Scents of indian night

I can’t sleep. I lie down and remember how one midnight I wandered around the Indian city of Haridwar. Turned on the computer and found these pictures.
After the action I saw on the embankment, which I wrote about here, I could not force myself to return to the hotel, even though I was already overwhelmed with impressions. The feeling that everything around was just a movie, and I was one of the characters did not leave me. I did not want to stop the film in the most interesting place.

The colors of the night, its sounds and smells - what always attracts and attracts, does not give rest. Perhaps insomnia is a gift that we cannot always appreciate. And if we talk about India, then the night is also a time when, finally, at least a little bit the sweltering heat subsides, and the streets are freed from the endless masses of people, somewhere in a hurry, scurrying, screaming.

Moving away from the main street, you find yourself in narrow alleys with numerous stairs along which kids rush, despite the late hour.

Adults go to evening prayer at this time. There are plenty of places for this - hundreds of small temples are scattered throughout the city, look into any gateway and see worshipers, hear religious singing and music.

Such an uncle sits with his legs bent under him, and for hours gundos some mantras into the microphone or sings to a simple phonogram.

For someone to communicate with higher spheres, just the riverbank is enough.

But worldly things must not be forgotten either. Buyers have long been gone, but sellers have to watch goods on the street ruins all night.

The rickshaw still hopes to take someone somewhere.

The ice cream seller is also still waiting for his customers.

Closer to the main street, a noticeable revival is felt, here the shops are still not soon closing.

In one of the gateways I came across a group of youth. The guys were very excited, shouted something loudly, laughed, one of them waving a flag.

They looked like football fans, if you did not know that in India, football is much less popular than for example bast shoes.

Obviously stoned and quite weak!

Such is the neighborhood of the low and high ...

Right at the water's edge, an Indian goddess sits in a glass crypt.

This "nightmare of an electrician" can often be found in the most unexpected places, all buildings are fantastically wrapped in wires and cables.

The garbage collected on the day in the city streets is raked in a heap, and it becomes a food product for "sacred animals."

The competition is only for the poor, including children, who are looking in the trash for something to profit from ...

What is not hung in the openings between the buildings - advertising, political slogans and banners, flags and signs. It seems that all this should tear and collapse at the first gust of wind, but no - it hangs for years, judging by the faded colors!

Who lay down to sleep under a balcony and a sprawling tree? These still found a more or less secluded place for themselves ...

... and someone is sleeping right on a busy street! I was always envious of this ability to disconnect from external stimuli!

The silver waters of the Ganges take away with them the sins and illnesses washed away during the day.

Tomorrow will be a new day and a new party of those who want to confess and be healed ...

The title of the post contains the scents of the Indian night, but somehow there is not a word about the scents ...

Smells of water and incense, fried and boiled food, vegetables and fruits, mixed with sickening notes of garbage, garbage and slop, smells of ripened human bodies, hash, hot pavements and hot polyethylene - Perfumer Suskind would simply suffocate here!