I finally paid my ten rupees and boarded one of the boats. The boatman rowed no more than thirty or forty feet out, but the mist was so thick that at times we couldn't see the shore—we were surrounded just by whiteness and the soft din of ritual activity on the banks. Other times we could see this shrouded view of the shore, and these little beacons in the water—candles placed inside lotus blossoms inside little clay cups, offered to the Ganges and sent to float off in the slow current.

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All images ©2002-2003 by Dietrich Neuman