Ganga is covered in a blanket of mist and just when it's about to get dark, a lot of people prepare to start the evening aatri of the holy ganga.
I park myself in a corner to watch the holy daily ritual.
A pandit starts chanting the aarti and along with it starts the circular motion of the huge lamps.
I notice a small boy wearing a white torn shirt which by now has become pale, a black jeans with enigma written on one thigh and a knitted white skull cap on his head in one corner, safely away from the hindu crowd.
I wondered how he arrived here, fearless as he seemed, curiously watching the whole thing. And as the aarti finished, he moved slowly towards the exit, removed his skull cap and his shirt and started begging along with the other beggers there.
I watch him from a distance for some time until he is lost in the crowd.
I saw him again that day while walking down a old street, eating chowmein at a roadside stall.
I wanted to talk to him but could not think of a possible way to start the conversation.
Learning to 'LIVE' ...
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