Safety

Delhi Metro is concerned about women's safety.  The signs plastered on the walls remind me of this.

As I approach the "For Ladies Only" sign on the women's metal detector, I already feel the eyes on me.  Three to one the woman responsible for waving the wand will ask me, "Are you a woman?"  Sometimes it is a less threatening curiosity.  When I answer, she will smile and say, "Oh, we were confused," or nod politely.  On other occasions the question comes with a meanness common to all schoolyard bullies who pick on the kids who are different.  I know these guards because they wear not a smile but a sneer.  The question comes loudly and with menace, "Are you a woman?"  The women in line behind me titter or laugh outright and my face gets hot while she waves the wand and finds my curves.  This is the evidence she couldn't see well enough a moment before, the same evidence that keeps me from the men's line where I would promptly be redirected, put through the process again.

When I make my way to the train, I have the mental debate.  If I enter the mixed car when it is crowded, and someone realizes I am not a man, I will potentially be reminded by a leer or a stray hand why the women's car exists in the first place.  If it is not crowded, the stares last the entirety of the ride, possibly driven by curiosity, possibly by judgment.  Maybe if I were not (made to be) so acutely aware of myself as an ambiguous creature, I could write this off as part of being a tourist with blonde hair, but it is too late for that.

Delhi Metro is concerned about women's safety, so I wait near the women's only car where I can feel safe.

A security guard catches my eye and looks me up and down.  I straighten my back so that maybe she will notice slopes and softness, something just feminine enough.  She walks to the left for another angle.  I fail the test.  She berates me and points to the mixed gender car, telling me to leave in front of the group of women who are waiting for the train.  I have gone mute and my face burns and the tears threaten because this is humiliation and it is familiar.  This is not happening once but once again and it has been a long day.  Someone finally tells her, "No, she is a lady" and the guard backs off, but she laughs as she does so because there is no need to apologize.  The mistake is not hers; it is mine.  She keeps staring, along with half of the other women waiting to board the train.

Delhi Metro is concerned about women's safety, but sometimes I take an auto just to avoid the exhaustion of being safe.

Because I am just a passenger here in Delhi, I think of the permanent residents, the butch women, the trans women, the gender queers of the city.  This kind of safety is not for them.  This is the kind of safety that denies their existence.  Will the Delhi Metro build a car for all of those who cannot (will not, do not want to) be defined?

That is the problem.  The solution to issues of sexual harassment is not to stop those who harass but to separate those who are most often at risk, to make them aware of their place apart, to tell them where to be and when and how.  The walls grow taller and any room for variance shrinks and shrinks because if the solution is to separate into boxes, then we must all fit.

As new women enter the car at each stop, the process repeats.

"This is the women's only car."
"I am a woman."
"Oh."

A woman who had lowered part of her hijab to use her cell phone catches my eye and immediately covers herself again.

I realize then: She is as uncomfortable with my presence as I am with her stares.  Nobody is comfortable.  We lock eyes and I am sure that neither one of us feels safe.  We have both been told that this is a space for us, the space for us, and as a result, the space has to meet all of our standards and expectations.  This is an impossibility not recognized by those who made a box to protect women from everything outside rather than ridding the outside of all of those things that make us unsafe. There is no better way to maintain the status quo than to put the responsibility on the victim and not the offender. There is no better way to ensure that those who are vulnerable meet the expected standards, lest they be accused of bringing about their own assault, than to grant them protection through separation and a set of rules for their own good. 

I am reminded by my friends to be home early, to take an auto instead of walking, to avoid walking alone if I can.  These are my responsibilities.  The Delhi Metro has done its job.

Finally we reach my stop.  I am scared but not shocked when the white car pulls up and two men ask me where I am going as I wait for an auto outside the station at just past 10pm.  The auto driver who slows for me is intoxicated but he is the only one who has stopped in the past five minutes.  There is no one else outside the metro and the men are stalled at the corner, still watching me.  This is what I get for having a social life that reaches past dinner time. I take the risk of the auto and their car follows us, pulls up next to us.  They watch me and I reach for my cell phone, just in case, while my auto driver hiccups and tries to negotiate a higher price.  They stay near us for a few minutes before peeling off and I am so relieved even as the hiccups continue.

