The first time I walked along Assi Ghat with my classmates was rejuvenating. After spending seven exhausting days in New Delhi, constantly on the go, the ghats of Varanasi were serene and peaceful. With my roommate, Audrey, and my new close friend, Sam, alongside me, I walked down tan steps towards the haze covered river and a wonderful aroma of roasted peanuts cut through the musty river smell. We stepped through the fog until the river bed came into view below us. To the left, small groups of people- teenagers, families, travellers- sat on the steps, laughing and talking and watching what I believed to be the source of the curious music and chanting.

The source wasn’t really music at all, but more of a chanting with drums and cymbals emanating from a small speaker. Six men dressed in white stood on platforms, holding bronze instruments with small flames dotting the tips, moving in unison. A few others from our travel group were sitting on the dangerously steep steps. We joined them, smiling stupidly at each other, high on the fumes of wood smoke and the musky smell of the Ganges.

An older man with a glorious white, pointed beard walked through the steps, handing out 2–3 pink and orange marigolds to each person watching the ceremony, including us smiley tourists. Unsure of what to do with them, I kept a closer eye on the natives, and copied what they did. When they got up, there were a few moments of silence and then they moved towards the river. We followed them down the steep steps that seemed to drop off the face of the Earth (I was actually afraid of falling to my death) and up against the railing. Hands enclosed the marigolds, eyes closed, and a soft mumbling emitted from many of those who knew what they were doing. Once they were done with their prayer, they pushed their hands open and let the flowers drift down to rest upon the face of the Ganges. We followed suit in a prayer, and then tossed our marigolds into the river below.

Varanasi, Benares, Kashi, or whatever name you choose to call it, is thought by some to be older than history itself. It is the place along the Ganges where a pillar of endless light is said to have shone through the ground and Lord Shiva, the supreme light, emerged.

I came to Varanasi for a Buddha-esque spiritual journey disguised as study abroad trip about modernity and what makes a modern society. There is no better place to find yourself than the city whose name literally translates to “where the supreme light shines”. Here, I would get to view the place where the Buddha first preached. Here was where I would have my own small-scale Enlightenment.

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always been attracted to the Buddha. My mother would travel back and forth to China for work, and she would always bring me little maroon statues of a sitting round man with a huge smile and elongated earlobes. “Rubbing the Buddha’s belly will bring you luck, prosperity, and lifelong happiness,” she would tell me. His never ending smile was infectious.

When I was older, I read Herman Hesse’s Siddhartha and was completely enamored. A young man who is unfulfilled by a lush life leaves everything to go on a journey, renounces comfort and desire behind and embarks on a soul searching adventure. I was deeply moved by the focus on the practice of meditation to release oneself from suffering, rather than a deity.

Naturally, when I found out about the study abroad trip to India, my interest was peaked. Even though I had grown up with the cute and chubby Chinese Buddha, India was the place where Buddhism has its roots. Sarnath would be on the agenda; an important pilgrimage location for Buddhist monks. It was here the Buddha Gautama gave his first sermon. It was here that his words started a spiritual revolution. I needed to go.

With my affinity for the Buddha, it was only natural that my assigned room at the Hotel Ganges View was what I called the “Buddha Room”. The bed was decorated in a pale yellow, dark blue, and forest green floral bedspread, and decorative pillows of that same green dotted with gold. The headboard was a brilliant wooden arch, with a central stone shrine, a mini Buddha talisman nestled inside. Surrounding the shrine was an array of painted leaves and bright pink lotus flowers, a symbol of Bodh Gaya- the place where the Buddha Gautama reached Enlightenment. Two peacocks sat facing each other on top of the shrine, entwined amongst the greenery.

The next day we traveled through the narrow streets of the Old City. The uneven dirt and stone streets were dotted with numerous shops, tea houses and temples. On just about every corner was a shrine of a Hindu god or goddess. A red Ganesh sat in a golden shrine, an orange Shiva sat within a red shrine, even the goddess Kali had her own intricate temple to encase her black and red face.

Varanasi itself was beautiful. The Ganges was beautiful, the neverending fog and gloom was beautiful, the happiness and holiness of the city was electrifying. It was so intense for me that my body rebelled.

