In the evening, as I was walking home, the fog was like a heavy curtain overlooking the city. I had not my glasses with me, and I feared the darkness for I could hardly see ahead of me. However, I felt the old buildings looking over me, and I watched as the lamps (which were surrounded by hundreds, thousands of flying insects) turned into dandylions.
As I walked past the Burning Ghat, I stopped to observe the bodies being cremated over the fires. Three forlorn drums marked the deceased's ascent into the unknown world, and as we watched the fire slowly burning the clothes and the body, some boys next to us laughed excitedly while playing cricket. Someone had scored a run.
To my right, the fog still covered the river and as I stood up to go back home, I managed to make out a boatman, slowly rowing over to the other side. All of a sudden, I knew it was Caronte taking another soul with him after demanding a handful of rupees. I said my prayers and, before I could catch another glimpse of him, I hurried back home and didn't look back.
2 comentarios:
Mi Ingles no es todavia tan bueno para jozar con estas pequenas postales desde la India. Me quedo con las en Castellano que bien las comprendo! Molt bè, Annalisa!
Oh, gracias por pasarte!! Me hace mucha ilusión leer slbre tus aventuras, tu blog pinta muy bien!
Un abrazo desde la India!
Mua.
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