Harsh just stood at the ghat watching the cremation workers throwing half-burnt bodies in the Ganges once the families left after finishing the rituals. Scavengers dashed to grab possessions and money kept with the body as part of the cremation ritual. The remains of the ashes, decayed flowers, plastic and half-burnt wood pervaded his senses. Nothing made sense in his life anymore. It was pointless as he stood watching the end of a journey; his political career, his marriage, and the ashes in the Ganga. If anything made sense to him it was being with Rajjo right now. He felt tied down. He wanted to be free. He wanted to escape from this life.

Harsh was a disappointment to his father for his lack of ambition in politics. He frowned at the idea of Harsh pursuing a career in art. Harsh wanted to travel, he wanted to live and explore life. He was married but his wife was disappointed with him for not giving her a child.

Finally Harsh had come to terms with his meaningless existence and decided to take a plunge in politics, to make his father happy and make his wife happy, but then he met Rajjo. Nothing was going to be the same again. He was waiting to meet her again. Every experience, every joy, every sorrow, every encounter in his life was preparing him to meet her.

She made him come alive and now as he faced death, he knew he was not ready to die just yet. He was going to convince her to at least let him stay one more day. One more glance, one more promise to meet.

Hurrying, he turned towards her hotel. He crossed barbers dotted along the road, under the shade of umbrellas, shaving heads, hands moving in a practiced dance. Unaware of the turmoil he carried inside his heart. He hurried along as her beautiful face beckoned him. What if she said harsh words and threw him out, what if she laughed at him? He was already near the Ganges, he was ready to drown anytime. He would seek Shiva and beg him to chant the mantra in his ear to free him from the circle of life and death. The list of possibilities to a man drunk on love were endless.

Rajjo’s gaze took in the expanse of palaces, temples and terraces, connected by an endless chain of stone steps that spread out in front of her along the waterfront. Ganga, the elixir of life, that brings purity to the living and salvation to the dead almost mocked her. She had come alive after meeting him on the banks of Ganga and she had sent him away, right here.

She stared at the water, taking in all its ugly sights and divine purity. Ashes of the dead, emissions from open drains, remains from religious rites, and promises of salvation.