It seems strange to me, a stranger with, I hope, an open mind. Such reverence and familiarity with death. Here, at the cremation site on the River Ganges, where any Hindu would be pleased to meet the fire, the space is crowded with mourners and those doing the work of cremation. I have encountered death - rarely, but occasionally. Yet here death pulls up a chair or grabs the other end of the pallet. It is familiar here in a way it isn't to me.
It is reassuring in way. They've been accepting of death as part of life, basing their life decisions on that, and doing it for millennia. I need to look more closely here.
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