Varanasi, a Revelation
It was the hot summer of 2016. In just three months, I was going to have a wedding. I was bombarded with the list of items I had to buy to pull off a bridal look even barely. It is exhausting to be an Indian bride. Even a fashionista will admit having a moment when she was close to losing it during her wedding preparations. I was lucky enough to have an aunt who happens to be an expert in Indian ethnic wear with a successful boutique of her own. My burden was mostly her burden. We decided to get some classic and timeless Banarasi outfits for my wedding right from the source itself. I was anyway overwhelmed with the wedding planning, so a trip to Varanasi looked like a tiny escapade of sorts. Three women — my mother, my aunt, and I were embarking on a train journey to Varanasi with the intention of getting exquisite outfits at affordable prices.
As soon as we reached one of the world’s oldest cities, I expected the city to engulf me with the old world charm completely. Instead, I was struggling to fight the heat, humidity, and dust this historical place welcomed me with. After navigating our way through the narrow sinuous streets of Varanasi, we reached our lodge to rid ourselves from the grime we had collected from a long train journey to this polluted city. My desire to go raiding for perfect outfits started waning. However, the ladies with me who are decades older than me were ready to hit the town and I had to tag along, leaving the lure of a bed and air-conditioner.
If a city could identify itself with a color, saffron would be the color for Varanasi undoubtedly. The city smells of kumkum and haldi. The neon orange sindoor on married women’s hair parting shines brighter than any highlighter you might have ever used. That ‘in your face’ symbol forces your vision towards the woman’s marital status before you can even catch a glimpse of the woman. Hinduism is all I could see, smell, and feel in this city.
The visit to Kashi Vishwananath temple was rushed because of the massive crowds visiting it everyday to pray for peace and salvation. Before I could feel any presence of divinity, I was out of the temple left to seek it somewhere else. The little makeup I had on my face had already melted off in the unforgiving July heat. Women don’t sweat as much as men, they say. Well, you should have seen me breaking that stereotype.
Varanasi is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend & looks twice as old as all of them put together. — Mark Twain
Whenever I imagined Varanasi, I would always picture busy ghats with devotees and priests lining up in bright colored clothing, carrying ornate aarti thalis and diyas,and performing rituals with the sound of temple bells resonating in the background. Since it was afternoon, Dashashwamedh Ghat wasn’t that busy and we found a spot where we could sit and soak in the history flowing in the air for a while. As much as I wished the city to be much cleaner and cooler, I could see why it means so much to so many. It offers a chance of redemption to the breathing and a chance of heavenly passage to the departed.
The next day, we three Musketeers got ready with our purses and shopping bags to explore what Varanasi had to offer in the sartorial department. I was not ready for what was in store, quite literally. The markets were teeming with stunning fabrics. We were told how Bollywood celebrities’ fashion entourage picks out unique pieces from these shops. Some stores looked like deteriorated ancient buildings from the outside but morphed into fancy showrooms with high-end contemporary interiors. Once the store employees knew we were serious about the shopping, they offered us the best of culinary options Varanasi has to offer.
For a while, I was more into stuffing myself with the finger-licking snacks than trying the gorgeous Banarasi weaves. I was having my fleeting ‘Marie Antoinette’ moment, and I was not sorry for it. As I was relishing in the fineries that Varanasi was showering me with, I realized most of the weavers and business owners were Muslims. I was unaware that Varanasi had some surprises in store for me.
Being a researcher, data means the world to me. I decided to make more observations in the shops I go to. Be it the fancy elaborate showrooms we had access to just because my aunt is a boutique owner or the makeshift shops in cramped houses. I found out that the owners, weavers, wholesalers, and assistants were mostly Muslim men. A drive across Varanasi blurred the lines of saffron and green for me.
My aunt took us to a Muslim wholesaler’s house. A Muslim man was helping me choose and drape beautiful sarees. There I was, a Hindu bride-to-be in a Muslim family’s house, draping gorgeous sarees chosen by a Muslim wholesaler, and weaved with the love and labor of Muslim weavers. His hijab wearing wife offered us cold drinks and snacks. She smiled at me as I was playing dress-up in their cozy home. I felt more Indian in those moments of tenderness. Even the endless immigration queues at international airports couldn’t top that. After we picked what we liked, the wholesaler insisted on dropping us off in his car because he wanted three Hindu women to reach their lodge safely in the night.
My saffron-green round trip revealed that in the end, we all want happiness for each other. So many of Hindu brides, who look like Goddesses have Muslim weavers to thank for the resplendent attires. They are all draped in the blessings of Varanasi and Muslim artisans. If India decides to have a national fabric besides khadi, I would vote for the luxurious Banarasi silk fabric. It also represents rich artistry, heritage, and harmony.
The city illumines truth and reveals reality. It does not bring new wonders into the scope of vision, but enables one to see what is already there. Where this eternal light intersects the earth, it is known as Kashi. — Diana L. Eck
Varanasi was a revelation for me in multiple ways. It validated my idea of the true essence of India. If you happen to visit Varanasi, share your stories with me. And let me tell you that it would be a shame to return without gorging on Kachori sabzi, thandai, lassi, Banarasi paan, and everything else the epic Varanasi street food has to offer. Ensure you carry some stretchy pants with you.