I think of the woman and her veil, of the queens and queers who do not fit, of the laughter and shame that followed me home along with that white car.

I shouldn't let it worry me.  After all, Delhi Metro is concerned about women's safety.

Weeks Thirty One and Thirty Two: Last Days at TARSHI, Last Days in Delhi

My week in Mehrauli started with a fun Sunday.  I went to see Dedh Ishqiya, a Bollywood film, with a group of friends, but first we had brunch at Rohini, Phoebe, and Jasneet's apartment.  Rohini and Carolyn made delicious pancakes and eggs before we headed to the movie, where I tried to follow along with some educated guess work and a whispered translation from Rohini during particularly important or confusing parts. Afterward we had sushi and ice cream and it was a great day.  I did some grocery shopping and hung around with Rohini and Carolyn before heading home.  Unfortunately I was really not well (again, a familiar story during these few weeks particularly) so I went to bed early with lots of medicine. 

The next two days were my last at TARSHI, and I was really sad about it. On my last day, everyone came together and gave me a beautiful gold bookmark of a ship to carry me forward on my journey.  I have so enjoyed being able to spend time with and learn from the amazing group of people who work at TARSHI and I am so grateful to them for everything.  My time in Delhi was made so much better by being able to head to the office and work with such cool people.  

On Tuesday night I had coffee with Sara and Rohini before heading to Suparna's for dinner.  Suparna's was one of my favorite places to stay, and she invited me back to dinner that week.  It was good to see her and Corinne, who was also there when I stayed last time, and to meet Stella, a new guest.  

The rest of the week is filled mostly with me being sick and heading to the doctor.  I wrote more about that in its own blog post.  Being sick is an unfortunate and frequent part of the story of my time in India.

Anyway, I also managed to schedule and conduct some interviews with quite a few lovely people who were generous enough to share their thoughts and stories with me.  I will transcribe and post those soon (hopefully).  

Being in a new neighborhood, I also took some time to explore and try to prevent myself from going stir crazy.  Mehrauli is one of the oldest neighborhoods in Delhi and it feels much more rural than anywhere else I have stayed in the city.  The view from my window provides a small example of what I mean.

In addition to the animals and greenery, there are winding streets full of shops and houses; they are too tiny for actual cars although brave (and annoying) drivers on mopeds and motorcycles force their way through the crowds and street work.  

I enjoyed walking through Mehrauli but did not particularly enjoy living there at night, when walking by myself was not an option the way it had been in CR Park or Malviya Nagar.  Everyone told me to take an auto, from my landlord to my friends who made little noises of disapproval when I told them I had relocated there.  

The issue of safety in Delhi is always in the back of my mind, and I pay attention when people tell me that I shouldn't walk alone after a certain hour or in a specific neighborhood.  Friends refer to "the incident" (the December gang rape of a Delhi woman on a bus in 2012) or "these things that happen" (sexual assaults and rapes, like the recently publicized attack of the Danish tourist and the regular issue of harassment for Indian women) in conversation or when talking specifically about safety or my safety, and I am reminded of my gender and often hope that people assume that I am a man when I am out at night. 

Anyway all that is to say that I have been more aware of the possibility of assault while in Delhi and more thoughtful about personal safety in Mehrauli, even as I enjoyed living in the neighborhood and getting to know a new place. 

View from my bedroom window at the Mehrauli apartment

Other view from the same apartment window 

That Friday I also attended a documentary screening.  The film focused on gender and education, following the lives and stories of several trans or gender queer individuals.  It was fascinating to hear their stories and to listen to the panel afterward, which covered a number of topics, including schools and the education system as sites of violence.  A lot of the subjects of the documentary did not finish their schooling and told stories of being bullied or intimidated.  

