Varanasi Scene

you are nothing

you do not exist

you are not

real.

i stood on the edge of the flooded Ganges river and tried to marvel at something.  Anything.  The sky was iron gray and the streets were black with human feces and stagnant puddles from the relentless monsoon rain, trying in vain to purge the filth from this hallowed city, Varansi.  The murky river water had risen up and overtaken most of the ancient temples, leaving nothing but some scattered, once- sacred steeples jutting out of the indifferent water.  There was no longer a clear divider between the holy river of Shiva and the rest of us—the living.  

Whatever that means.

i woke up  that morning in a dark, windowless hostel room without a clue for the time, night or day.  Megan and Hailey had disappeared for whatever reason. Into thin air.  i gasped for air and jumped up to hit the lights.  The artificial, orange ambiance was a strange anesthesia.  I war no longer dreaming.  Better to see what it is you are so afraid of, i think, but of course that is not always possible.  i thought to pray and then thought better of it before going out to find the other two students i drug with me on what i thought would be a “great, cultural experience.”