Babas of India

While walking across India, I met thousands among the millions of wandering nameless babas. As they most likely saw a fellow pilgrim in me, they always consented to let me take a photo of them, whether I gave them a little money or not. Some had a beautiful vibe; others had a very dark, destructive one.

Although puzzled by my presence and sight, they seemed to feel an affinity with what I was doing or maybe recognized in my eyes the spark of the Seeker, the thirst for Truth.

Or, who knows, they simply were so confused by the self-evident madness of a white guy pursuing a dream made of dust on the roads of India that they thought it would be wiser to play along.

Part beggars, part mystics, part hustlers, Babas are men wearing orange, red or black robes cracking the rotting, flower-scented flesh of the immense country by walking, car, bus, motorcycle, airplane, rickshaw, hitchhiking, moving in every direction like drunk ants on a board game.

Visiting all the sacred sites or spending their whole lives in a no-name village under the same tree under which the divinity manifested to them, or simply where life is easier. Most of them living thanks to the generosity of the others, owning nothing but a bowl, a stick and a blanket, smoking weed someone cultivated for them.

At the end of the day, they never go hungry even though they probably have no idea where the next meal will come from when they wake up. Sleeping in temples, on sidewalks, under trees or in hotels paid by rich, often unsuspecting, foreign benefactors, at least the most charismatic ones who speak a little English.

Some of them are simply men who at some point chose between living as beggars or wearing a robe and acting enlightened to make a living off the devotion of others. Some of them live on the fat baksheesh paid by travel photographers who pay them to pose for cliche photos because they have a look that is Instagram-friendly.

Some of them are Gods incarnated or speak daily to the millions of elephant-headed, monkey-headed, blue-skinned, flute-playing Gods.

In India there is everything, there is nothing and all that is in between.