On the second night in Varanasi, after touring the narrow streets, and watching the burning ceremony from a boat on the Ganges, I started to feel ill. It started as a simple scratch in my throat; I just thought it was an effect of the constant dust, ash, and wood smoke blackening my lungs.

But then my head started to feel like it was expanding, becoming heavier and heavier, my brain pushing against my skull until it felt like it was going to burst. I just thought it was because my mind was so overstimulated by the history; a religious hub with dilapidated, intricate temples every other block and miniature shrines of various Hindu gods spread throughout the streets decorated with marigolds, and red and gold fabrics.

Soon after, my sinuses expanded to the bursting point. My nose became congested from the various exotic smells India has to offer: the incense and oils from shrines, various street food vendors, fecal matter from cows, goats, dogs, or even humans, all mixed with the unmistakable mustiness of the river Ganga. My eyes swelled and grew heavy from a blinding rainbow of silk saris, and pashminas, sparkling jewelry, and brightly colored murals decorating the walls of the city.

That night I could barely sleep. No matter how tired I was, I just couldn’t get comfortable on the boardlike bed underneath gritty sheets because my body ached all over. The pain kept getting worse throughout the night and into the morning when I was roused from a heavy lidded doze by the maniacal laughter of a woman- I thought it was the goddess Kali come to drag me to the depths of the underworld. Getting dressed was actually painful. My whole body felt like a giant bruise, and even the soft fabrics brushing against my skin caused my teeth to grit.

This couldn’t be happening to me.

At the 8AM breakfast I drank some tea, hoping to ease my burning throat and release some of the pressure from my head. I slowly ate a banana to get something in my stomach while also providing some source of vitamins in addition to the vitamins and zinc that Audrey insisted I take. The sandpaper covered razor blades in my throat prevented me from talking to my friends. Shortly after consuming my banana, I started to feel a little nauseous, which was the complete opposite of what the banana was intended to provide. I was told a doctor was coming soon if anyone wanted to see him — I decided that I would have to see the doctor in order to make it to Sarnath. I was not going to miss this day. I would rather die than miss the day trip to Sarnath.

Unfortunately, my silly retort came true and my body turned on me, diving headfirst into the sickness whirlpool and before the doctor arrived, my nausea peaked. By 9AM I couldn’t stand or even sit up without my vision and my stomach twirling. I ran to the bathroom, collapsing on the floor with sudden stomach pains so excruciating they paralyzed me. I stayed on the cold, grey tile floor, unsure if I was going to be sick, but hoping I could be so I could expel whatever demon was ripping up my intestines. Tears overwhelmed me and my heart plummeted as I realized I wouldn’t be able to make it to Sarnath. Of course this would happen to me on the most important day of the trip. Why was the universe so against me? What did I do to deserve this horrible karma?

Completely broken and miserable, I just wanted to lay down in bed. I dragged the little bathroom trash bucket and crawled out of the bathroom, somehow making it to the bed. The stomach pains had subsided only to come back just as crippling as before. A blue skinned Lord Shiva himself had come to me in a delirious, illness induced dream state, destroying the body that I had known for twenty-two years. The nausea was now overwhelming and I clutched my bucket, the essence of my being filling the basin. Sitting in bed was too much now, and I rolled off the bed onto the floor, heaving over the bucket. My whole body tremored with chills, but my face and neck were slippery with sweat. It dropped into my ears and mouth and I tried to call out to Audrey, my incarnation of Lord Dhanvantari, the god of healing, as another wave of pain and heaving crashed over me.

I cried harder than I have in as long as I can remember. I thought I needed to go to the hospital, something was seriously wrong with me. I felt like I was seconds away from being completely destroyed, and I wanted the pain to go away. Sitting on the floor, in mind boggling agony, crying out for my mother, I thought that this is the definition of a death rattle. How many stories have I heard, how many shows have I seen where in the final moments before death, the victim lays there, crying out for their mother? At least dying in Varanasi meant certain Enlightenment.

After my insides revolted a few more times, the worst of it was over; I was able to lay in bed more comfortably. Once the inside of my body was destroyed and the demon inside was expelled, the body aches were almost completely gone and the only pain I felt was the stomach cramps that came and went, each causing me to elicit a gasp and my body to go rigid until it passed.

