Wherever we travel and whomever we meet, we are often drawn to the places and people we imagine, finding a sense of peace and belonging in those moments. I was born in a village, and many of my childhood memories still resonate within its embrace. Then I moved to a town, a place where troubles often overshadowed my experiences. It was here that I fell in love with a girl, a bond that felt unachievable yet lingered in my heart. Though time passed and those memories faded, they carried both joy and pain. Yet I did not find a place that I feel it is my home…
In searching for connection, I pondered why I seemed unseen by those around me. My journey led me across the world, meeting souls from various walks of life, yet nowhere did I find the sense of home I longed for. The charm of new places captivated me, but my academic pursuits often felt like an anchor, pulling me away from the freedom I sought.
After enduring many rejections, I found myself in Allahabad, now known as Prayagraj. Upon arriving in the city, I felt like an outsider, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and gritty streets. Yet, I realized that stepping forward was essential; my growth depended on embracing this new chapter. The thought of a future as a lecturer in Hyderabad loomed before me, presenting a choice: to accept a monotonous existence or to ignite a spark of purpose.
Yet, in the seemingly bleak city of Prayaga, I found renewed life and strength, awakening my mind to new possibilities. My journey led me across various countries, eventually settling in Abu Dhabi, a place I had never heard of until I arrived. It mirrored my experience in Prayaga — both were unexpected homes that shaped my journey.
Two weeks ago, I made an unexpected trip to Prayaga and Varanasi, prompted by a few friends eager to explore these cities. There was also a deep urge within me to revisit the place I left six years ago. India feels to me like a complex woman — one I’ve struggled to understand and with whom I’ve often felt uncomfortable, caught up in its politics and dust. Yet, the people — the conversations and connections — have always drawn me in. I’ve been present during times of financial struggle, but I wonder what it would be like to thrive there, to experience its vibrancy from a different perspective.
Now, let me share my recent travels to Prayaga and Varanasi.
What I expected upon returning was the familiar dust of the city, teeming with people — faces I usually don’t see, mostly from villages who travel great distances to take a dip in the sacred Ganges (Maa Ganga) at the Triveni Sangam. In these moments, I observe India and its people as strangers in this city, even though I speak their language; I find I don’t truly know them. I feel more like an observer than a participant in their world.
Prayaga, where I lived for around seven years, often made me wonder if those who resided there for such a long time ever ventured beyond its borders. I struggled with a fear of unemployment after completing my PhD, as my skills felt limited. Though I don’t consider myself a quick learner, I have the capacity to delve deeply into one subject at a time.
A few key experiences have brought joy to my life, guiding me through the intricate maze of academia. However, Allahabad does not seem like a nurturing hub for education; beyond the university, the environment lacks motivation and vibrancy. Life here revolves largely around pilgrimage, and occasionally, that reality inspires me to break free from norms and aspire for something greater.
During my seven years there, I’m not sure if I ever dared to take a dip in the river, despite visiting multiple times to gaze at the flowing water and expansive lands. Often, I would lay back and watch the sky above, absorbing the serenity. Prayaga is a tapestry of mixed emotions; while it is not the most academically vibrant city, it has shaped my journey in profound ways.
Let me share my experience at the Kumbh Mela. I went not just to take a dip but to witness India and its people. Personally, I do not believe in rebirth; even if it exists, I don’t wish to avoid it in the next life. The idea of starting fresh in another birth, without memories of the past, feels liberating. To me, the cyclical nature of birth in Indian mythology lacks logical consequence.
What amazes me, however, is the sheer number of people flocking to Kumbh, many of whom pray for liberation from the cycle of birth — an aspiration I find hard to comprehend. It seems there is great importance placed on the belief that not being born again is preferable. Yet, I observe how some pass away under government arrangements that privilege the Very Important Persons (VIPs) — politicians and the wealthy who are connected to power.
At Kumbh, you witness the spectacle of mentally ill Babas engaging in bizarre dances and unusual acts to solicit money. There are married men and women, with children, seeking advice from a Baba who has neither marriage nor children, a paradox of reliance. Many seem to approach these figures out of fear, hoping for blessings that might bring them business success, often without questioning the integrity of their supposed guides.
Despite the presence of these aberrations, what captivates me is the sense of community among those gathered. People come together, sharing conversations for hours and days, momentarily shedding the burdens of material possessions. They dip in the sacred waters and wander about without grand schemes, embracing a pilgrimage centered on the hope of liberation from rebirth.
I have faced many struggles in my own life, and though I’ve never married, I believe life is worth living. If I were to have another birth, I would seek to fulfill experiences I missed this time — perhaps marrying five times, or spending time with a hundred women — embracing what life offers to its fullest.
The strange city I visited is Varanasi, where I felt completely out of place, a stranger to the intricate grammar of its ancient streets. Narrow lanes twist unexpectedly, lined with temples wedged between houses that, in some cases, resemble rat holes. I often wonder how people manage to live in those dimly lit spaces for ages. The city is far from clean, yet people are everywhere, bustling about continuously as if it is growing increasingly distant from modern civilization.
Children can be seen working by the ghats and within temple premises, performing rituals on the bodies of the deceased and selling various items on the streets. I ponder what the youth think of this life. Perhaps they dream of escaping to a city built on different values. When I was in my town, I always believed I should seek a better place to live, and the same sentiment arose in Allahabad; I still feel that I cannot call it home.
The unfamiliarity of the culture, norms, and unusual activities around the ghats create an atmosphere that feels almost otherworldly. It seems improbable that such a city should exist in the 21st century, where discussions revolve around artificial intelligence rather than rebirth. In many developed nations, the relevance of God has diminished, becoming a ceremonial aspect rather than a serious part of daily life. Yet in India, faith still deeply influences people’s actions.
Today, political forces often seek to connect with the populace through religion, promoting films that glorify an Indian past that may not accurately reflect historical realities. Music and dance remain among the few cultural expressions uniquely intricate to India, while other aspects of our society sometimes fall short of pride. Our surroundings often remain dirty, comparable to poorer countries. People still relieve themselves on the streets, and unhealthy food — such as sugar and oily snacks — continues to be sold freely.
While I do not believe in God, I have a deep faith in people. One aspect of Indian culture that captivates me is the collective activity found in temples. I adore being part of communal prayers or collective singing; there’s something truly beautiful about these shared experiences. It is an art form that transcends individual belief, weaving a tapestry of unity and connection among people.
India should cherish and preserve this vibrant tradition. The spirit of togetherness that emerges during these moments is invaluable, fostering a sense of community and belonging that enriches our lives. It is through the collective expression of devotion and connection that we find meaning and joy, irrespective of personal beliefs.