Interestingly, one of the panelists mentioned that schools are interested in and legal able to include information about gender variance where they are not able to do the same with sexuality, so there are several schools that have implemented programs on gender identity and the hijra community.  Hopefully this means that things will progress.  In the meantime, I hope that a better support system for genderqueer and trans people develops.  I also hope that things progress to include information on sexuality, but with the situation with 377 that seems like it will be a very long time coming. 

The film was careful to separate gender and sexuality, which made it particularly interesting to me.  In my own experience here, it has been my gender performance that has caused most of the trouble for me.  While I see it as directly related to my sexuality, I also understand that this is not the case for every person and that separating gender and sexuality is an important part of questioning heteronormativity.  I really enjoyed both the documentary and the panel discussion afterward. 

The next day I went to lunch with Spiros and some of his friends to say goodbye before he headed back to France.  We ate a good meal and had lots of fun talking and it was a good, if sad, goodbye.  I have met so many fantastic people in India and saying goodbye is really difficult.  

That evening I had coffee with Rohini before heading to bed early.  The sickness that would not forced me to cancel my trip to Rajasthan, which I had been really excited about, and i ended up spending Sunday being sick yet again.  Luckily I was able to extend my stay in the apartment so I stocked up on fluids and spent Monday trying to get better. 

On Tuesday I went to a talk on homophobia hosted by Artists at Work, a collective in Delhi.  The talk was held at Oxford Bookstore in CP and it was a great discussion.  Several panelists from various backgrounds including film, academia, writing, and law all discussed homophobia from different perspectives.

The collective showed brief films they had made around Delhi about the issue of homophobia and Section 377 and they had a few performers play music and sing. There were movie clips, fiction readings, and a series of meaningful and important questions from the audience.

There was also this video: 

  

I really appreciated this panel in particular because it focused not on 377 but on homophobia as a social issue and the discussion was not just about legal issues but about how society and culture need to change and how we as people have to work on our own issues with homosexuality in order to create an environment that is accepting and appreciative of diversity. 

During the week I caught up with several friends.  I met with Jasneet for coffee and to do a little work before heading to have dinner with my landlord and his mother, who cooked a delicious meal for us.  Bismay and I grabbed dinner before meeting with a few friends to hang around a talk for a bit. As my time in India grows shorter I am more and more aware of how much I will miss these amazing people. 

I also went to the post office, always an interesting experience.  In Delhi, a man sitting outside the main office packs your box and then sews it up.  When I asked why he explained, "The Indian Post is terrible.  They will break it, so we sew it up."  I sent it home and hopefully it will reach soon, despite the worker sending it to Malolo Drive instead of Makiki Drive, a mistake only evident on the receipt slip. 

On Friday, I relocated to Suparna's for my last few days in Delhi.  I spent Saturday talking and hanging around with friends, going to temple in CP and eating delicious street food.  Jasneet and I had a really great dinner to say goodbye (for now) and I began preparing to leave the city for the last time.

Hanging around in the park with Kaushal and Partha

Sunday was Republic Day, the celebration of the adoption of the Indian constitution and there was a big parade at India Gate.  

I went instead to a protest that followed the same route as Pride, meeting with Vinay and Bismay and walking to the starting point.  Called Reclaiming the Republic, the protest was put together and attended by a variety of groups, including women's rights, disability rights, and gay rights organizations.  We marched and yelled and sang as people clapped and played tambourines.  The march ended at Jantar Mantar, where I attended my first protest in Delhi, and I saw many of the same people give speeches and rally the crowd.  I stood with friends and shouted the only Hindi words I know well, all used in protest chants.  I felt sad but also incredibly grateful thinking about what the city had given me. I said goodbye to some of the people who made me feel most welcome and left with the same bittersweet feelings that always accompany these goodbyes, the pleasure of the experience mixing with the finality of the last hugs and half-packed suitcases. 

Pictures from the protest:

Bismay!

