**
The Joy of Wandering Alone
You know, after wandering here and there—with people, with family, with friends—and now, alone (and not just now, even earlier too), I’ve come to realize: I like all of it.
I like traveling with family. I enjoy going places with friends. I love shared laughter, shared meals.
But exploring in solitude? That hits different. That’s something else. Something deeper.
It’s not loneliness. It’s not sadness.
It’s just that when I travel in solitude, I feel more connected to the place, to myself.
The Ghat Walk
Right now, I’m on the ghats of Banaras. Just walking along the banks.
There are temples all around. Boats drifting. People taking selfies, clicking photographs, going about their everyday lives.
The business of… whatever their version of spirituality is.
They call this walk the ghat walk. A peaceful stroll along the river. I sat for almost an hour. Even got some coding done. Just enjoyed being still. On one end of the ghat, there’s almost nothing. But in the evening, the place transforms. Food stalls open—Maggi, momos, whatever your heart desires.
I’d never really stayed long enough to experience this part of it. Sure, I’ve done the boat rides before—but this walk, this silence? This was something else.
A Conversation
**
**
At one point, I sat beside a beggar. Gave him a hundred rupees. I just wanted to know his story.
He said he was from Bihar. Told me a bit about his family. Said he was going to see them in a couple of weeks—after two whole years.
He’s here in Banaras for spiritual reasons. That’s what he told me.
Since he’s uneducated, he relies completely on the kindness of strangers—passersby who give him a little something.
We sat for around 15 minutes. He didn’t speak much. Just offered me blessings—to get a job, to keep learning, to stay on the right path.
Another man came by, sipping tea, cracking jokes. But the beggar stayed quiet. Distant. Peaceful.
Some People Don’t Want to Tell Their Story
You know, most people—when they get a listener—are quick to open up.
Because in the end, what are we left with, if not our stories?
But this man… it felt like he didn’t care.
Maybe his home wasn’t a place he wanted to return to. Maybe this ghat—this corner of Banaras—was all he had left. And yet, the peace on his face? Unshaken.
I wanted to know more. I wanted to understand what leads someone to live this way. But he didn’t want to talk, and I didn’t push.
I just stood up and kept walking.
The Peace of Banaras
**
**
That moment stayed with me. A man, away from his family for two years, sitting quietly by the Ganges… and yet, so still. So content.
There’s something about this place. A kind of peace.
Peace—the only word that feels right. Not silence. Not quiet. Something deeper. The kind that seeps into your bones when you’re here.
On the banks of the Ganga. In Banaras. In this hour.
And the strange part? I’ve only walked half the ghat. The other half still waits.
How It All Began: A Detour Into the Unexpected
Also—something I should’ve mentioned at the start—this whole walk? Completely unplanned.
I’d just eaten some puri and sabzi, when I noticed people walking into a narrow gali instead of the usual path. Normally, I take the same road every time I visit—grab some Maggi, sit for a bit, then head home.
But today? Something nudged me.
I followed the crowd into the alley—and wow. The ghat that opened up was incredible. That’s how this whole walk started.
One step turned into another.
And here I am, still walking. Still exploring.
Virtual Kashi Vishwanath: A Surprisingly Real Experience
Oh, and before I forget—I did a virtual tour of the Kashi Vishwanath Temple today.
And it was amazing.
Like, really immersive. Felt so real. I know that if I had actually pushed through that heavy crowd in real life, I wouldn’t have enjoyed it as much.
But this? The virtual tour? It worked.
Highly recommend it.
Signing off for now.
Half the ghat explored. The other half still calls.
See you soon.
