Subway India

Subway India Michael Lee Johnson Every two to three miles you’re in India again¾ in another subway store in a back room and you will find a recent family camping out there faking fraud visas doing final touch up on work permits and figuring out how to avoid taxes; or get the next boat load over to start a new store. $650 worth of retail sales a day feeds a family of six for a week. Incense ruminate and permeate over and over again, creep out as silk smoke to the front counter area, merges into my spicy Italian sandwich. Daily they work, waiting for work or life to end. They ship back the lifeless bodies to India to float freely in the Ganges River intertwined in memories, hopes, and fears. Relatives congregate on it banks, bathe, place the body on a wooden float, pull twigs and river grass from the river bank, light the fire, incinerate the charcoal, float the body, toss remnants into the river, turn faces down and walk away. The Ganges is a sacred cesspool. Back at the subway store a new day begins. A time tested ritual continues. -2008-