A Spiritual Pause in Varanasi: My Holi Journey

 Opportunities to travel come very rarely in my life. With a demanding work schedule, balancing professional responsibilities and personal travel often feels like a challenge. Yet sometimes life offers a small window of freedom. During the Holi festival this year, I was fortunate to receive an eight-day break.

The first thought that crossed my mind was unusual for me—this time, no beaches and no mountains. I wanted something different, something deeper. I decided that this break would be a spiritual journey, and almost instinctively, my mind travelled to Varanasi, one of the oldest living cities in the world.

With this thought in mind, I began my journey on 28 March 2026 from Delhi. I have always preferred travelling by train rather than by plane. A train journey carries a different rhythm of life. It gives you time—time to observe people, time to reflect, and most importantly, time to talk to strangers. Some of the most interesting conversations happen between people who meet only for a few hours and may never see each other again.

The train, however, had its own plan. It was scheduled to reach Varanasi at 9:30 a.m., but delays turned the journey into a much longer one. By the time the train finally arrived, it was 8:00 p.m. The city was alive with the colours and chaos of the Holi holidays. The station and streets were overflowing with people. Everywhere there was movement, noise, laughter, and celebration.

Navigating through the crowd was not easy, but slowly I made my way towards the ghats of the Ganges. The night air carried a strange mix of sounds—temple bells in the distance, devotional chants, and the murmur of the flowing river.

One place I had always heard about was Harishchandra Ghat, a sacred cremation ground where funeral rituals are performed day and night. I decided to visit it that very night. To be honest, I had mixed emotions. It was my first time visiting a cremation ghat, and that too alone, late at night. A quiet hesitation filled my mind.

But when I reached there, my fear slowly dissolved into reflection.

The ghat was calm, illuminated by the orange glow of the funeral pyres. Priests and families quietly performed the last rites for their loved ones. The atmosphere was not frightening as I had imagined. Instead, it felt deeply spiritual and contemplative. I sat silently for a few minutes, observing from a respectful distance. Watching the cremation rituals unfold beside the timeless flow of the Ganges was a powerful reminder of life’s impermanence. In that moment, the noise of the world seemed to fade away.

After spending some time there, I continued my walk towards the Kashi Vishwanath Dham. As I entered the temple complex, something beautiful happened—the evening aarti had just begun. I felt incredibly fortunate.

The temple courtyard glowed with lamps, the air filled with rhythmic chanting and the fragrance of incense. Devotees stood together, their voices rising in prayer as priests performed the ritual with large brass lamps moving in perfect harmony. The sound of bells echoed through the night, and the entire space seemed to vibrate with devotion.

Standing there, surrounded by faith and energy, I felt a deep sense of calm. After the long journey, the crowded streets, and the quiet reflection at the ghat, this moment felt almost magical.

Sometimes travel is not about escaping life.
Sometimes it is about understanding it a little better.

And in that sacred night in Varanasi, my spiritual break had truly begun.

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