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clasped in prayer, stand facing the river heads bent. One holds a soft glowing incense, a while dhoti hangs transparent against the black Ganges. Overhead the big dipper inverted against the earth, hangs empty having poured its contents a millennium ago. A boatman takes down his dhoti, wraps part of it around his waist the other end still hanging on the raised stone platform. Echo sounds float from the temple door. Someone sings from the night. A group of men come from the burning ghat to bathe in the Ganges, removing their whit kurta and pajamas, bodies brown against the inky water. Creatures shedding white civilized skins for primitive rites. They submerge quickly, splashing and joking loudly, dry themselves rapidly, putting back on their white apparel. Their multiple arms twisted in the air overlapping slipping shirts over their heads like a reincarnation of Siva. A boy carefully makes his way down the dark steps with two glasses of tea. His fingers gingerly grasping the top part of the hot glasses.

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The tall priest paces back and forth on the steps in front of the temple casting a long shadow. The men return to the burning ghat laughing amongst themselves. Stray dogs wander about their business, scurrying, sniffing. Murmur of distant voices. Someone interrupts brushing his teeth with a twig to talk. A Sadhu carrying Siva's trident makes his way up the steep incline to the temple. The air hangs wet. A boy removes his clothes, except for a tight loincloth - dark brown skin - looking naked. He faces to the southwest in homage to the departed sun, mumbles an incantation and steps to a wooden platform, spacing his legs wide apart, begins his pushups in a sensuous thrusting, his breath coming in shorter gasps. A woman with a large brass pot on her head filled with water comes slowly up the steps. Light catching, concentrating in ragged highlights on the gold metal. Seven men pass, the