Thomas Kelly
Sadhus are an enigma to me, living the mystery of ancient questions that have no answers. Tricksters, derelicts, madmen, charlatans, wanderers, mystics and yogis, their boldly painted bodies confront us with essential questions at the heart of existence. I found them wandering through crowded polluted urban centers begging, to villages and what is left of forest and mountain pilgrimage trails. Like walking mysteries of the human soul, for me, sadhus provoke miultiple questions: Who am I? What do I need? What is really important? They also reflect the more ancient pre-settled desire to wander in search of god. Most importantly, they remind us that the answer for all things only lies within our own elusive hearts.
In my adopted home of Kathmandu, some sadhus survive primarily off alms made from allowing tourists to photograph them. They are a spectacle and love to play their assigned role in the illusion or drama of society. Their masks are thickly painted on their naked bodies. Sadhus have formally abandoned conventional time; their world is dense with its own complex politics, social hierarchy, taboos and customs, often making access challenging.
55