That's Sursugar at night, just outside the gate to the old city and the main bazaar. The Performing Arts Faculty,  my formal, though loose, connection sits in the dark across the lake in this photo. Arriving there the other morning, Ben and I watched  public workers load an elderly dead man, shroudless, into the back of a municipal vehicle. Rigor mortis had caught his arms bending at the elbow forming right angles to his body. He must have died on his back, reaching for the sky.

This kid's asleep on the street. He picked a good spot - there's a fire station just across the street, with firemen lounging on the sidewalk out front. Two blocks away thousands of people are dancing garba (playing garba) as part of the nine day Navatri festival.