Varanasi is a city that vibrates with the pulse of life and death, a place where the very air feels thick with spirituality. The streets are a sensory overload: the rhythmic hum of Hindu prayers echoing from every corner, blending with the rhythmic sounds of bells, conch shells, and the soft chanting that never ceases. Narrow alleys are lined with shrines, temples, and offerings, each one dedicated to a different god or goddess, their faces painted in vivid colours, gazing down with silent blessing. The aroma of incense and burning ghee lingers in the air, mingling with the smoky haze rising from the cremation ghats. As the sun rises over the Ganges, its golden light reflects off the river, illuminating the walls adorned with images of deities. Varanasi doesn’t just tell the stories of Hinduism, it lives and breathes it, in every moment, in every prayer, and in the very stones beneath your feet.

Hinduism and the Afterlife

Hinduism teaches that the soul, or Atman, is eternal and divine, while the body is just a temporary vessel. I saw this firsthand in the way people approached death. There was a peaceful acceptance in the air, as though death was simply a natural transition, part of a larger cosmic cycle. I remember walking along the banks of the Ganges and seeing families gathering for cremation ceremonies. The solemnity of it all contrasted with the vibrancy of life in the city. People believe that when a person dies, their soul moves on to a new form, continuing its journey through reincarnation, shaped by the karma of their actions. The idea that dying in Varanasi and having your ashes immersed in the Ganges could free the soul from the cycle of rebirth was something I felt in the air as I watched the funeral rituals along the river.

Reincarnation and Samsara: The Endless Cycle

Samsara—the cycle of birth, death, and rebirth—was something I felt present in every corner of the city. The soul is thought to be endlessly reincarnated, influenced by karma—the energy created by one’s actions. Watching families perform rituals along the river, I was reminded that death is part of this greater, sacred cycle. The Ghats, where people come to grieve or celebrate the transition of loved ones, are steeped in the belief that life and death are intertwined aspects of existence. There is no finality in death; it is simply a part of an ongoing process of spiritual growth and purification. I find peace in this idea. What stood out to me was the way the people of Varanasi embrace the idea of liberation, or moksha. Dying in this city is believed to purify the soul, helping it break free from samsara. The energy of Varanasi, its sacred ghats, and the chanting of mantras by families felt like a direct link to this belief, a living testament to the goal of liberation. The belief that one could achieve freedom from samsara by dying in such a spiritually charged place made the very air feel thick with sacredness. I could sense that here, death is a crucial step on the soul’s journey and embraced.

Moksha: The Ultimate Goal of Liberation

For many Hindus, moksha is the ultimate aim—the freedom from samsara and the return to the divine. In Varanasi, this goal takes on an even deeper meaning. I saw firsthand how people believe that dying here and having their ashes scattered in the Ganges is the ultimate release from the cycle of rebirth. I watched as the families, with quiet dignity, prepared the body for cremation. The ritual was intimate, full of respect for the deceased and the process of liberation they were undergoing. The Ganges, with its sacred waters, is thought to wash away the sins of countless lifetimes. As I stood on the banks of the river, watching the cremation fires burn at the ghats, it became clear how deeply the people believe in this power of purification. The flames seemed almost like a metaphor for the soul’s liberation—rising from the ashes, free from the bonds of samsara. The city draws pilgrims from across India and beyond, all hoping that by connecting with its spiritual energy, they too might achieve liberation. The belief that moksha can be attained through the sacred rituals performed in this city highlighted the spiritual significance of Varanasi—a place where time feels both eternal and fleeting, where death is a gateway to something greater.

Death and the Soul’s Journey: Rituals and Ceremonies

The funeral rituals in Varanasi are designed to guide the soul through its next phase. I’ve had the privilege of seeing the careful preparations of bodies, the chants, and the lighting of funeral pyres at the ghats. The rituals are carried out with such dignity, yet there’s a warmth in the air that connects both the living and the dead. Families gather around their loved ones, offering prayers, singing mantras, and performing rites passed down through generations. These ceremonies aren’t just for the deceased—they’re for the living too, helping them release their attachment and pray for the safe passage of the soul. The air is thick with the sound of bells ringing, and the smell of incense wafts from the temples. The rhythm of life and death in Varanasi is a constant reminder of the sacred flow that binds the two.

One ritual that I always make sure to attend, each time I visit Varanasi, is the Aarti ceremony. Over the years, it has become an essential part of my experience in the city. I look forward to it, knowing that the ceremony represents the worship of the divine and celebrates of the eternal connection between life and death. I typically arrive at the ghats either early in the morning, before the sun has risen, or in the evening as the sun is setting. Each time, the experience feels fresh, with the light adding its own magic to the scene. As the sun dips below the horizon, the air fills with the scent of incense, flowers, and the earthy aroma of the Ganges. A group of priests, their faces serene and focused, begin their ritual, holding large brass lamps with flames that flicker in the evening breeze. The sound of bells, drums, and chanting fills the air, merging with the soft rippling of the river’s waves. The priests’ movements are synchronised and rhythmic, each gesture steeped in centuries of tradition.

The Aarti ceremony itself has a long history that traces back thousands of years, originating as a form of ritual worship for deities in Hindu temples. The word ‘Aarti’ comes from the Sanskrit term ‘Aratrika,’ which means the removal of darkness, symbolising the dispelling of ignorance and the illumination of the divine. Traditionally, Aarti is performed with the offering of light, usually in the form of oil lamps or candles, and is accompanied by the chanting of sacred hymns or mantras. In Varanasi, the ceremony is performed daily at the ghats, most notably at Dashashwamedh Ghat, where it has become an integral part of the city's spiritual life. Over time, it has evolved into a grand spectacle, bringing together both locals and pilgrims in a shared act of devotion.

What I love most about the Aarti ceremony is how it makes me feel connected to something timeless. The energy in the air is almost tangible, and there’s a sense of peace that washes over me as the flames flicker and the incense smoke swirls upwards. The chanting resonates deeply within me, as if I can feel the vibrations of each word. The river’s surface reflects the flames, turning the water into a living mirror of devotion. It’s a beautiful reminder of the sacredness of life and the transient nature of death. Each time I attend the ceremony, I’m reminded of the harmony between the divine and the earthly, the seen and the unseen, the living and the departed. For me, the ceremony is a moment of spiritual renewal, a pause where time feels suspended, and the energy of the Ganges seems to carry away all of the noise of the outside world.

Over the years, the Aarti ceremony has become a ritual I look forward to with a sense of joy and respect. It’s not just the sight of the flickering flames or the sound of the mantras—it’s the feeling that something sacred is happening in that very moment, something that transcends words. The experience is one that ties me to Varanasi, to the cycles of life and death, and to the deeper truths that the city brings to the surface each time I visit.

In Varanasi, death is part of a larger journey, a sacred process that moves toward liberation. The rituals, the prayers, the energy of the city—it all points to the idea that the soul’s journey doesn’t end with death, but transforms, guiding it closer to moksha. Through these practices, Varanasi embodies the Hindu belief in life, death, and rebirth in a way I’ve never experienced anywhere else. The city is a living, breathing testament to the eternal cycles of existence, a place where the spirit is honoured and its journey toward liberation is nurtured.