7. A Red Scrap,﷓ Lost and Found

It was later, while watching the video, that I noticed the strict hierarchy of this world of men, and how social and religious affiliation is displayed with clear signs, mainly through the dress codes.
However, perception is always subject to the perspective one takes. A few days later, I returned to the location, intending to photograph my point of view from the Chowk. Someone had left a small red scrap of cloth on the street, and no-one but me seemed to notice it. Motor bikes ran over it, people walked by it, a group of young men stepped on it. The scrap seemed to me to be a leftover from my red saris, a small personal hint.

Standing on the Chowk, observed by all these men around me, a feeling of freedom swelled up inside me. The freedom to be able to stand there, to travel to a foreign land, to encounter the world as an artist, to say «no» to something, to fight for my rights, and all in all, to have a voice. These personal rights are out of reach for countless human beings. Sharing their lives became more and more important for me in Varanasi, and so I started to search for the Human Rights on the Internet, and to read the thirty articles they encompass. One of the most difficult challenges I was facing over and over again, was to distinguish between my lack of cultural understanding on the one hand, and human injustice on the other. Injustices that hurt people are many in this society.