Smoke rose up and filled the air. Wood was piled on each individual fire and the faithful threw in their libations of ghee and spices. The smoke from so many fires, filtered up through the bamboo structure and rose as a huge cloud, filling the air of the neighbourhood and beyond, with the unmistakeable aroma of cooking fat. "It's very auspicious, it purifies the air" he said with satisfaction. I couldn't help wondering why the odour made me feel physically sick and induced a headache. I wondered afresh at how they could spend so many hours in the heat and dust, tending the fires. But then, here, in this culture, I am struck every day with the triumph of man's spirit over material hardship and the will to survive against all the odds. Their devotion to a concept beyond physical reality, is what defines them.
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