With my film camera in hand, I strolled along the ghats in Varanasi at the break of dawn, capturing the timeless energy of this sacred city. The air was clean, faintly smelling of incense and the smoke of burning oil lamps. Reflecting off the rippling Ganges, the first light of day illuminated the heavens in pink and gold.

At the ghats, pilgrims entered the holy river with folded hands and silently dedicated themselves, whispering prayers that had been chanted here for hundreds of years. Cold and serene, the water embraced them as they sank and returned, feeling rejuvenated. My canvases were calm, focused, spiritual faces; each told a tale of faith, hope, and surrender.

Varanasi is the core of Hindu spirituality. Hindus hold that dying here, or having one’s ashes buried in the Ganges, marks moksha—that is, release from the cycle of life and death. Funeral pyres burnt continually along the ghats, their flames linking the earthly and the holy. Gathering to carry out last rites, families yelled prayers before sending the ashes of their loved ones into the hallowed rivers. It was a somewhat poignant sight, a reminder of the fleeting character of existence and the continuous flow of faith.

On my first trip to India in 1996, I visited Varanasi. I recently found photos of my journey. Grainy and flawed, these earliest pictures captured something digital photography could never capture—the warmth of recollection and the moment’s rawness. The individuals I met grinned when I showed them those pictures, knowing their city had an absolute character.

Though they were constantly moving, the ghats radiated a calm silence. Sitting cross-legged, priests yelled mantras whose voices blended with the far-off ringing of temple bells. Draped in saffron robes, sadhus meditated with an ethereal calm, seeming unconcerned by time. Varanasi’s beauty sprang from its pulsing life and death, not only from its ancient buildings or the golden glow of its temples.

As the sun rose, the mist over the river rose, exposing boats drifting gently across it. I was on one, staring at the city’s reflection in the holy river and experiencing extreme tranquility. Varanasi was an experience, a gateway to something everlasting, not only a place.

And framing the Ganges in the beautiful morning light, I knew I would return—just as time continuously cycles around in this city that never ages, only deepens—one last picture.

Namaste!

Author and photo credit: Cristy
NOTE: All photos were taken on a Canon A2 with Kodachrome and Fuji Sensia slide film.