12. Aarti

For the installation, in which I intended to define my own body as a location, as my place in the world, I had developed a concept, imagining that I would realise my work in one of the Ghats as a video and as a textile object. Shortly after my arrival in Varanasi, I headed to the Assi Ghat and from there walked along the river to find an appropriate place for this work. Each of the eighty Ghats has a different aura, and from the first visit onwards I felt particularly attracted by the Thulsi Ghat. A pair of stairs lead down to the water, and one leads upward to a building that stretches along its full length. Between the two stairs are three tiny shrines, containing statues of gods. The shrines open towards the river, and seen from the walkway above, they look like simple sockets.

I sat on top of the middle shrine, facing away from the river, and looked straight into the entrance of the building behind it. To the left and right of the entrance, a woman had installed herself in two small niches. In one of them she had set up a kitchen, made up of several clay pots, a pan, a plate and two tin cups. To make fire, she collected wood at the river bank, and she took water from there in a bowl. In the other niche, she had set up a sleeping corner with saris and old clothes. She hung her saris for drying over the Thulsi Ghat name board, with the others she shielded her entrance from looks.

On the same Ghat lives a man as well, not her husband. She is a Sadhu, alone on her spiritual journey. He was usually sitting down near the river, together with a group of men who often argued in loud voices and started a fight every now and then.

Not far from this entrance I intended to set up my camera for my video work. I sat there for long periods and observed the coming and going of people and animals, and the river beneath them, and that is how I came into contact with her. Aarti is a beautiful woman of about 40 years. She does not speak English, hence our communication was via gestures and by being together.

 

A few days later I returned to Thulsi Ghat with Alessandre, who helped me record the video performance. During this performance, I noted with red pens on a white object whatever occurred during that time at that place. I wrote directly on my body as well, and due to its softness the writings turned into a jumble of lines and letters. The object covered the ground around me, so I found myself in my own small space; later, I would installe it as a walk-in space. I sat for about three hours in forty degrees Celsius, observing all the events and noting them on my body. Meanwhile, Aarti sat in front of her shelter and followed the performance in its full length.
    A few days later, when I was sitting at the exact same location, she came down and sat next to me. We looked into each other's eyes while she fanned the air for both our faces. I continued visiting her with gifts of apples or mangoes, sitting with her on the stairs in front of her modest home. Once she came out with a cloth bundle, which she had kept near her bed, opened it and showed me her two books. One was full of colourful images of Hindu gods and goddesses, and she explained the Hindi text, and sang some of it to me.

When I visited her a few days later, no saris were hanging in front of her entrance. The kitchen was in a mess. The bed had been burnt and small liquor bottles were lying everywhere. I sat for a while and tried to imagine what happened, and then left.

A few Ghats further down she walked into me, I had not recognized her immediately. She was thin and had cut her hair very short. We sat down together on one of the stairs, and she showed me the treasures she had with her: a flower garland, a bit of flour, rice, half a coconut, which she wanted to give to me. I took a small piece and returned it. Then she showed me her injuries - she had burns on her legs and abrasions. From her gestures I could conclude that the man living on Thulsi Ghat had been drunk and had become aggressive, trying to burn her in her bed. She had been able to flee, went to a hospital and then to an ashram. She made a very weak impression. I gave her some money and she turned towards Thulsi Ghat. She wanted to return to her shelter, move back into her niche and continue her life as a Sadhu.
    I was relieved to have met her alive, but shocked about the events. Stories of saris catching fire, declared as home accidents, are read and heard here every day. But this was not a note in a newspaper, it was not a second hand story. It happened to a real woman, to Aarti.

Two days later I returned to Thulsi Ghat. Colourful saris hung in front of her entrance. Aarti proudly demonstrated her cooking to me, her store, her clothes and her sleeping corner. For an hour or so she rambled on in Hindi - about herself, about her life, about crossing the river. Then she picked a small booklet and sang some of the texts to me. Important for her was to stress the fact that she is a Sadhu, that she wants to be alone, and she emphasised it with a gesture towards the inside. She did not seem angry, but sad, fragile.