I was recently asked why I love traveling. I think answering this question with something like "I like to meet new people and places" or "I find myself when I disconnect myself from everything" is being extremely short and would not express in a proper way why I love traveling, so I will try to explain myself from a different point of view with which I hope to make you see through my eyes.
In March 2014 I made a trip to India with a friend. During the trip I experienced a moment that has been since then engraved in my mind. We were in the city of Pushkar, in the city center there is a sacred lake that we were touring. Shortly before leaving the place we stopped to rest in the shade of a kiosk to hide from the intensity of the sun. Right in front of us there was a sort of a shack, if you can call it a shack , with three walls which were almost in ruins; It had a rusted sheet roof and an exaggerated ornamentation of metal frets, plastic pots, some blankets, a trunk, a ripped calendar, and several stone figures of Hindu deities. The place looked abandoned and resented the passage of time. Among all this chaotic scenario was a man; reddish skin, dreadlocks tied up on his head, a long tangled beard that covered part of his half-naked and famished body, he remained motionless and with his eyes closed. At first sight he would have passed unnoticed as another element of this scene.
After watching him for a while, I decided to approach him and sat down right in front of him. When he felt my presence he opened his eyes and at that moment I was struck by the intense blue of his eyes that contrasted completely with everything around him, after looking into our eyes, he began to move slowly to find a cup of old pottery and started pouring to himself a cup of some tea.
That moment is the one that remains in my head, to see how he moved in a way so slow and subtle that it seemed that the time was not running in that shack, it was a very precise and automatic movement but in a very natural way, seeing it I could only feel the presence of being in front of a immense old tree with a very marked bark, full of leaves and branches that the wind moves in a very delicate and systematic way, like it was a tree that has been for a long time in this earth and could see it clearly represented in each of its features and movements. I literally felt a disconnection with everything that surrounded me and it was like putting reality in a parenthesis where we only existed for a brief moment.
We didn’t cross a single word, not even a simple attempt of communication by signs, none of that was necessary.
After some time, I learned that the person was an ascetic or holy baba, a holy man of the Hindu religion who keep all possible energy and move only for strictly necessary things.
You can see more of Joselo's trip to India in his Instagram page @él_rodapié or check out his collaborator page to learn more about his photography.