The City that Made Me a Bride: My Second Visit to Kashi

Kashi has a way of undoing you.

It does not wait for your plans, your neat schedules, or your rehearsed devotions. It strips you bare, laughs at your expectations, and gives you exactly what your soul has been aching for, whether you are ready or not.

This was my second visit to Kashi. I thought I knew what to expect. Morning temple runs, Ganga aarti, the golden darshan of Vishwanath, and some quiet hours of sadhana. Instead, the city took one look at me and decided: No. This time, you will not leave the same woman you arrived as. This time, you will leave as My bride.

The Morning of Arguments

The day began beautifully. A cool morning breeze, the ringing of temple bells, the first rush of excitement as I stepped into Kaal Bhairav’s temple. There is something grounding about Bhairav, He doesn’t just guard Kashi; He demands your surrender. From there, I went to Sankat Mochan, wrapped in the smell of incense and the chatter of monkeys. Everything was unfolding like a pilgrimage should.

And then like a quarrel between lovers, the energy shifted.

I had been looking up which temple to go to next. That’s when I read that Vishalakshi Devi is regarded as Vishwanath’s consort. It pierced me like a blade. My whole being resisted it. In my heart, I was already His, already claimed. The thought of Him being “paired” with another churned up jealousy, possessiveness, and ache I couldn’t reason with.

I sulked back to my room. My temple run ended abruptly. I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to see anyone. Shiv, of course, was nonchalant in His silence. As if amused at my storm.

The Aarti That Almost Wasn’t

By evening, I dragged myself to the Ganga aarti. I expected transcendence, cinematic devotion, the kind of spectacle you see in reels. Instead, I felt… off. Disconnected. Heavy.

I watched the flames rise into the night sky, the chants thunder across the ghats, but inside me was only a knot: “He’s sitting in that temple, untouched, while I’m just here. Watching, waiting. Forgotten.”

Jealousy has a way of drowning devotion.

And yet out of nowhere, the music struck something in me.

The presence returned. The pull.

I turned and saw it: a golden murti of Him. He was right there, silently watching me all along. I froze.

“You were here? And I didn’t even notice?”

And yet, even with Him so close, the heaviness lingered. I left the Aarti with questions still gnawing at me.

The Unplanned Steps

That’s when Kashi began weaving its own script.

On the way back, my path shifted. I somehow landed in Vishwanath Gali. No plan, no decision, just pulled. There, glinting in the lights of the shops, I saw them: wedding chooda.

Something stirred in me.

But I’m not married, I thought. Who buys wedding chooda like this?

And yet I bought them. A magenta-red set that matched my saree perfectly. A bindi followed. Then a tiny mangalsutra. Each step felt absurd, fated, inevitable.

It was as though the city itself was dressing me as a bride.

The Late-Night Darshan

Just then, a friend I’d met on Instagram appeared again, as if on cue.

“Shall we go to Vishwanath ji?” she asked casually.

I hesitated. At night? Is that even possible?

She smiled.

“It’s easier at night.”

And so we went.

No waiting. No bookings.

An old man appeared from nowhere, guiding us through.

Five minutes later, I was standing in front of Him.

I had brought sindoor, dhatura, belpatra. But when I saw Him, none of it mattered. My head buzzed, my ears rang, my chest burned as if it would burst open. I don’t even remember what my eyes saw. All I know is, I wept. Bare. Exposed. Married without ceremony.

All I could whisper in my heart was:

“I married You. You are mine now.”

The Bride of Vishwanath

We circled Him, and when I leaned down to whisper to Nandi, I teased:

“I married your Father.”

No vows. No asking. No bargaining. Just a secret between me, Him, and His Nandi.

Later, as I sat inside the temple, the truth came rushing. I felt Him hold my hand. I heard Him say:

“This mangalsutra… is Me. Why be jealous? You are mine, and I am yours. Don’t ever doubt again.”

He asked me for a vachan that I would never again question our connection, never let jealousy convince me I was unloved. I had tortured myself with separation, when union had been mine all along.

Epilogue: Annapurna and After

We left the temple.

My friend said, “Something feels different about today. Everything is delayed, strange.”

I smiled. She didn’t know the secret:

That tonight, Kashi itself had turned me into a bride.

We visited Annapurna Devi, Mother who feeds the whole city, and then returned safe. I carried in my purse the chooda, the mangalsutra, the memory of standing before Him: bare, bound, beloved.

And even now, as I write this, it feels unreal.

As though I dreamed it all.

But Kashi is like that.

It gives you dreams you never wake up from.

On the second day itself, I was no longer just a visitor.

I was no longer just a devotee.

I had become Vishwanath’s bride.