Karma vs Stupidity

I couldn't quite get the right angle for my current photo opportunity. To be fair, I was attempting to photograph, using a two year old mobile phone, a family cremate their eldest son. Katie sat next to me snapping away, where as I gave up after three or four failed attempts. How do you do justice to such an absurd reality? 

I could still feel the heat from the Indian sun as it teasingly hovered over the horizon. As if my eyes had built in Photoshop, my surroundings had been given a comforting golden hue. The Ganges river sparkled and twinkled almost mimicking the flickering flames in front of me. We travelled through India and to Varanassi knowing that this is where people travel from afar to bring their dead loved ones. We watched almost hourly as people carried the dead through the narrow streets, wrapped in fine white cloth and lovingly covered with flowers. We then watched them being bathed in the river and laid out on the banks to dry in the remaining sun. 

I was captivated by this beautiful cultural thing in front of me that I almost didn't hear the man hovering over my head. ''No pictures allowed'' the man said in such a way it was clear he'd been saying it for a while now. Katie and I glanced at each other with a look of horror. Had we just been casually photographing a private funeral? ''I'm sorry'' I said ''We'll delete the pictures''. 

I raised my tatty old phone to show him and he simply replied ''You must speak to the police''. At this point I thought, childishly If i don't breath for a few minutes, he'll go away. Wishful thinking. More men arrived and with the magnificent backdrop a rather choppy and confusing exchange of words happened. Within minutes we were following these men through the darkening and now uncomfortably restrictive streets. 

We had agreed to pay a fine instead of getting the police involved. I'd love to say we knew that we were getting ripped off but, I can't. The men led us up a set of stairs and with every sandy scuff of flip flop to stone my pulse rate increased. I glanced up and a dark and intimidating room was imminent. Men surrounded us throwing a concoction of useless words at us until one voice began to make some sense. ''This is a holy man, he is 100 years old''. Well, not so much sense but understandable. I slipped off my terrified face and threw on my typical British whatever face. The man was about the same age as my mum. Katie and I just kept looking at each other trying to perfect, at the last minute, our telepathic skills. The men asked for money over and over and we eventually gave in. The cash was handed over and we fled from the room. 

Whilst fleeing the building we passed two tourists, retracing footsteps we'd made only moments before. It was like looking in to a mirror. We didn't stop to chat but I wish we had. 30 minutes later Katie and I had been hustled again, this time into buying material. There's something to be said for Karma or maybe just plain stupidity.