[ Preparations for an evening "Puya" by the Ganges River. Ghats of Varanasi India 2019 ] Sunset was near and I was walking back from the Dashashwamedh Ghat towards Assi Ghat after having witnessed dozens and dozens of rituals of all kinds. On the way I came across a garbage can with the disturbing inscription "Holy garbage". I continued on my way while wondering how garbage could be holy. I came to the conclusion that only in a country where everything is sacred, where everything is ritual and myth can that be possible. About to reach my destination and when I thought that the rituals were over for today I suddenly found dozens of people preparing this night puja, one more and possibly not the last one. Definitely, I thought, India is the land of myths.

[ Sunset by the crematoria of Manikarnika . Ritual baths in the Ganges River . Varanasi India 2019. ]

[ Near the crematoria of Manikarnika . A man smeared in ashes makes his evening offerings in the Ganges River. Varanasi India 2019 ] I had been strolling the ghats all day and had taken a break while observing the incessant smoke in the background produced by the continuous cremations at Manikarnika. The day was coming to an end and the Ganges River despite its manifest filth was turning silver. I thought that the scene was fine but something was missing. Suddenly this pilgrim, whom I had already seen praying and meditating for hours with his wife, appeared smeared with ash from the crematoria. Moments before plunging into the river, he raised his arms in prayer. Shortly afterwards he returned with his wife and they both got lost in the crowd.

[ Sadhu agori during his morning bath in the Ganges River next to the Harischandra crematoria. Varanasi India 2019. ] The first impression one gets when approaching the Ganges at any time of the day is that of hundreds, thousands of people bathing in a dirty river. But no one who bathes in a river joins hands to raise a prayer to the gods, no one pours its water from heavy metal pots while closing his eyes, no one immerses himself in its waters and drinks from them as if it were an essential medicine. No one anywhere else in the world except here. All this, which transforms the everyday into transcendent, is what becomes any river into a sacred river.

[ A pilgrim watches the Ganges River downstream of the Manikarnika crematoria . Varanasi India 2019. ]

[ Sunset on the Ganges River . Varanasi India 2019. ] I spent hours and hours to capture this image that, possibly like no other, best captures the permanent duality that is lived in Varanasi: the light, the hubbub of the seagulls, the movement of pulsating life around the sacred Ganges River versus the stillness, darkness and silence of death that is felt in the vicinity of Manikarnika.

[ Change of dhoti - traditional Hindu dress for men - after the evening ritual bath in the Ganges. Platforms downstream of the Manikarnika crematoria. Varanasi India 2019. ]

[ Pilgrim wearing traditional loincloth after his ritual bath in the Ganges. Varanasi India 2019. ] We were surrounded by dozens of people bathing, laughing, splashing and praying. This man, tall, wiry and parsimonious in his movements seemed oblivious to all the fuss. He was perfectly aware that I was trying to photograph him, turned his face slightly towards me, looked at me sideways for a moment and continued self-absorbed in his thoughts.

[ Viewpoint to the Ganges River from the crematoria of Manikarnika .Varanasi India 2019. ] His big white hair stood out from the dozens of heads and turbans crowded around the crematoria of Manikarnika. I decided to follow him from a distance in the hope of getting a good close-up but the crowd prevented me from moving at the pace I needed to catch up with him. Finally I lost sight of him and on my way back, I saw this mystical looking pilgrim standing still and contemplating the ganges from this privileged viewpoint. As I was framing someone fortunately called his attention out loud and the two men turned in unison. The long wait was paying off again.

[ Avaya Nath Ji - of Nepali origin - on the left and Ashutosh Baba on the right sadhus saniasis. Ghats of Varanasi India 2019. ] I met Ashutosh having tea at a street stall a few meters away from the Manikarniká crematoria. Born in a family with a good economic status, Ashutosh is a true renouncer who nevertheless uses social networks quite naturally. Avaya, on the other hand, of Nepali origin, lives temporarily in Varanasi following his guru. Both spend hours, days, sitting on the same platform, meditating and letting time pass between the smoke of hashish and the mist of the Ganges River. There was not a day that passed in front of them that Avaya did not greet me. This snapshot captures one of those moments.

[ Ashutosh Baba sadhu saniasi during one of his yoga sessions. Ghats of Varanasi India 2019. ]

[ "Puya" on the banks of the Ganges River In the vicinity of the Dashashwamedh Ghat. In the center, encircled by the family, the puyari or brahman priest on the verge of mystical ecstasy. Varanasi India 2019. ] It is materially impossible to think of Varansi without associating it with scenes like this that are repeated by the thousands every day for ages. A puyari of the Brahman caste officiates the ritual - the puja - ordering step by step each of the inextricable gestures and manipulations that the devotees must perform for their spiritual purification. Most of the time one gets the feeling that everything is rather routine and even monotonous. However, on this occasion the Puyari manifested an enthusiasm with his parishioners that was in crescendo until the ecstatic moment captured in the snapshot.

