Spiritual Frequency

If Varanasi were a temple, Mama Ganga would be the guru and the sunrise would be her dharshan.

As the sky gets lighter, vibrations get faster. A pink and yellow ball rises over the haze of the river. From the outside it would seem that I’m in suspended animation - paused in meditation. But it’s only the magnetic pull of the sight before me that holds my gaze. Internally, I’m in a frenzy. The colours cascade from the willful hand of the sun onto city. The Ganga’s waters flow golden and the warm tones saturate every scene. This paints a pink hue of movement across the coolness of the dawn.

Chanting, singing and choruses of mantra pull the sun further into the sky while waking city into full commotion. Giant bells are ringing is incessantly; drums beat a rhythm, pounding hard. I feel like they are beating me into consciousness. My head bobs in unison with my chest. Here, the holy music that welcomes the day isn’t made for any choral ensemble I’ve ever heard in church. It’s not like any mosque’s solemn call to prayer. It conjures something tribal and raw, a familiar rhythm, like an awakening of your true self.

The reverberation between the heaven and earth has never been more apparent. The connection of everything internal and everything transcendental seems amplified at this waking hour.

Varanasi’s first rush overwhelmed me with its unbridled life force in the people and the unabashed living conditions of everyone. But the intensity soon wore off leaving an ‘aroma of spirituality’ in the air, that you can’t help but inhale deeply into your lungs.

People from all over the world come to India for a spiritual awakening, searching for themselves or trying to develop an understanding of ‘meaning and purpose’. They visit sacred sites and temples, speak with sadhus, visit ashrams and embrace foreign blessing rituals believing that this will bring them closer to attaining the feeling of oneness with all things. The people of this city aren’t following any ashram timetable for meditation, prayer and yoga. These are as much a part of daily life as reading the newspaper or a morning chai. Whether there are speakers and lights at the main ghat or not, the intricate daily puja ritual from 7 to 8pm will still go on. The man who sings alone to idols of Hanuman and Shiva at a small shrine nested in one of the more quiet ghats does not need an audience. He’s singing for the gods. External recognition or validation isn’t necessary for him.

As the sun rises over the city and your body is submerged into the heat, life across the ghats is in full swing. Making my way through the daily chaotic activity, I see peace and purpose in every walk of life.

This is a city that bares its soul. It’s place that gets you and I can see why it’s a magnet for spiritual pilgrims, artists and the culture curious. Varanasi inspires. Like mirror reflecting thoughts and questions about life and beyond, the city and its people feed and force a reaction from within.