Tag Archives: kashi

The Ganga Chronicles – Stone Cold Tigers

Posted on May 3, 2015 by subincontinentia

Finally finished this rather long short story that I had originally posted in parts. Here all four parts in one. The whole story pizza. Enjoy. Vijay Chaudary was worried about his carbuncle. Three pedicures in the past week alone, and there it … Continue reading →

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The greatest show on earth

Posted on April 17, 2015 by subincontinentia

Amelia Earhart once said, ‘You haven’t seen a tree until you’ve seen its shadow from the sky.’ Well, I think it must also be true that you haven’t seen a lunar eclipse until you’ve seen it in Varanasi. Here, where … Continue reading →

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Style

Posted on April 4, 2015 by subincontinentia

When I first met Rakesh he was the youngest boatman working on the Ganges. Ten years old, shy and very quiet. He’s now fifteen, and very much his own man. He dropped out of school because “the teacher was bad” … Continue reading →

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No way around this fire

Posted on April 1, 2015 by subincontinentia

It’s getting harder to see the line Between the edge of my skin and the next man’s goosebumps. “Am I on the cusp of creation or incineration?” A worm in the wake of a lava flow asked the earth the … Continue reading →

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A Cork in Time Saves Infinity

Posted on December 30, 2013 by subincontinentia

The rhythmic dipping of the oars in the Ganga was to Sunil the same as the ticking of the Grandfather Clock in her grandma’s hallway. The boat, the clock, the river—were all metaphors for time. The east bank’s eternal fires, … Continue reading →

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Funeral crasher

Posted on March 30, 2013 by subincontinentia

“Do you have a camera?” The question–barked more than asked –came from a lanky young man in an Orioles baseball cap and a tee-shirt with the words ‘Hot Lover’ splashed across the front. I’d been aimlessly wandering the back streets … Continue reading →

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The touching

Posted on January 7, 2013 by subincontinentia

Sunil and I wander down to his boat and sit on the undulating water, watching the day unfurl. A man descends the ghat steps, a small monkey grins at us from his shoulder. Sunil notices where my interest is going. … Continue reading →

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Tales from the time mandala

Posted on January 6, 2013 by subincontinentia

The ghats of Varanasi are the arms of the Ganges, supporting the devout as they wash away their sins or burn the bodies of those past sinning. Of all these sets of stone steps that lead to the water’s edge, … Continue reading →

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Rakesh and the seventh stone

Posted on December 29, 2012 by subincontinentia

‘In the arms of Mother Ganga, To sleep the sleep of the stainless once more.’  Rakesh grew weary of fishing for customers, his line coming up empty each time. It was getting dark now, and the lights along the ghats … Continue reading →

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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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