A Carnival Of Death / The Strangest Of Spectacles

India was many things. I spent one-year living, working and documenting the culture, politics and problems. Sadly, my final conclusion was that India is broken. But I will reserve that for another story, as for now I would like to pen my night-time experience as a spectator of death, on the crooked Ghats of Varanasi.

Right off the train the message was clear "Boat Trip, Boat Trip, Very Close, Ceremony, Very Best, Culture culture culture, Yes". The rumours were true; Death was a tourist trap, a cheap commodity, wrapped in plastic with a free fridge magnet. The notion that those burning their loved ones, and mourning a life, were deeply affected (by the ocean of DSLR's, Commercial Flash Guns and blaring techno) was obvious. I felt like a piece of shit. There's a list of activities I have partaken in over the years that I regret. Paying $5 to join the rest of this herd in spectating over pain and suffering was a shameful act. But here we are reflecting on it many years later with a bunch of images I can't really bring myself to share.

I remember the excitement building inside me as we slowly bobbed along the Ganges. The entire scene was a photographers wet-dream. I had travelled thousands of miles by train to capture these very moments. This was it, a top bucket list from my ignorant past.

I don't know what it is with me. In large crowds I always seem to catch the eye of the subject, and I locked onto a passing glance with a Indian man, perhaps in his 30's. He stood 8ft from a burning mass and as we looked at each other I wondered who he was burning. The westerner in me threw the man a casual nod of condolence, but his face didn't move, his eyes remained locked on mine, focused. A moment later I turned my head and felt the weight of horror, the shame. Nowhere to run, but to turn my head. We asked our guide to turn the boat around and head back down river. He laughed. I'm not entirely sure what he was laughing at, perhaps it was the predictability of it all. Another westerner in search of great truths they cannot handle.

I can handle the death, the suffering, it is rare for me to look away. In this moment I was fundamentally disturbed by the tourism industry built around these traditional values and the part I played in it. I found no evidence that me and Leonards presence had any positive effect on the place or people. One can argue that the tourism we bring sustains life for those living in the city.

In my opinion, these boatmen were nothing but crooks.

Thanks for reading.

Hello Travelfeed.io I am Cotton, I am a street photographer and professional filmmaker. I am new on here, but not new to Hive or Steem. Thank you for commenting on my Hive post yesterday and letting me know about this fantastic site. I look forward to posting my travel stories and art here.

Peace and Love.

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