Maya Rao, whose performance art is amazing

Republic Day decorations leaving the protest

The next day I started my mad dash to do a few final things in the city.  I packed most of my stuff before heading to visit TARSHI one last time. We chatted over lunch and I remembered to take a group picture this time.  I gave everyone a final hug and goodbye.  

With the crazy fabulous women of the office: Dipika, Shruti, Anisha, Tanisha, and Jasmine. (Shout out to Ankit, who was not there that day).   

From there I headed to Humayun's Tomb, a gorgeous remnant of the Mughal dynasty.  As I entered the complex, a pair of women asked me to take their photo.  They looked vaguely familiar but at this point, anyone who is clearly a tourist feels a bit like home so I paid no mind.  As it turns out, though, they were members of BETTY of L Word fame.  They're touring India as part of the Arts Envoy sponsored by the US Government.  Allison and Elizabeth were both really nice and we traded photos and talked about travel and experiences in India so far.  It was so unexpected and so unexpectedly queer to meet a pair of people who were part of one of the shows that, for all its flaws, made me feel connected to a much bigger community and made me feel better about myself as a person. 

Feather walking behind the tomb

Back view. I somehow missed the ticketed entrance so I did some exploring

Other graves, of whom I do not know

Entrance

With Elizabeth from Betty

Humayun's Tomb

Later that afternoon Bismay and I met in CR Park to eat some Bengali food before heading to a temple to pray and chat for a bit.  We said goodbye early that evening.  It was really difficult.  Bismay has been so amazing and helped to welcome me to India with far more kindness than I deserved.  

Goodbye selfie 

The next morning I finished packing and said goodbye to Stella and Corinne before making quick trips to the Indira Gandhi House and the Gandhi Smriti.  The Indira Gandhi house is incredibly well done and interesting, full of personal and political information about Indira Gandhi.  The last part of the house is the pathway where she was executed in 1984.  

Inside the house

The pathway where she was shot, now as memorial 

The Gandhi Smriti marks the place where Gandhi was assassinated.  There is a wall tracing rebellion against colonial occupation in India and a hallway full of information on Gandhi himself.  

The spot marking his assassination 

Immediately after visiting, I said goodbye to Suparna and headed to the airport in a flurry, making the transition to Mumbai for Pride. 

I am particularly grateful for: 

1. Everyone who made my time in Delhi the amazing learning experience that it was.  Thank you all so much.  I will leave India with so many memories and a new perspective thanks to y'all.

2. My time at TARSHI and everyone who works there, obviously included in #1 as well

3. Unexpected encounters

4. The reflection that comes with saying goodbye to a city 

Delhi Belly is Real

Because illness has been such a big part of my life in Delhi, it only seemed right to write something about it.  Of course before coming I had been warned about Delhi Belly and given a lot of advice about what to eat, drink, and do to avoid sickness generally.

Thankfully for the first month that I was in the city, I was not really sick.  Aside from some general transition sickness which seemed to have more to do with malaria medication and jetlag than anything else, I was fine and probably a little overconfident about my ability to eat, drink, and be merry.

Pride goeth before destruction.

Major illness number one came after some delicious but contaminated street food claimed its revenge.  Gulguppe, or pani puri, is awesome.  It is essentially hollow little balls of fried bread that street vendors fill with spiced water and potato.  There are different kinds of filling, one more sweet and the other more salty, and I like them both a lot.  Before leaving home, the always wise Esha told me to avoid gulguppe from street vendors and for a while, I did.  Then I didn't. And I paid.

Unfortunately after that I seemed to be unable to last a full week without some virus or another.  I missed work, meetings, outings, and many parts of being a human being for days at a time.  There were several low points, and I am conflicted about which takes the title for most pathetic, but I think it is probably the train ride back from Rishikesh when whatever heinous virus it was took hold and left me a fevered and shivering mess trapped in the train compartment with a happy family and a businessman, all unsuspecting and undeserving of the germs undoubtedly emanating from the pitiful creature across from them.

