Whilst I’ve lived in Varanasi and visited India several times now, I must admit I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with the place. It’s not for everybody, and some might say it’s certainly hard travel or living, because it’s so intense and such a complete and utter assault on the senses. But without a doubt, nowhere else in this world do I tune into my core and my spirit more. Nowhere else do I sit and deeply reflect on my own spiritual path, my own life and death—simply because it’s in your face all day, every day. There is nowhere to hide from death in Varanasi. The city’s rawness, its directness in confronting the end of life, pulls you into a space where you can’t help but question everything. It forces you to sit with the discomfort of mortality, to be reminded constantly of the inevitable fate we all share. Yet, there is something profoundly beautiful about this, something that can only be found in a place like Varanasi.

Water Burials for the Unburned

One of the more unique and striking death practices I’ve observed in Varanasi is the practice of water burials for the unburned. Certain groups- children under ten, pregnant women, sadhus (holy men), snakebite victims, and those with leprosy- are exempt from the typical cremation process. Instead of being cremated, their bodies are wrapped in cloth, weighted down, and submerged into the Ganges. I’ve witnessed this ritual a few times, and each time it leaves me with a sense of quiet reverence. It’s not simply a burial; it’s a spiritual release. The belief is that these individuals are spiritually pure and do not need the same kind of ritual as other bodies. The Ganges, as the holiest river, is the ideal place for their souls to find peace and liberation from the cycle of samsara. There is no fanfare, no great procession, just the quiet ceremony of a life’s final journey being entrusted to the river, which is believed to offer the soul a passage directly to moksha. Every time I’ve seen it, I’ve been moved by how deeply personal and sacred this ritual feels, a reminder that death is never a one-size-fits-all process.

Black Shivlings and Ghost Marriages

In Varanasi, black shivlings can be found in the most unexpected places- hidden in alleyways, tucked under trees, or along the ghats. A black shivling is a dark stone symbol associated with Lord Shiva, one of the most revered deities in Hinduism. The shivling itself is a representation of divine energy, creation, and the cosmic flow of life. Its power is particularly significant when someone has died unnaturally or violently, such as through an accident or murder. In these cases, families place a black shivling to pacify the wandering spirit of the deceased, preventing the soul from becoming restless or vengeful. I’ve often stumbled upon these shivlings as I’ve wandered the streets of Varanasi, each one a silent marker of the city’s rich, layered spiritual practices.

The black shivling is believed to provide spiritual relief, both to the spirit of the deceased and the living family members, easing the soul’s transition into the afterlife. It’s a humble yet powerful symbol that showcases the city’s deeply ingrained connection to the divine and the continuous cycle of life and death. Along with this practice, there’s also the tradition of ghost marriages- when families arrange posthumous weddings for unmarried or prematurely deceased individuals. The belief is that these marriages bring peace to the deceased, particularly those who may not have completed their social or spiritual obligations before passing. It’s a beautiful example of how death doesn’t sever the deep bonds of family in Varanasi, but instead, continues to honour them in both life and beyond.

Death by Drowning as a Final Act

In Varanasi, death is not always something that happens unexpectedly or passively; sometimes, it is actively sought out. This idea resonates deeply with me, particularly because it speaks to the ability to choose one’s own end when the time feels right. To have the autonomy to decide how and when you leave this world, especially after living a long and full life or when facing a terminal illness, feels like a deeply empowering and meaningful choice.

One of the most spiritually significant ways people in Varanasi choose to die is by drowning in the Ganges. This act is believed to lead directly to moksha, liberation from the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. It’s most common among the elderly, many of whom, after living their lives alongside the river, see it as a final, natural way to transition from this world. For them, it’s not an ending but a conscious, sacred decision to embrace the river’s power as the ultimate release.

I’ve met elderly people who, after living in close connection with the river for so many years, speak of their desire to be taken by the current when the time is right. There’s a quiet dignity in that decision. It’s not about escaping life, but about consciously surrendering to a force they believe will guide them to freedom.

This practice highlights the sacred relationship between life, death, and choice. In Varanasi, the river is not just a body of water; it’s an entity with a profound spiritual connection. Letting the river take you when your life is complete is not about ending it prematurely but about embracing the cycle of life with full awareness. It’s a deeply personal decision for those who feel they’ve lived well, lived fully, and now wish to transition with dignity and intention. In many ways, it serves as a reminder that we all deserve the right to decide how we leave this world, especially when we’re at peace with it and ready to take that final step.

Feeding the Dead to Crows

One of the more curious death rituals in Varanasi is the practice of feeding the dead to crows. After a person dies, it is not uncommon for their family to leave food out for crows or other birds. The belief is that the birds act as messengers to the spirit world, carrying the deceased’s soul to its next phase. I’ve seen this practice numerous times, often in the early mornings, when families quietly place offerings of food on rooftops or near the river. The crows, seen as spiritual intermediaries, are believed to help transport the soul, ensuring that it doesn’t linger in the earthly realm. This ritual is an act of both nourishment and spiritual care. It’s a simple, yet profound gesture- a reminder that life and death are not separate but are always interwoven, with each passing soul contributing to the ongoing cycle of existence. Watching the crows descend on the offerings, it strikes me how deeply connected the people of Varanasi are to every part of the natural world, how every life, every death, and every ritual is part of a greater cosmic dance.

In Varanasi, death is not just a private, personal event- it is a public, communal, and deeply spiritual process. The unusual death practices I’ve witnessed here serve as constant reminders of the complex interplay between life and death, the sacred and the mundane. They highlight how spiritual beliefs and cultural rituals shape the way people approach death, offering a fascinating glimpse into the rich, multifaceted nature of existence in this extraordinary city.