Without enough time to fully process the cremation, the boat drifted downstream, towards a crowd of boats in front of platforms decorated by illuminated umbrellas above. I silently watched as the Aarti ceremony began. Music and light flooded my already overwhelmed ears and eyes. I still wasn’t sure what to think of the ceremony, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off it—the lights, the music, the ritualistic movements, and the colorful wave of people surrounding the platform.

Then, I suddenly got curious about how other people were absorbing this moment. I turned around. Some dumbstruck faces, akin to my own, and a lot that I could not see as they were unexpectedly hidden behind cameras and phones. I asked our local guide if most of the people watching and taking photos or videos were tourists. He answered that there are tourists, but most are pilgrims. I even noticed a man video calling someone to show them the ceremony.

This scene challenged my belief that technology should generally be avoided in holy settings, perhaps a conception created by the no photography signs at some temples and churches. It also made me question why we, whether a pilgrim or a tourist, take photos of holy settings and ceremonies. I certainly did not understand the rich religious story behind the Aarti ceremony and the ceremony’s every gesture that “is special, has order, and a meaning”, according to our guide. I was thereby unable to fully comprehend and appreciate the ceremony. Why was I taking photos and videos of this ceremony then? Was I just in an awe of the spectacle, nothing more?

I can’t answer this question with clarity, because I still don’t know why I am, and most of us are, drawn to capture things that cannot be fully appreciated. But for sure, Aarti ceremony struck me as more than a mere “spectacle”, but that “more” – I cannot describe. So, instead of taking more photos of the ceremony itself, I took a picture of my friends watching the ceremony. A picture of that indescribable “more”.

by Sharon

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