Picture by James Arthur from Google
© Kelvin M. Knight, 2019
He stood at the top of the ghats looking down. Crowds pushed and shoved one another down these steps. Everyone was bathed in orange glows. Earlier that evening they’d been bathed in incense.
He knew what the attraction was, knew why it was vital for these men and women of all ages to get to the riverside and bathe. He knew. He understood. He just didn’t feel anything. He’d been holidaying in Varanasi for years, ever since his partner passed away at the breakfast table. Everything since that fateful day had been dreamy, dislocated.
This thrumming of humanity. This rippling religious river. He should move, go down one step at least. He should. He heaved his camera up instead, aimed it at the middle of the Ganges. Orange ripples turned black. And, there, the reflection of a tiger. He gasped. He felt tearful. Tigers were Adrian’s favourite animal.
Picture from Britannica.com
The above story was written in response to the What Pegman Saw prompt, which this week took us to:
You are warmly invited to the Inlinkz link party to read other globetrotting contributors’ stories inspired by this week’s prompt.