i took a wee dook in the ganges this morning.
bodies jostling, voices clamoring, babies crying, bright orange garlands thrown into water, billowing women sprinkling bits of water over babies held aloft, hindu pilgrim wear - bright orange t-shirts and shorts - clinging to glistening male bodies emerging from water, jostling past those bearing little plastic urns, wanting to jostle away with a piece o the ganges, amid ocassional foreigner bearing long-lensed camera capturing chaotic scene.
wading in the brown murky water now filled with billowing saris of women dunking ritually while pinching their noses - one dunk, two dunks, three dunks . . . i stand holding the bamboo cane preventing further venturing into the swiftly flowing massive swollen river - the most swollen in twelve years they tell me; the street closest to the river submerged and inaccessible - the far side looks very far away, i close my eyes and feel the cool morning breeze whispering about my cheeks, feeling the jostling and billowing at my back, the murky water all around
jostling, billowing, murky.
a sacred moment in the sacred Ganges - it is holy because people say it is holy.
bodies jostling, voices clamoring, babies crying, bright orange garlands thrown into water, billowing women sprinkling bits of water over babies held aloft, hindu pilgrim wear - bright orange t-shirts and shorts - clinging to glistening male bodies emerging from water, jostling past those bearing little plastic urns, wanting to jostle away with a piece o the ganges, amid ocassional foreigner bearing long-lensed camera capturing chaotic scene.
wading in the brown murky water now filled with billowing saris of women dunking ritually while pinching their noses - one dunk, two dunks, three dunks . . . i stand holding the bamboo cane preventing further venturing into the swiftly flowing massive swollen river - the most swollen in twelve years they tell me; the street closest to the river submerged and inaccessible - the far side looks very far away, i close my eyes and feel the cool morning breeze whispering about my cheeks, feeling the jostling and billowing at my back, the murky water all around
jostling, billowing, murky.
a sacred moment in the sacred Ganges - it is holy because people say it is holy.
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