[ “Puya” inside a temple next to the crematoria of Manikarnika. Varanasi India 2019. ] I had just witnessed the rituals for the cremation the young man's mother who, with tears in his eyes, confessed to me that no belief prepares you for the pain of the loss of a loved one. I turned away from the crematoria area because the intense smoke made the air unbreathable. Just behind the crematoria I ran into this scene whose light alone blotted out all the sorrow of the crematoria themselves.

[ Hindu devotees praying inside a temple. Varanasi India 2019. ]

[ Sadhus in their "asrham" as temporary accommodation . Varanasi India 2019. ]

[ A grandfather and his granddaughter during their daily meditation session under the crematoria of Manikarnika . Varanasi India 2019. ] I had seen this man day after day bathing in the Ganges River and sheltering from the sun under the awnings of the platforms just below the crematoria, where often came an unbearable smell of burning flesh. He usually kept a static and serene attitude but there was nothing to suggest that he was doing meditation sessions. I was able to talk to him and he confirmed that this daily purification and meditation routine was for him as essential as the air we breathe. That day I photographed him with his granddaughter to whom he tries to transmit all his knowledge whenever he has the opportunity.

[ Sanskrit school students - brahmacharis - reciting the sacred verses of Ayurveda. Varanasi India 2019. ] The school was in the center of Varanasi and its interior was perceived as an island of peace within the circulatory chaos of the city. I wandered through the school letting myself be guided by the monotonous chants of Ayurveda, which crossed from afar dark corridors and courtyards of blinding light. At the end of one of the corridors, in a tiny room through which the outside light was filtering in from the side, these children, oblivious to everything, recited over and over again, accompanied by their hands, the sacred texts of their ancestors.

[ Children, earning the day's wages, rummaging for valuables in the mud of the Ganges River. Near the Ghat Dashashwamedh .Varanasi India 2019. ] The Dashashwamedh Ghat is one of the most crowded in Varanasi. On its large platform entire families gather, offerings to the Ganges are celebrated after weddings or just let the time pass. Under the platform, the hubbub formed by these children's discoveries was mixed with the noise of the pressurized water thrown by the municipal officials and hid the natural murmur of the ghat itself. The scene was so dynamic and ever-changing that I had to spend quite a while looking for the right point of view. Everything seemed to be part of a kind of permanent dance where everything moves so that everything remains the same. These children were born under the sacred mud of the Ganges and in all probability they will die in it.

[ Sunset in the improvised family shipyards on the banks of the Ganges River. Varanasi India 2019. ] I spent three full afternoons on this scene. The position and setting of the boat attracted me from the first day I saw it, but I needed to bring it to life somehow and there were always elements that distorted the image. On the third day this little girl appeared whose father came to visit the carpenters who were fixing this little boat in the improvised dry dock. With their permission, I invited the little girl into the boat; it didn't take more than two shots to capture the naivety of her gaze within what always seemed to me to be a huge eye on the edge of the river.

[ Family of pilgrims just after ceremonial baths in the river Ganges . Varanasi India 2019. ] I met this large family coming out of the Kedareshwar temple at Kedar Ghat. The little girl, who never left her father's side for a moment, seemed frightened by my presence so I decided to observe the scene from a safe distance. While they were preparing to hire a puja she didn't stop watching me with a look between shy and defiant. Finally I was able to cross a few words with her older brother so I was able to approach where they were. The brief conversation with her brother seemed to relax the tension. I gestured to her with the camera whereupon she gave a slight, brief smile. As I framed the scene he stared at me and I finally took the shot.

[ Familia de peregrinos a la salida del templo Kedareshwar en Kedar Ghat. Varanasi India 2019. ] The Kedareshwar temple was, as usual, crowded with families of pilgrims, many of them coming, without doubt, from the depths of rural India judging by their almost tribal appearance. Among them all, I was struck by the gentleness with which these two women treated this little girl with big eyes and an innocent look. I asked their permission to photograph them with a gesture and they turned slightly and placed the girl between the two of them. When I was about to shoot, the father, probably jealous of not appearing in the scene, suddenly entered the frame just as I was about to shoot. I said goodbye to the four and thanked them for their time.

[ Family of pilgrims during a collective puja at Kedareshwar Temple Kedar Ghat. Varanasi India 2019. ] The Kedareshwar Temple is a hub for thousands of pilgrims who travel to it from all over India. In the middle of the crowd, this family immediately caught my attention because of their absolutely tribal appearance that vaguely reminded me of scenes from southern Ethiopia. Among them all, I focused on the one who seemed to be the patriarch because of the way the rest of the people addressed him, an old, scrawny man, absolutely devoted to his prayers, who remained at all times next to his wife with his head shaved like the rest of the family.

[ Sadhu aghori smeared with human ashes . In the vicinity of the Harischandra crematoria . Varanasi India 2019. ] For a newcomer to Varanasi it takes a while to learn to distinguish the true sadhu from the opportunist. In Dasaswamedh Ghat and the surrounding area it is easy to encounter friendly characters looking for a photograph in exchange for a few rupees. I was able to observe this renounced ascetic guru over the course of a couple of weeks. He remained motionless for most of the time surrounded by his disciples and absorbed in his meditations. I liked to sit at some distance from him and he never gave way to any kind of conversation. Finally I approached to photograph him and made a gesture to give him a few rupees which he declined. I thanked him and he gave me an "I bless you".

