There are some cities that don’t just exist — they breathe. For me, Kashi (Varanasi) was one of them. I had always heard people call it the city of moksha, where time slows down and the soul feels free. So one fine morning, I packed my bag, left my routine behind, and went on my first solo trip to Kashi.

The moment I reached, I was welcomed by the sounds of temple bells, the aroma of incense, and the rush of people moving through narrow, ancient lanes. My stay was a small homestay near Assi Ghat and every evening, I’d sit by the Ganga with chai, watching diyas float away with people’s prayers.

The Ganga Aarti at Dashashwamedh Ghat was a sight I’ll never forget — hundreds of lamps lighting up the river, chants echoing across the water. It felt divine, like the whole city was breathing in rhythm.

My mornings started early with a sunrise boat ride — soft light on the water, sadhus meditating, children laughing on the ghats. Later, I roamed through the markets, tasted spicy kachori sabzi, sweet malaiyyo, and lost myself in Kashi’s vibrant chaos.

But it wasn’t just about the sights. Visiting Manikarnika Ghat changed something inside me — seeing how peacefully people accept life and death made me realize how small my worries were. Kashi taught me that peace doesn’t mean silence; it means balance.

This solo trip wasn’t just travel — it was healing. I went to Kashi with questions and came back with calm.