By Raqs Media Collective, Anselm Franke and Hilla Peleg, Adam Budak
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2 How was Chettiar to make sense of his present, when he had witnessed how fragile it could be? Chettiar’s fever arose from the desire to be in close contact and silent harmony with those who had gone before him. It consisted of a love for time, a love that was nonetheless acutely aware of how fickle and unforgiving this particular lover could be. 84 The Ethics of Dust Jorge Otero-Pailos 85 86 87 88 The Afterlife of Industry Gelatine from pig bones is used to help insert the propellant – cordite or gunpowder – into bullets.
Or as if they are totems to keep the evil spirit away. The dates on these bags were hidden beneath layers of dust. Shivram cleared the dust with the tips of his fingers. 2001, 1999, 1998, 1995. The door creaks and shuts. It has now been eight years since he began climbing up to this roof. Rain or hail, nothing has ever been able to stop him. Shivram’s eyes swept over the room. Along a black bundle hung a sari, here a knife, here a waistcloth. One black bundle was fat, another thinner than the others.
She was laid beside cremation lot number 9, the place that had been assigned to her. Her body was placed over the pyre. Those who accompanied her slowly began to move away, and sat down on the benches by the room where they keep the objects left over from a cremation. The pyre continued to burn. There was a time when the roof was not all he had. The courtyard was open to the sky. It was past midnight, and there was no sign of sleep in his eyes. The drum beat loudly. Voices sang. Among these, another voice—but it didn’t sound like someone was singing; it sounded like a beast letting out a wail.