[ Sadhu preparing himself for meditation beside his guru of the aghori sect . Ghats of Varanasi India 2019. ]

[ Sadhus of the aghori community. The guru smeared with human ashes and wearing a necklace made of human bones. In the vicinity of the crematoria of Harischandra. Varanasi India 2019. ] It was barely eight in the morning and the atmosphere was cold and humid. Once I passed the crematorium I saw a bonfire in the distance around which there was a group of people. A group of aghori sadhus surrounded their guru smeared in ashes and adorned with countless beads among which human bones were distinguished as usual in this sect of Hindu ascetics. The guru with friendly gesture invited me to photograph him, the snapshot captures that moment.

[ Sadhu of the aghori sect in his itinerant ashram on the banks of the Ganges River. In the foreground some of the dozens of human skulls accompanying him .Varanasi India 2019. ] His temporary camp set up on the right bank of the Ganges River was visible from the city if the smog permitted. When I entered the tent, the guru was being massaged with oils by one of his disciples. Affable and serene in appearance, sparing with words, he allowed himself to be photographed and invited me to photograph any of his disciples. In an adjoining tent I met this agori sadhu in full meditation and surrounded by human skulls. Finally, I thanked the guru for his welcome and asked him if I should compensate his hospitality in any way; with a slight gesture he gave me to understand that not at all. Getting to know his peaceful and surely intense way of life was not something to put a price on. I was immediately reminded of the enormous number of fake sadhus I had met in the gahts who seek to be photographed only in exchange for a good amount of rupees.

[ Sadhu entering inside the temple of Topovan Ashram . Nakki ghat . Varanasi India 2019. ]

[ Ascetic elder staying at the Topovan Ashram. Nakki ghat. Varanasi India 2019. ] Varanasi is a sacred city for Hindus, here they come to die from all over the country to free themselves from the eternal cycle of reincarnations. I had been visiting this ashram for a long time, where the monks were wandering around, washing their clothes, resting on their cots or simply meditating in some solitary corner. Unexpectedly in a remote courtyard I ran into this old man dozing in the sun. I had the impression that his last and final bath in the holy river Ganges was near.

[ Ritual shaving for the cremation ceremony of a family member. Immediate vicinity of the crematoria of Manikarnika.Varanasi India 2019. ] Everything has its place in Manikarnika. Manikarnika, the largest of Varanasi's crematoria, lives by and for the business of death: wood sellers for cremations, clothes sellers for rituals, pot sellers for ointments, hawkers, street food stalls... and among the crowd that throngs the adjacent alleys, any corner is good for the ceremonial shaving that every first-born must do for the cremation of the family member.

[ Relatives, friends and curious people surround the firstborn dressed in the special dhoti on the occasion of the cremation rituals of an ancestor. Manikarnika Crematoria. Varanasi India 2019. ] Relatives and friends involved in the cremations face these moments with a mixture of resignation and liberation. I watched for some time this man who wore the ceremonial dhoti as the first-born son. He had wandered alone and crestfallen around the crematorium while his relative was consumed in the flames. At one point he was surrounded by curious onlookers and relatives who tried to console him, although he remained impassive to all that was going on around him. He was aware at all times that I was trying to photograph him and he stared at me until I took the shot, lowered his head again and, absorbed in his thoughts, wandered off again into the crowd.

[ Workers of the dom caste - the untouchables par excellence - prepare the corpses for the final journey: their cremation and final release or moksha. Crematoria of Manikarnika Varanasi India 2019. ] I tried to take this snapshot over and over again from the crematorium viewing platform but there was always something in the way. The flow of corpses to the lower part of the crematorium is constant but usually the smoke is so intense at the viewing platform that visibility is practically nil. A stroke of luck after so many attempts dragged the smoke into the river and exposed the scene that is quintessential Manikarniká: Here finally one is liberated from the eternal cycle of reincarnations. Here Shiva definitely grants you the Tárak Mantra. Here you finally find the longed-for "moksha".

[ Final act . A man throws to the sacred Ganges River the remains of the cremation (almost always the hip) of his ancestor. Around relatives, onlookers and gold diggers observe the last act of the Hindu funeral rite. Crematorium of Manikarnika Varanasi India 2019. ] On my second trip along the banks of the Ganges River passing through Varanasi I found myself in front of the gold diggers who earn their living at the foot of the immense crematorium of Manikarnika. I had framed one of them, who was absorbed in his work, and I was surprised when he suddenly looked up. I took the camera apart and found the scene: a man with his ceremonial dothi, which everyone was watching, was about to throw the unconsumed remains of his ancestor into the sacred river Ganges, which he was carrying between two half reeds. I was witnessing the final act of the last journey.