8 ~ Starting to Arrive in Varanasi

December 13

We rode back at night through the narrow streets of Rishikesh. The city looked more beautiful, the suspension bridge was illuminated, resembling a horizontal staircase stretching across the Ganges from one side to the other. The pyramid-shaped temple tops were also lit, as if they were touching the sky. By day, the city is quite intense, full of people moving about. Now, everything was calm. There was no one—only the mountains, the jungle, and the silence.

Each ride on the motorcycle felt like being inside a New Age two-wheeled temple, and as if it were a ritual, we always ended up talking about spiritual things. In the end, that’s what India and its people have—you always end up talking about deep things almost without meaning to, whether you're in a market, walking down the street in conversation with a stranger, or riding a motorcycle. You always end up talking about spirituality, karma, and death—which, in the end, is life. I like that.

Once again, Akash started telling me a story. This time, it was about his experience with death in Varanasi, the city of the sacred fires.

Some time ago, I had asked him what his favorite Indian city was. Almost randomly, as if picking up an old conversation, he started telling me about Varanasi and the time he had lived there.Benarés in Hindi, Varanasi in English—it is the holiest city for Hindus. They call it Kashi, the city of God, and consider it the city of Shiva, one of the three most important gods of the Hindu trinity.

It is one of the oldest cities in India and also in the world. It was, and still is, one of India's most important cultural, philosophical, and classical music centers. But above all, it is a sacred city—a spiritual, religious, and pilgrimage center.Varanasi is the city where Hindus bring their dead to the open-air cremation sites along the banks of the Ganges for purification rituals.

Akash told me that he had left his parents' home in the Rajasthan desert when he was 19. As is common in India, his parents wanted him to continue the family business, so they had forbidden him from studying. One day, he had enough and decided to leave for Varanasi on his own.

"After two days in Kashi, I already wanted to leave"

Across from his house was a kind of "hospice" where elderly or ill people would stay to wait for death and have the privilege of dying in Varanasi. According to tradition, if you die in Kashi, the sacred city, the cycle of Samsara—the endless reincarnation cycle on Earth—is broken, and the soul finally attains Moksha—liberation—and thus ceases to be reborn.

"But why would someone not want to live again?" I asked, holding onto my accidental worldview.

"Too much suffering and pain here... We come into this life to learn and to resolve what we left unfinished in our past life. But sometimes that learning, that evolution of our soul, isn’t easy—it involves suffering. Life involves suffering. Breaking the cycle of reincarnation on Earth means ascending to another plane, leaving suffering behind, and reaching true peace. A new awakening, a meeting with God."

These hospices are called Mukti Bhawan and Moksha Bhawan, which mean House of Liberation and House of Enlightenment. As their names suggest, they are simple spaces where people stay to perform their rituals and wait for the inevitable—which, according to them, is not simply death, but rather the attainment of Moksha, the absolute liberation from reincarnation.

So just try to imagine the energy of Varanasi .Life through death. A true transmutation of energy.

-In Varanasi, every day I watched from my balcony as they carried the dead in vehicles to the cremation grounds. Then, the family members would lift the body, wrapped in orange cloth and adorned with flowers, onto their shoulders and carry it in a pilgrimage to the banks of the Ganges for cremation.

Along the way, they chanted Ram Naam Satya Hai: "God is truth."And there it was, once again:God is the only possible path—death and life.

(…) I couldn’t bear it; it caused me deep pain. I didn’t know how to deal with death.Ever since I was a child, there were many taboos in my family—my parents never spoke about it. I think that’s why I was never able to process it.

At some point, watching the dead pass by from my window became unbearable, so I decided to leave. I packed my things, prepared my suitcase, and got ready to return to Rajasthan.

(...) That morning, I woke up at dawn to catch the train. I sat on the balcony, smoking a cigarette, when I saw a man across the street, in the hospice, performing poojas—offerings—at a small altar by the entrance.I kept watching him.

The man began cleaning the small temple. And I don’t know what happened at that moment, but suddenly, I felt something that made me go downstairs and offer to help him. It was a strange feeling. But I went down and asked for permission to assist him.

The man told me it wasn’t necessary. I insisted.I don’t know where that came from.

In the end, I helped him clean the place and prepare the pooja for that day. Later, he invited me for chai, and we started talking. He asked me to return for dinner, but I told him I was leaving Varanasi. He asked why, and that’s when I told him about my struggle with death.

"Death is a part of life," he said. "It’s not something bad. Every day that I see the dead pass by on the carts, I am reminded of how close we are to death, and that shows me the importance of life—what truly matters."- I remember it as if it were today. The old man paused, as if he needed to gather courage before continuing:

"Life is shorter than we think. But in the end, the life that truly matters isn’t this one—it’s the other life, the real one, the life of the soul. This is just a learning process, a passage, a game. A journey of our soul embodied in a finite body. Of course, we must do the best we can and continue evolving, but without forgetting what truly matters.

We must take action in this life, but without attachment to the results, as the Bhagavad Gita says: 'Karmanye vadhikaraste, ma phaleshu kadachana'—You have the right to perform your duty, but not to the fruits of your actions."

"There is no point in attaching ourselves to this body and this material reality because both are temporary. So watching the bodies pass by is a good reminder to reaffirm our priorities, to appreciate what truly matters, and to enjoy life. In the end, there’s no sense in worrying about material things, because that is not where the real challenge lies. What’s the point of losing our center and the true purpose of our soul in a life that isn’t the one that truly matters?

