustling crowds picnicking beneath the folded-hands sculpture at Namo Ghat, only to dissolve into solitude as one walks past Nyaya Ghat? A city of auto and toto drivers loudly hollering for passengers outside the serene stupas and ancient ruins of Sarnath? A city of devout believers standing in queues for hours inside the Kashi Vishwanath Dham complex, looking at the Gyanvapi Mosque while silently praying for the liberation of their 'Shiva'?
Banaras wears so many faces that it is impossible to define it by just one. People often ask me, "What exactly is Banaras?" and every single time I describe it, I am plagued by the doubt that I have left out the most essential part. Even after telling everything, so much remains unsaid. For Banaras is not a mere subject to be explained or a physical city to be mapped; it is a city to be felt, an experience to be lived. To truly know Banaras, one must become 'Banaras'. There is a fundamental difference between being a resident of Banaras (a Banarasi) and embodying Banaras itself. Being a Banarasi has its boundaries, but becoming Banaras is a continuous, evolving process—an eternal, living journey moving from the absolute beginning to infinity, much like a living organism.
(Meaning: That is whole, this is whole. From wholeness emerges wholeness. If you take wholeness away from wholeness, wholeness still remains.)
And in truth, Baba has never broken the trust of his people. Instead, he constantly reassures them: "I am right here, so why do you worry?"Baba does not merely look after his kin in Kashi during their lifetime; he does not abandon them even after death. Upon their passing, he himself whispers the liberating Taraka Mantra into the ears of the departed soul, freeing them from fear for their onward spiritual journey toward salvation (Moksha). It is for this very reason that he has established his camp office even amidst the cremation grounds in the form of Shmashaneshar Mahadeva. Imbued with this absolute certainty, the citizen of Kashi remains overflowing with confidence, placing their entire refuge in Baba:
'Sanandamanandavane vasantamamandakandam hatapapavrindam.
Varanasinathamanathanatham shrivishvanatham sharanam prapadye.'
(Meaning: I seek refuge in Lord Vishwanath, the master of Varanasi and the protector of the shelterless, who dwells blissfully in the forest of joy, the root of all bliss, and the destroyer of all sins.)
The people of Kashi believe that their Baba is the patriarchal head of their household who loves every single member of the family equally. His affection extends over everyone—whether they are capable or stray, whether they earn a fortune or a pittance, whether they are the matriarch managing the home, a frail elder, an innocent child, or the sole breadwinner. He looks only at the purity of their intent (Bhava). To him, offerings of milk, holy Ganga water, elaborate delicacies, honey, clarified butter, and fragrant garlands are just as dear as a handful of simple water offered when one has nothing else, alongside the wild, unwanted thorns of the datura plant and the humble madar flower.
Finding supreme contentment in every form of offering—from rich milk and honey to wild datura—Baba assures his people that learning to be satisfied with time and circumstance is the true secret to a happy life. Consequently, a true citizen of Kashi remains content in every situation. They care very little for worldly luxuries or societal validation. It makes little difference to them whether there is electricity or a blackout, whether their water running is plenty, or what their bank balance looks like. Even while living in a cramped, narrow alley wrapped in a simple cotton towel (gamchha), they live life with the exact same royal carefreeness and dignity as those speeding down six-lane or eight-lane highways in luxury automobiles, dressed in branded clothes inside air-conditioned rooms.
Stepping back from this digression and returning to the essence of Kashi—one might wonder why there are so many other deities and shrines scattered across the city. There is a sacred legend behind this as well. It is said that due to the intense penance of King Divodas of Kashi, the lord of the city, Mahadeva Shankar, was once compelled to leave Kashi. Though Mahadeva departed, he grew deeply restless without his beloved city. Seeing his profound distress, all the gods, the Bhairavas, the Yoginis, and the Kapalinis descended upon Kashi one after another, attempting to find a flaw in Divodas's rule to send him away and pave the way for Shiva's return. However, upon arriving here, they were so thoroughly captivated by the spiritual majesty of Kashi that they chose to settle down permanently themselves. Centuries later, when Mahadeva Shiva finally returned to Kashi, he graciously permitted all these deities, spirits, Bhairavas, Yoginis, Adityas, Chandras, and Vinayakas to establish their own sacred seats. Since then, there is hardly any deity or revered energy in existence that does not possess a home in Varanasi.
How factual this legend is remains an academic question, but the living truth today is that a temple exists at every turn, corner, neighborhood, and ghat of Kashi, and every single shrine holds its own unique significance. Beyond this, the people of Kashi have established separate altars for their personal deities within their own homes. It is said that Shiva resides in every speck of Kashi, a belief born out of the profound realization that it is impossible to conceptualize any moment or space in Kashi without the presence of Shankar.
The lifestyle, trade, and mindset of Kashi are subjects that stand entirely distinct in their character. They are deeply traditional, yet they constantly transcend convention. While remaining beautifully untouched by rigid modern scientific doctrines, they are profoundly scientific in their traditional practices and daily rhythms. They possess their own unique logic and philosophy. Not just the individuals, but the individual neighborhoods carry their own deep historical, mythological, and philosophical contexts. The saga of Kashi will flow endlessly, much like 'Hari Ananta Hari Katha Ananta'. Kashi can never be imprisoned within the boundaries of a pen or the limitations of spoken words. Kashi is an idea, and ideas are inherently dynamic. May this idea forever remain progressive. May the grace of Baba Vishwanath and Maa Annapurna flow uninterrupted. May Kashi continue to shine in its own eternal light.
Kashi, August 9, 2026, Sunday
https://chitravansh.blogspot.com
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