Varanasi — Kashi to her devotees, Banaras to her lovers — is the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world. Mark Twain, who visited in 1896, wrote that "Benares is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together." More than a century later, that observation still feels exactly right. To stand on the Dashashwamedh Ghat at sunrise and watch the Ganga turn from black to amber to gold is to sense something that is at once geological and theological, something far older and far more enduring than the politics of any single age.
The city sits on a crescent-shaped western bank of the Ganga, and along this curve unfold its eighty-four ghats — each one an amphitheatre of stone steps descending into the sacred river, each one with its own story. Some are crowded and theatrical, like Dashashwamedh with its nightly aarti of fire and song. Some are silent and grave, like Manikarnika and Harishchandra, where the cremation pyres burn day and night. Some are bohemian and artistic, like Assi, where students of the Banaras Hindu University gather at dusk to play the tabla. The ghats are not a tourist attraction in the conventional sense; they are a living religious-cum-civic space, and to walk them slowly from south to north is to receive a complete education in Hindu thought.
Above the ghats, in the maze of lanes called the Pakka Mahal, lives the city's second self — a labyrinth of brass-bell shops, paan stalls, silk weavers, sweet halwais and tiny shrines tucked into walls so old they have begun to lean. Cows wander unfazed, processions snake past, and somewhere a Sanskrit recitation is always drifting from a window. At the heart of this maze stands the Kashi Vishwanath Temple, one of the twelve Jyotirlingas of Lord Shiva and the spiritual centre of gravity for Hindus everywhere. Lord Shiva, the city's eternal resident, is said to whisper the Taraka Mantra into the ear of every soul that dies in Kashi, granting moksha. That promise — of liberation from the cycle of birth and death — is what has drawn pilgrims here for at least three thousand years, and it is what continues to draw them today.