From here, I don’t remember much. The demon inside my intestines was destroyed by my blue faced Shiva. Unfortunately he destroyed the rest of my body in the process, leaving me exhausted. I vaguely remember one of my professors, Michele, preserving my body like Vishnu preserves the world until my body was regenerated by the doctor. I don’t recall the doctor arriving, but suddenly there was a new presence and I was asked to turn on my stomach, exposing my behind for two very painful shots that would ease the stomach cramps and end my suffering. I cried out as he pushed the medicine into my muscles, the second one being worse because my muscles clenched in protest. Our tour guide Surekha had sprouted two extra heads and extra limbs, closely resembling Brahma, and the many hands and countless fingers massaged life back into my being through my buttcheeks. I slipped into an easy sleep, the rock hard bed feeling like the fluffiest pillow amongst the heavens.

When I woke up a mere hour later, the world was a different color. The green floral bedspread was like an Indian Garden of Eden. The bronze plated headboard decorated with vines and leaves was my personal Bodh Gaya. It was only fitting that a little statue of the Buddha sat nestled inside the carved out leaves, in a seated lotus position, one hand resting on top of the other in the dhyanamudra position, eyes closed in meditation.

I got up, carefully placing my feet on the floor, testing the strength of my new body. My head no longer felt like it was pushed to maximum limits, and my senses were renewed. I could smell the eucalyptus and lavender oils from my diffuser, hear the chants and clatter from the street outside. I took a few sips of bottled water, letting the liquid soak into my desert dry mouth before swallowing.

A rare ray of sunshine streamed in through the window; the first day of sun and clear skies since my arrival in Varanasi. I heard laughter coming up the winding stairs from the lower level of the Hotel Ganges View, my classmates returning from lunch.

I was greeted with surprised “You’re up!”s and “How are you feeling?” by my friends and classmates. I beamed back at them, still a little uneasy, but well enough to walk and talk.

By noon, I decided I was going to go to Sarnath.

When I walked downstairs to meet the rest of the crew that was going, Sam turned around, and her eyes bulged when she saw me.

“Oh my god how are you? Are you coming?” Her exuberance, while much appreciated and heartwarming, was still too much for me to handle. I simply nodded in response.

I dozed the whole ride to Sarnath. The sun was pretty bright now, and it beat down on my shaky body, making me weary. I hadn’t had anything to eat since that morning. When we stepped off the bus into the too-bright sunlight and too-warm air, I asked Audrey if she could get me a bottle of Sprite.

“Of course, no problem,” she said. About a minute later she returned and handed me the bottle.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked. Her eyebrows were scrunched together in a familiar worrisome way.

I nodded, and gave her the best smile I could. “I will be, I just need a little something in me right now.”

We waited around while the professors purchased tickets. I should be buzzing with excitement, but I could barely hold my body upright. Walking towards the gate and onto holy ground, I fought with all my might to keep my eyes from closing completely.

Once inside the grassy grounds of Sarnath, I was relieved to sit down. Our guide explained a shortened version of the Buddha’s life once we arrived in Sarnath. He droned on for what seemed like hours. Sitting in the grass under the beating sun on the holy grounds of Sarnath, I couldn’t keep my head up. I was so weary from the sickness that morning. Had it only been a few hours ago that I was on my deathbed? It seemed like ages ago.

Once the guide finished his incomprehensible drawl, we were left to roam the grounds. I got up uneasily, moving slowly through the tattered and broken stupas- shrines dedicated to the Buddha. I had to admit, I was disappointed. I expected to feel the electricity I had felt back at Assi Ghat, but here I felt… tired. Tired and uneasy, and if I stayed standing for too long I might have another episode of sickness. After taking three pictures, I bid my friends farewell and went back to nap on the bus.

In an eight hour time period, I became sick enough to get shots in the butt, and became well enough to still travel to Sarnath with my classmates. This one day felt like an entire week! Needless to say, Enlightenment was not in the cards for me today. The Buddha went through the cycle of Samsara hundreds of times. I think I can go through one more. But for now, I just want to nap.