We left Delhi for Calcutta which is now called Kolkata. Steve was a featured speaker at the Indian Menopause Society and I was his bored non-menopausal plus one.
On to Varanasi where we checked into a two hundred year old hotel with so many steps that my PTSD kicked in as visions of Steve falling again haunted my serenity. The staff welcomed us with a yellow dot in the middle of our foreheads (by evening mine was a huge zit) and showed us our room with its panoramic views of the Ganges.
The highlight was watching the cremations. I who once crashed celebrity funerals as a hobby was mesmerized by the burnings. I saw death up so close that as the fires burned I had a profound understanding of the brevity of life. Would I ever again stress about being the Queen of Temporary Loss?