Varanasi (India), is the oldest n was the grandest city on the Earth

This is an ancient story. They say that the city where this story is set was the first city of the world, that it was birthed before time began to be calculated as time. Maybe it is myth of Varanasi being the centre of the earth, of it being the oldest, once the grandest city in the world.

It must have been day three or four into our stay at the Ganapati Guest House, with its bright walls and sweet smells from various sized cigarettes on the balcony. Large mesh windows opened out to a swollen Ganga from three sides of our room. We would hear urgent whispers that the guest house used to be a house for dying widows who would be made to sing the names of gods all day. They said the wails of the fated women could still be heard from the walls at night, if you listened carefully.

One evening on the balcony where fleeting friendships that never lasted were always being made, we met J, South Korean by birth, American by citizenship, visibly overwhelmed in the event of being a first time-in-India traveller. The three of us girls got talking and quickly bonded over Asian mothers, pressures of family and the usual traveller talk.

J wanted to go to the Blue Lassi the next morning, after we found our way into and out of a 150-year-old Nepali temple. Along the way she tells us that this shop is very popular among South Korean tourists to Varanasi, which takes me by surprise, not so much for its popularity, for every city has its must-gos that travellers pass on to all and countrymen, like a favourite secret. I am curious because we have not seen many Asian tourists; most that are chased by boys wanting money and youths offering good 'bhang' are Western.

We follow a path that will take us to Dashashwamedh Ghat, where the river Ganga, Lord Shiva, Surya and fire are worshipped. At the turn of a corner is the bright blue walled Blue Lassi. There are a bunch of young South Korean girls inside, typing furiously into their phones and giggling. There are dozens of photos stuck carefully on the walls of more tourists from that country, notes with hearts around them, caricatures, smiling, happy faces.

Blue Lassi dispels the myth about the simplicity of a glass of lassi being curd whipped with sugar or salt or both. There are innumerable flavours, some sounding very odd, like coconut, banana and others that have no business mixing with a good cup of curd. But defying all known principles of taste and fusion, each flavour debates with the other to emerge utterly unique and delicious. I cannot remember now what we ordered. It tasted fantastic though, propped and prettied in a clay matka. I remember sipping on our drinks and watching people passing by with corpses to the burning ghats, where legend has it that Shiva himself lights the pyre. It is a common sight in Varanasi, a city where unusualness is normal, even boring.

Blue Lassi is three generations of owners old, started in the 1920s. Rather new and shining, by the city's standard.