A white string makes it's way out of the frame, at it's end is a kite flying over a group of burning bodies, next to the river Ganga. These waters run through the holiest city in all of india, Varanasi where hindus come to die and exit the cycle of reincarnation. I was so drawn to this boy. Him and his friends laughed and shrieked and they played around the burning and dead.. It so vivid and real, you can feel in the air the cycle of life on a massive scale. His eye seems to see through me. He understands things that I do not and I feel like an infant as I lift my camera and preserve this moment.
In the west when someone dies we cover them up and ship them off where it is someone else's duty to tend to the body. Here in the streets of Varanasi you see hoards of people with their hands carrying the bodies of their dead. Family and friends. They weep, throwing flowers while chanting. It has honor and depth and is over powering. The whole city smells of burning oak, in the winter it is cold and summers bring unbearable heat. Grown men run to the tops of buildings after work to fly kites from rooftops. Holy men come from the mountains and sit in meditation for days on end. Varanasi is the oldest inhabited city in the world. It has been said that the Buddha walked these very streets. This is the city where children play next to burning bodies.
*Note: After a body has finished burning a man cracks the skull with a big stick to release to soul.