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By Amit Sengupta
Soon after Muni ki Reti at Rishikesh, the river disappears into the holy domesticity of the holy city. Up until this point, the water still shines, shimmering as it moves into the rocks, crosses its own hidden and fierce currents, and heals your skin and soul and eyes with its infinite restlessness and gurgling music. With the blues of its rippling kisses caressing your body, you don’t want to really die. Do you want to die, the river will ask you. Not yet. Not yet, you might say. Yes, as Kurosawa said in that epic film, of dying and living and refusing to die: ‘Madadayo’. Literally, Not Yet. Not Yet.