I left the shores of Bengal over a month ago, but these vivid memories, moments and currents of emotion, I still will carry in my heart for many a season to come.
This is one such memory. I sat praying by myself on the shores of the Ganges river, one hot, humid August afternoon. I had my moment with the Almighty in this liminal space of ebb and flow, sat cross legged and eyes closed on one of Serampore’s ghats.
When I opened my eyes I was stunned to see no less than a small army of Bengali aunties who had come to sit around me.
I looked around, smiled and laughed. They looked at me, smiled, and laughed too.
We spoke a little, with their broken English, my even more wonky Hindi and Bengali, and a good dose of humour.
Turns out this group of friends and sisters come and sit here almost every day on their way to the temple. We talked family, studies, marriage, outfits…and of course we all agreed we had to take a group photograph. We commissioned one of their husbands, a gentle old uncle, to capture the shot. I think he did a good job.
I remember the gorgeous, colourful cotton sarees they wore, and I remember the monsoon sweat dripping down my fringe, and the odour of muddy water which rose from the river bank. But most of all I remember these beautiful women’s eyes, voices, laughs, gentle and inquisitive strokes, their humanity. I think they liked me too, at least they said so…
