Night with Pabuji

A phad is not hung like a painting. It is raised after dusk, on ground that has been swept and sprinkled. The bhopa’s red robe, the bells on the ravanhattha bow, the bhopi’s lamp: these are the conditions under which Pabuji is present.

When a scroll is worn through, it is immersed at Pushkar. That ending is part of the work. A collection that only preserves the cloth, and never the night, has kept the map and lost the journey.