In a hand-built strawbale home in the heart of the country, I welcome the day. After a wet morning, the sun is shining through the clouds and drying up the Spring puddles. Meanwhile the bird songs range from chirps of joy to roosters doodling their doo. After five days of arduous work in the garden, I find myself lying on my back in great enjoyment. Transitioning from actively "doing" to passively "being," I feel the space to reflect on my surroundings and share with my friends and loved ones what I've been engaged in this past phase.
India is a colorful and aromatic plate of curry, that is commonly difficult for the Western stomach to digest. Served with a side of chapati and chaos, this place is full of disorder, perpetuating constant uncertainty. Fueled by aggression and self righteousness, the fabric of society is woven in a way that makes it very difficult for even the most prepared backpackers to navigate.
Legend has is that Varanasi was founded by Lord Shiva, Hindu Deity of destruction. When one dies in this particular city, the soul is released from the karmic cycle of rebirth. It is the spiritual capital of India and one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world that is often framed by dirty cement walls embellished with street art. Thus I present: Graffiti in the Ghats.