Category Archives: Kashi

The same son

Posted on November 19, 2012 by subincontinentia

It’s not easy to find out how someone died in India. You invariably receive the most meager explanation. Sometimes simply a body part. “Stomach,” or “Heart” or “Liver.”  So, when I asked Sunil how Rakesh’s father died, he didn’t feel … Continue reading →

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The Ganga Chronicles

Posted on June 23, 2012 by subincontinentia

“You canno forsch life inku enggi shay you wan jus fom guh powah of your fillings.” German Baba struggled to form the words around his toothbrush that had been busily working its way around his mouth for the past ten … Continue reading →

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Chain-smoking guru

Posted on June 19, 2012 by subincontinentia

I went downstream – to imagine How things could have been different I went upstream – and worried How things might change But then your grandfather’s words Rippled underneath…. “The boat is the middle. Stay on the boat.” From Water … Continue reading →

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The world according to Jude

Posted on May 25, 2012 by subincontinentia

“Tell me anything that’s ever happened to you. And I can improve upon the story.” From The World According to Garp by John Irving The waiters hovered in a corner, numerous but dutifully unconcerned by the culinary aspirations of their … Continue reading →

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They all died in a pink submarine…

Posted on May 7, 2012 by subincontinentia

I have no idea how old it is, but it looks like it could have been designed in the 17th century by the submarine’s inventor, Cornelius van Drebbel himself, whose craft reached a depth of 15 feet during trials in … Continue reading →

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The lop-eyed astrologer

Posted on May 2, 2012 by subincontinentia

“Look, what beautiful silks he has! He’s inviting us into his shop!” Daniel stopped and spun around on one foot in a bouncy half pirouette. For the past half hour, Lucy and I had been practically chasing after him through … Continue reading →

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India’s real superpower

Posted on May 1, 2012 by subincontinentia

In monsoon, she gets up at 5 o’clock, cooks breakfast for her family under a tarp. She then walks one hour and fifteen minutes in rain that doesn’t so much fall as gush like a fire hose, across half a … Continue reading →

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One man’s hell…

Posted on May 1, 2012 by subincontinentia

“Varanasi is a shit hole. If you can’t see it’s a shit hole, you’ve got your hippie shit-loving head screwed on backwards. Varanasi is a holy heaven. And if you can’t see that, you’ve got your tired tight-ass world upside-down.” … Continue reading →

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Burning is Learning

Posted on April 29, 2012 by subincontinentia

Twice I’ve tried to write about Varanasi. The first time my notebook mysteriously disappeared from my hotel room in Pahar Ganj, New Delhi. The next time, I dropped it in the Ganges. Varanasi is like that. Resists anything that tries … Continue reading →

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