India: Dream of Varanasi

On the 5th floor, under the blazing sun lived the captain, a Greek with a resinous beard, a skilled macramé master. He introduced me to his crew and sailed the Ganges until he fell ill. Almost no one escaped this fate and we shared recipes to save our stomachs. Everything was on the verge of exhaustion and a new beginning. I waited patiently, down the steps to the Ganges and up the steps, seeking what words could not convey.

We would gather at Babaji's place and he would brew tea on the terrace. This tea cost only 5 rupees, but the cup was small. You have to order three times.

The thick sweetish air soaked the coast and boats along the shore adorned the Ganges like a necklace. They brought back memories as they sailed between two sacred places. Ten years ago I was different, but Varanasi is eternal. A portal to other worlds. It teaches you to read the signs along the way. Varanasi's steps are twice as tall as usual, there are eighty-six of them terraced to boats and swelling joints slowing down.

Into the Ganges I plunged twice. The first time in the name of the frame, the second to say goodbye and forgive.

It was a good time and 9 tapes for half a year.

Viktor Ratushny 2019