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My hands trembled with love and material affinity before I pushed my fear out of my mental space to pour the ashes of my father in the ever flowing river Ganges. It is largely believed in Hinduism that one who leaves his body in Varanasi attains liberation from the cycles of birth and death. In this, Ganges has played an important part in the journey of man to his creator. Narrow alleys lead you to Manikarnika ghat and I felt lucky to walk on my two legs here because only lifeless body travels to the ghat on pall-bearers. Logs of wood in different hues of brown welcome you at the entrance of this ghat. You hear agonizing wails of humans on having lost a dear one at the ghat. At the same time there is incessant chanting of sacred hymns to connect your soul to the Divine. The added effect to this are the thick dark smoke at the ghat. One look at the ground makes you humble. A human turned to dust in a matter of few hours. The Manikarnika ghat seemed to have a calming chaos. It buzzes with life twenty four hours but only to make you realize it is the end. It is death we come for. It was dusk but I did not wish to leave the ghat. As if my father was still with me at that spot when suddenly the ranting of bells and lighted lamps caught my attention to the other ghat. I felt moist around the corner of my eyes as I gathered myself to take a stroll to Dasaswamedh ghat to witness the flamboyant worship of Ganges. As I was walking, suddenly a whip of freshly prepared tea with cardamom crossed my senses. The passing air was aromatic and inviting. I halted at the tea shop. The tiny shop was rather over crowded but I happened to get a wooden stool. Surprisingly, the serving time was fast. A young boy handed me a clay tumbler brimming with tea. As I took a sip, an old visibly feeble man smiled at me. The smile was not attractive but somehow mesmerizing. I initiated a conversation with the aged man. ‘ What is your name, sir?’ I questioned. The man beamed with happiness as he answered, ‘ I am Nav Agarwal.’ Both of us finished our tea but our chit-chat became animated. He was about seventy years and having seen seventy change of seasons, he obviously had deep insights about life. During the conversation he told that he had been in Varanasi for past two months. It intrigued me but I kept my curiosity to myself and did not ask much. Slowly the sea of folks receded from the ghat. I also mentally prepared myself to say goodbye to this chance acquaintance and head to my hotel because I had train to catch next morning to Bangalore where I work. As I thanked Nav Agarwal for his company, he asked for my number. I became stiff and hesitant to share my number with a new person. Nevertheless, I shared my contact details and left. I reached my hotel, packed my bag and went to bed. It was one of those restless nights when I struggled to sleep. Oscillating like a pendulum between the thoughts of my father and my evening meeting. It was 2.45 am when my mobile beeped. The ring made me skip a heartbeat but then quickly my mind took over. Dad was already gone so no more shocking news. I picked the phone and the voice of a young boy with a lump in the throat informed that Nav Agarwal left this world sometime ago and he had asked that boy to request me to do his last rites. I was shell shocked. Nothing in my life had ever prepared me to deal with this uncanny scenario. Why on earth I met Nav Agarwal? How did he know that I will do his last rites and that he would die the same night before I left Varanasi? Sometimes there are no answers but Varanasi made me understand there are no chance encounters in life. There is an intricate planning of…..whom?