Banaras — The City That Actually Never Sleeps
Let’s get one thing out of the way: Banaras (Varanasi, if we’re being formal) is not just a city. It’s a fever dream of time, belief, traffic, food, and contradictions, all swirling around the ghats of the Ganga like a never-ending aarti.
It doesn’t sleep — not because it’s too busy hustling, but because it’s too wired on spirituality, chaos, and chai.
Where Time Took a Pause (and Nobody Complained)
Banaras is widely believed to be one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world. And honestly, it shows — in a charming, dusty, almost-missed-the-modern-train kind of way. The architecture is stunning, the ghats are soul-stirring, and the alleys are the kind of narrow that makes you question your life choices while dodging scooters, cows, and chatty locals all at once.
It’s a place where time has decided to take a sabbatical, and the locals are happy being stuck somewhere between 1500 BCE and WhatsApp forwards. The city wants to grow. The people want better things.
But the politics? Oh, it just wants another round of chai before doing anything remotely useful.
High on Belief, Low on Follow-through
One of the city’s biggest flexes is its deep, unwavering belief in traditions. You feel it in the rituals, the chants, the thousands of lamps that float every night on the Ganga. But scratch the surface, and you realize that this belief often goes unexamined, unquestioned — and worse, uncelebrated in the right way.
Banaras has all the ingredients to strengthen its legacy — history, culture, spirituality — but somehow forgets to preserve and present it in a way that could really uplift its own story. The devotion is sky-high and the spiritual energy that permeates the air on the boat rides under the moonlight with and the endless cups of chai shared over deep conversations.
The Great Spiritual Marketplace
You know what’s also sky-high? The number of foreigners in the city trying to “find themselves.”
You’ll spot them on boats, in yoga classes, or just wandering the ghats with wide eyes and wider pants. They come in search of peace, enlightenment, and maybe a nice Instagram story.
And the locals? They’ve cracked the code: sell what tourists are buying — God.
VIP darshans? ✅
Customized pujas for your aura? ✅
Spiritual guides who moonlight as rickshaw drivers? ✅ ✅.
It’s spirituality on demand and a stern reminder that even in the holiest of places, money often talks louder than prayers.
The Yin and Yang of Banaras
What’s beautiful about Banaras is that it can feel like a giant, open-air museum on one side — and a completely different city on the other. Cross the Ganga, and suddenly you’re in a zone full of malls, cafes, and neon-lit reminders that capitalism never sleeps either.
It’s this duality that makes Banaras fascinating. On one side: the age-old rituals, crumbling temples, and those alleys that seem to loop in on themselves.
The Food: A Glorious Redemption
Now, if Banaras ever wanted a rebranding campaign, they should just use pictures of their food. It’s chef’s kiss level good.
From the kachori-sabzi that’s basically deep-fried love, to the creamy, foamy miracle that is malaiyyo, the city’s street food game is unbeatable. And it’s cheap. Like “how-is-this-even-legal” cheap.
Whether it’s aloo-tikki, baati chokha, or a kulhad of lassi that could double as a dessert, you’re never too far from a flavor bomb. Even the paan is a full-blown experience. The food doesn’t just feed you — it hugs your soul and sends you back into the madness with a smile.
The Chaos is the Culture
Let’s talk about traffic. Or should we say, organized chaos with a touch of divine intervention? Rules exist, but mostly as vague suggestions. One-way streets? Cute. Lane driving? Ambitious. Red lights? Decorative.
The streets of Banaras are a masterclass in co-existence. Cows, autos, luxury cars, cycles, and the occasional wedding band all share the same five feet of road. And somehow, it works. There’s honking, yelling, reversing in the middle of intersections — and yet, no road rage. Just shrugging. It’s the Banarasi way.
Civic Sense? We’ll Get There Someday
Now, before we romanticize the chaos too much — it’s not all endearing. Banaras, like many Indian cities, suffers from a chronic lack of civic sense. Litter where it shouldn’t be, spit stains marking territory, and enough stray wires to power a small village.
But here’s the kicker: the police are everywhere. You’ll see them at intersections, near temples, in ghats, and even sipping tea while casually ignoring three traffic violations in front of them. They’re present, just not always… participating.
Sarnath: The Clean, Calm Cousin
Amidst all this buzz is Sarnath, just a few kilometers away. It’s clean, peaceful, and preserved with the kind of care you wish Banaras received. This is where Buddha gave his first sermon. And you can tell — because everything’s labelled, restored, and actually respected.
Which makes you wonder: are only non-Hindu heritage sites maintained properly? A philosophical (and mildly political) question for another time. But it raises questions about preservation priorities and the narratives we choose to uphold .
The People: Annoying and Adorable, Sometimes at Once
Let’s not pretend everyone here is a saint. There’s definitely a “quick buck” culture — especially when it comes to tourists. But beneath the hustle is a deeply warm, helpful community. Ask for directions, and you’ll get five different routes — and a story about someone’s cousin who lives near that area.
The small-town vibe in this big city is real. People remember faces, chai stall owners know your order, and strangers don’t stay strangers for long. Banaras may have its flaws, but it’s never cold or indifferent.
Conclusion: It’s a Vibe (Sometimes a Messy One)
Banaras is not polished. It’s not organized, or super clean, or even logical most of the time. But it doesn’t try to be. What it is, is honest. Loud, spiritual, stubborn, flavorful, old-school, enterprising, poetic — and very much alive.
It’s the kind of place where you might question a lot of things — your beliefs, your patience, your GPS — but never the fact that you felt something real.
Because Banaras doesn’t just exist. It happens to you. Every single second. No wonder it never sleeps.
Congratulations on reaching the end of this piece. All the insights shared in this piece is gathered from my recent trip to Banaras.
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