Ram Nam Satya Hai

They passed by in a wild blur of colour and noise, heads tilted up to the dead man carried aloft on a decorated bier. The body was covered except for the feet and head where a large white beard framed an ancient and weathered face. The mourners flowed past the corner where Max and I sat, pausing from our lassis to observe the procession. We heard them before they reached our corner and we could hear them once they left it. “Ram nam satya hai”, they chanted as drums and horns and cymbals blared from their wild party; the dead body, devoid of breath. I turned to Max, “train leaves soon.”
We arrived at the station as the train departed and we watched the white lights recede. We were speechless, until an auto-rickshaw came screeching up beside us, “Hello! I take you to train now!” We threw our bodies and bags in, then shot out of the dark parking lot. I turned to our driver as he navigated the congested mayhem ahead of us.
“What’s your name?”
“Raju!”
“Raju, we haven’t got any money left man!”
“Ok! If you happy I am happy!”
I kissed Raju, he explained that we would catch the train at the next station.
We shouldered our way through the chaos, past water buffalo lying dormant in the dirty streets, past clay chai cups shattered in the congested gutters, past tired souls asleep on the pavement, awaiting sunrise.
“Good news!” I looked up to see Raju pointing toward the lights we had just watched recede. He pulled back on the throttle and we shot forward, coming up beside the train. We maintained this speed until hitting a traffic jam at one of the train crossings. We inched forward, stopped, beeped, turned, inched forward, stopped, beeped, and reversed, the Indian shuffle. Raju hopped from his rickshaw, grabbed a bag and then looked up at us as if surprised, “run!”
The three of us hopped along the train tracks, heads tilted down to the wooden slats connected to the guiding rails, trying not to trip over. Max raced ahead as Raju fell behind. We caught up alongside the train as it slowed into the second station; Raju eventually appeared from the dark tracks drenched in sweat and out of breath. He handed me my bag and we stepped onto the train. “I’ll send you some money man, I swear!”
I lingered at the door while the whistles blew and the brakes lifted. As we started moving I looked back toward Varanasi, catching a glimpse of ashy cloud rising from the burning Ghats. I could still hear the drums and the horns and the cymbals, the wild party, “ram nam satya hai!”