Alone in the Bhagavad

I feel like I end up walking alone through the epic book of the Bhagavad Gita. These mythical places are made manifest in unexpected ways as I look around. It feels somewhat empty inside, like it needs to be shared with someone. The only devastated remnants I have are these little pictures, which seem a poor substitute.

Alone in the Bhagavad

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Khamali in the shadows of Moghuls

Khamali sat there smiling at me every time I walked by. I would always smile back at her and nod in a generally friendly way. She didn’t ask me for money or anything, although she seemed to ask others, I noticed.

I passed her a fourth time because I was going back to the temple as the light was changing.

She bobbled her head in a pleasant manner. I stopped to give her some rupees and she quickly secured them in the folds of her saree. I made the international sign for “can I please take your picture”, and she shook excitedly as some nearby boys came over to watch.

Khamali in the shadows of Moghuls

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Hindu Daily Offerings

I was at a small temple between Agra and Delhi, and spent some time there, walking around and enjoying the sights and the people. Soon, some of these elders came along to make their daily offerings. I nodded to them with the camera, and I got a happy bobble back, so I followed them around a bit with the camera as they glided around the temple.

Hindu Daily Offerings

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Golden Light at the Hour of Death

The Moghuls really knew how to bury their dead. They never seemed to build anything out of rubber or have nice cushy bean-bag chairs… it was all sharp angles and stone… it reminds me of all the sharp-cornered coffee tables where two-year-olds bump their heads until their parents figure out that it is better to have a round coffee table… okay that has nothing to do with anything in this photo any more…

Golden Light at the Hour of Death

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The Temple Roof in Delhi

I went up a narrow passageway to get up here to the roof. The stairway was clearly not meant for a tripod like mine… although I suppose I could have collapsed it before wrestling it the narrow twisting corridors. It reminded me of moving my friend’s stupid sleeper-sofa up a curved stairway in college.

The Temple Roof in Delhi

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