An autoricksaw scam, a stampeding bullock, and a strike meeting made it difficult for us to push our way through the tight knot of alleyways to our hotel. Excrement of many creatures and plastic litter the steps. Our room faces the red rising sun over the river. Rowing boats ply back and forth on the green brown waters. A bloated cow carcass and flower garlands gently drift by.
Aromatic sandalwood scents the smoke.
A band plays a frantic rhythm to the grieving. As an underscore, buried deep in the river fog and haze, a freight train rumbles over the iron bridge downstream. Soapy men clad in skimpy loin cloths dunk themselves into the holy water. Kids fly and battle kites, square cut fours into the river or hawk us postcards. Washermen grunt as they swat clothes against slabs of red sandstone.