In an age defined by acceleration and constant novelty, India emerges not merely as a nation, but as a space outside of time—a convergence of the eternal and the ephemeral, the material and the spiritual. It is less a geographical place than a dimension of the soul, a cultural enigma that continues to inspire travelers, poets, and seekers. This enigma is poignantly portrayed in the 2022 Italian documentary Verso Benares, a visual meditation along the sacred Ganges River. More than a film, it becomes a philosophical inquiry into circular time—a concept that challenges the Western notion of linear history and invites viewers into a cyclical experience of existence.
Verso Benares departs from conventional narrative form, embracing a circular structure that mirrors both the eternal flow of the river and the rhythm of Indian cosmology. This narrative choice allows the viewer to enter the cultural and spiritual landscape of India without the constraints of chronology, as if time itself had given way to presence.
This approach finds a kindred spirit in the writings of the French author Pierre Loti, especially in his reflections on India, such as those in L’Inde (sans les Anglais). Rather than offering a structured travelogue, Loti composes a series of poetic impressions, dreamlike and evocative. His India is not documented; it is intuited. Like the film, his work dissolves linear time and invites the reader to drift through a suspended world.
Both the documentary and Loti’s prose suggest that India does not simply have history—it is history, lived cyclically rather than chronologically. The events and rituals encountered are not markers of progress but echoes of eternal return, variations of the same sacred theme played out in different keys.
At the heart of this worldview lies the Indian concept of Samsara, the endless cycle of birth, death, and rebirth. Time, in this philosophy, is not a straight road but a wheel—an unbroken circle where each life is both a repetition and a renewal. While the film never lectures or defines this concept explicitly, it evokes it through imagery: the chants, the fire, the water, the faces in meditation—all elements of a deeper rhythm, one that resists measurement.
In contrast to the modern obsession with urgency and documentation, Verso Benares offers a moment of contemplation. Its visuals dwell on the silent gestures of pilgrims, the smoke curling from sacred fires, the slow unfolding of rituals. These are not mere aesthetic choices—they are philosophical statements. Loti, too, pauses on seemingly trivial details: a flicker of light, the shadow of a temple, the movement of air. In those details lies the metaphysical substance of the journey.
Ultimately, both the film and Loti’s writings offer alternative ways of knowing India—and of knowing time itself. Rather than explaining or analyzing, they invite. They open doors into other dimensions, where presence matters more than sequence, and where the past is not behind us, but beside us. In this, they serve not just as works of art, but as meditative tools—silent guides toward a world beyond history.