October 8th, 2010 Chennai
Long saris hang across the deep winding alley formed by the five story buildings made of brick and cement. The sand colored walls are tinted with black mold from the never ending humid days. Tiny barefoot women, rings on their toes, water jugs filled and balanced on their hips, pass their days chewing beetlenut, sweeping the streets, making food, and weaving garlands of jasmine flowers for Siva.
A one armed man walks with his friend whose sunken milky eyes waver side to side as he offers his open hand to me in hopes for something in return for the gesture.
The roads are rivers winding and leading me into tangents with no easy way back. I weave amongst dying dogs, dead kittens washed into the street from the monsoon, and sacred cows eating garbage poured out of tipped dumpsters.
Sacred is the peacock blue of the sky, the dirt under the fingernails, the stink of the canal, the smile of the ancient woman who sold me a papaya this morning.