In the heart of Manikarnika Ghat, where fire devours flesh yet frees the soul, a lone Dom walks through the smokeāhis face half-lit by the sacred blaze. He is not merely a worker, but a silent pilgrim of death, entrusted with guiding souls into liberation. In a place most associate with sorrow, he walks with quiet grace, carrying centuries of ritual on his back.
Hope lives hereānot in denial of death, but in acceptance. Renewal lies in knowing that from every ash, something eternal rises.
