Night fell over Varanasi. For Hindus who believe in the cycle of reincarnation, cremation by the Ganges River—locally known as the Ganga—is a sacred ritual. I witnessed one such ceremony with my own eyes.
The fires often lacked the strength to fully incinerate the bodies, and sometimes the remains were simply released into the river. In that raw intersection of life and death, a heavy reality settled into my chest. Some people bathed in the river nearby, but I couldn’t bring myself to follow.
Out of nowhere, Ravi stormed in, furious. He was upset that I’d bought souvenirs at a different shop than the one he had introduced. “I was kind to you, and you betrayed me,” he shouted.
True, Ravi had been kind. But expecting loyalty in the form of a purchase felt wrong. Throughout my journey, I often struggled to draw the line between genuine kindness and business. In India, those boundaries are fluid.
Still, the noise, the encounters, the endless surprises—all of it carved itself into memory. The few days I spent in Varanasi remain some of the most vivid of my trip.
Next up: Wandering Through India #5 — Homecoming and the ‘Sacred Gyudon’
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