Between . . .

Between Dashashwamedh Ghat Road

and the steps leading to the ghat of the same name,

there is a street,

a street of fruits, vegetables, and flowers.

By no means the only street of its kind in Varanasi, but it is the street I walk down on my way to the ghats.

This morning the street, whose name I do not know, was my world,

and the world of many others whose lives depend on it.

This morning I did not hurry,

and did not pass through,

for there is much to see,

to learn from,

to be humbled by.

Yesterday, Dr. Singh posed a question over evening chai,

“What is Varanasi if not a city whose whole purpose is to frighten you into the present.”