We must not be afraid. We are not just a body, and death is nothing more than a new beginning—a mere change of form.

We must have the wisdom to start cultivating the other life. That is why we are here."

We talked about death for a while, Akash continued. The man eventually convinced me to stay and help him at the shelter. After thinking it over, I agreed. I still don't remember why, but I agreed.

I worked nearly a year at that place where terminally ill patients and elderly people came to await death, choosing to die there because dying in Kashi is a privilege and a blessing. It's the true purification of the soul.

Akash would check them in, to put it simply. He would take their information and input it. As I held onto him on the back of the motorcycle, following along with the story, he told me about the day a man gifted him his last 1000 rupees.

"I won't need it anymore. All I really needed was to come here; this is all I want now. Money is just paper, it's useless. It never served any purpose. How often we mistake what truly nourishes our soul. What is the true meaning of life? Sometimes it's hard to understand... Thankfully, I'm here now and I know this is my final destination. I've reached where I needed to be, I'm leaving in peace, ready to await death because I'm ready to attain liberation. Om Namah Shivaya. This is all my soul needs.

I hope this note reminds you too, so you don't mistake what the true meaning of our journey in this life is.

They became close friends, sharing endless cups of chai and preparing poojas together. And like so many others, he bid him farewell and watched his body scatter into the air, merging with the sacred.

"I framed that bill and keep it as a reminder of death, but more than anything of how I want to live my life. I don't want to get lost again in this screen in front of us, which seems like reality but isn't. I'll surely get lost again; we get lost and find ourselves all the time, but with some reminders, one returns faster.

We always get lost, we're human. That's our learning and our journey. That's why we're here, but how beautiful to know the points where to return. Points that remind us of what's true, what really matters amidst this Matrix, gradually opening our eyes and expanding our consciousness; this school-life as the Bhagavad Gita says.

Realizing we got lost is also somehow continuing on the path. Knowing how to return is an art as well.

-We talked about death for a while," Akash continued. "The man eventually convinced me to stay and help at the hospice. After thinking about it for a bit, I agreed. I still don’t remember why, but I did.

I worked there for almost a year, in that place where the terminally ill and the elderly came to wait for death. They chose to die there because dying in Kashi is a privilege and a blessing. It is the true purification of the soul.

Akash handled the check-ins, to put it simply. He recorded their details and registered them.

As I clung to his back on the motorcycle, trying not to lose the thread of his story, he told me about the day a man gifted him the last 1,000 rupees he had.

"I won’t need it anymore. The only thing I truly needed was to come here—this is all I want now. Money is just paper; it’s worthless. It has never meant anything. How often we mistake what truly nourishes our soul.What is the real meaning of life?... Sometimes it’s hard to understand. But thankfully, I am here now, and I know this is my final destination. I have arrived where I needed to be. I leave in peace—I am ready to wait for death because I am ready to attain liberation. Om Namah Shivaya. This is all my soul needs.

I hope this piece of paper reminds you too, so you don’t mistake what our journey in this life is truly about."

They became very close, sharing endless cups of chai and preparing poojas together. And like so many others, Akash bid him farewell, watching his body scatter into the air and merge with the sacred.

-I framed that bill," he said, -as a reminder of death—but more than that, as a reminder of how I want to live my life. I don’t want to lose myself again in this screen we have in front of us, the one that looks like reality but isn’t. I’ll surely lose myself again—we all do. We lose ourselves and find ourselves over and over. But with the right reminders, we return more quickly.

We always get lost—we are human. That is our journey, our learning. That is why we are here, but how beautiful it is to know the places to return to—those points that remind us of what is true, what really matters amidst this Matrix, to slowly open our eyes and expand our consciousness in this school we call life, as the Bhagavad Gita says.

Realizing that we are lost is, in itself, still part of the path. Knowing how to return is also an art.

-When you have a problem, leave it in the hands of the Ganga. It takes care of everything. Here, people go and offer their troubles to the Ganga. They let them go with the water, with faith.

I kept that in my mind.Over the days, I would start gifting little things to the Ganga.

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❦

Learnings

Learning is a curious thing.

The greatest lessons do not come dressed as lessons, rather, they tend to disguise themselves as challenges, obstacles, disappointments, problems, and confusion.

That is how they teach us, by pulling us out of the comfort of what we already know, taking us to unfamiliar territory, places we never go simply because we don’t like them, because they make us uncomfortable.

Sometimes they catch us off guard, outside of our plans, beyond all control and expectations. They stop us by force, that is their trick. Perhaps the only way.

They confuse us, destabilize us, frustrate us, make us sick, leave us stunned, immobilized. They find the perfect ground where our old knowledge is no longer useful, forcing us to embrace something new. They push us to set aside our yellowed, outdated wisdom and—whether we like it or not—put on the apprentice’s apron once again.

And then, slowly,veeeery slowly, and only at the right moment, they begin to remove their disguise, but not before first shattering some part of our mind, our body, or our heart.

And when they finally manage to destroy the old, that is when they make space for the new.

Smile. This is good news.

Life has not forgotten you. You are simply in the eye of the storm, preparing your wingsso they may soon become a butterfly.

Welcome to the school.

You are still on your path.

❦