Clad in a steel-grey cotton langot, the teenage Karan takes coconut oil in his palms, rubs them together, and slaps it noisily onto his flexed biceps, making them glisten against the rays of the rising sun. He then reverently bows before his opponent, Dhaniya, and the tussle begins. The match is just another dawn training session of kushti or pehelwani, held at the Tulsi Akhada, one of the oldest akhadas in Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh.
A morning visit to an akhada is one of many ways to experience timeless Varanasi. One could also go with the crowds and head to Assi Ghat. A legend states that assi asuras (80 demons) were slain here—for the Ganga aarti. As the sun rises, men in saffron hold up multi-tiered diyas to the Ganga. Bells clink rhythmically, handfuls of vermillion are released into the air while mantras are chanted by pandits to create an atmosphere that is serene, yet festive. Or opt for a pet pooja in Thatheri Bazar.
Bite into crunchy kachoris dipped in a peppery sabzi, and close the meal with piping-hot jalebis.
If one’s looking for something that combines mind, body and spirit, Tulsi Akhada it is. Situated on Tulsi Ghat, a short flight of well-worn steps leads to the akhada that’s buzzing with activity in the wee hours. Men, and a handful of young women, lift weights.
“Jai Bajrangbali ki,” says a pehelwan as he lifts a curiously shaped dumbbell. It resembles an upturned cone. He swings it in a circular motion, such that the dumbbell does a parikrama (circumbulates) of his body. The cone is called a nal. Just then a bunch of teenage girls goes about their training routine. It was in 2017 that Tulsi Akada—now 500 years old—first opened its doors to women. Some of the girls confess that Aarefa or Anushka Sharma in the Bollywood hit, Sultan, is their role model; others mention Dangal. The chatter dies down as guru Siyaram walks in our direction. In his late 60s, he sports a muscular physique in an orange langot. He cuts an intimidating figure until he greets everyone with folded palms. He has been training at this akhada since he was a teenager.
Each fight—even the practice sessions—begins with wrestlers rubbing mud onto their bodies, elevating it to sacred sand of sorts. Most akhadas in Varanasi are located such that they lie in the cool breeze of the Ganga; trees are planted carefully so the sun’s rays stream in, without feeling oppressive.
How old is this ancient art? Historians believe that kushti has its roots in malla yuddha (another form of wrestling), which has been practised in India since the 5th millennium BC and mentioned in the 13th century, Malla Purana. Kushti emerged when malla yuddha was combined with Persian Varzesh-e-bastani under the Mughal Empire. The words kushti and pehelwani are believed to have emerged from Persian. Academic, heritage interpreter and dancer, Navina Jafa views kushti in a larger framework; one that goes beyond linear history or religious epics, and is intertwined with the spirit of Banaras. Jafa says, “In the city, there has always been a resistance to material culture, and gurukuls and akhadas maintained the balance. These institutions offered contrasting stillness to the material movement which was part of the economy of this riverside, commercial town.”
Karan and Dhaniya battle it out. One has the other in a headlock, but there are no piercing sounds of pain, or guffaws representing the ego of victory. The wrestler falls to the mud, silently. Siyaram says, “You have to think of it as overcoming your own laziness and helping another while you’re at it.” So does it matter who wins or loses? Siyaram says, “It’s about your best effort.” By the way, Dhaniya won the match.