The sickness is annoying mostly because it makes me unproductive and removes me from the people and places that I enjoy and that make being here so great.  It is the kind of sickness that prohibits almost anything but sleeping or half-watching/half-ignoring whatever might be on tv or one of the movies downloaded to my Kindle.  There is no productivity except what little comes from the working thoughts and concepts through fever brain.  It would seem that given the fact that I could not leave my room for days at a time, I might have been able to catch up on blog posts or emails or anything really. My inability to sit with my head in one position or look directly at any kind of screen made that impossible.

Happily most of these illnesses only lasted a few days and not weeks at a time like in some of the stories told to me by other travelers, including one poor guy who got typhoid and ended up with a major scar from the surgery he needed while here.

The exception was a determined sinus and respiratory issue that I still cannot shake.  I was forced to cancel a trip to the Jaipur Literary Festival and extend my stay at the Mehrauli apartment in Delhi, and I spent a few days being as close to a hermit as I could be because even the walk up and down my stairs left me wheezing and coughing so hard that I was left heaving on the roadside.  Attractive.

After several attempts to visit the doctor with no luck (the hours are still beyond my comprehension), I finally made it to a doctor in the neighborhood thanks to my landlord, Shubhneet, who is wonderful and super helpful.

Going to the doctor in different countries has been really interesting and unfortunately, necessary.  Most everywhere, a pharmicist, also called a chemist, will suffice because they are allowed to give medicines that at home require a prescription.  In Buenos Aires and here, visits to more traditional hospitals or offices have been necessary.

I arrived at the office in the evening because the hours are from 6pm to 9pm and I was handed a number from a nurse and told to wait.  The office was full and there were lots of people and families waiting for their number to be called.  There were a fair number of little ones and many of them were fascinated by me and my hair. One baby in particular was very fussy and one of his caretakers would walk him around and point to me to distract him.  Normally I do not enjoy staring and pointing, but this I did not mind.

The doctor called my number and I entered his office to wait to be seen.  I anticipated a private visit.  This did not happen.  Instead I waited with two other patients while the doctor spoke to another patient from his desk right in front of us.  He asked the problem and conducted the examination in full view of everyone in the room.  He used a flashlight and with me, a lot of gesturing and a few key words (fever, sinus, cough, breathe) to diagnose.

After some nodding and pointing, I left with a prescription for an antibiotic for the sinus infection and three other medicines to deal with my symptoms and the respiratory stuff. It was not a traditional visit but I left with medicine and a bill under five USD, medicine included, so I was definitely not complaining.  Had I had another medical issue, the public examination might have been strange, but because it was sinus and chest, I felt fine about it.

Although I am still not totally well, I am feeling better and less useless and am hoping to keep this level of wellness, at least, until I leave India.

I have learned from being sick this often and now have more confidence in my ability to take care of myself and to deal with whatever circumstance while being sick.  Still I am looking forward to a time when I am not so worried about it.

Week Thirty: Varanasi, January Protest

I started the week sick with whatever virus manifested on the train back from Haridwar and unfortunately had to miss a day of work while recovering.  Of course everyone at TARSHI was really nice about the whole situation and after a lot of sleep and fluids I was fine to get back to work on Tuesday.  

It was my last week in Dr. Puri's house so I spent a fair amount of my free time cleaning and packing up all of my stuff.  A note on housing in Delhi: It has not been easy to find a place that is not either crazy overpriced or without things that I refuse to compromise on at this point, like a bathroom, proximity to a metro or a location in or near the neighborhoods where I work and attend meetings.  Short term housing is often difficult to negotiate because no landlord wants someone who will not sign a lease and no flatmates want to deal with constantly finding someone new.  

For those reasons, I was lucky to find this guest house but I was  not sad to be leaving for a new location.  It is in a nice neighborhood but between the mouse that was my roommate for the majority of my time there, the multiple articles of clothing that went missing in the wash (only really matters because I have essentially three pairs of pants and five shirts total), the problems with water, the unreliable wifi (only matters because I was being charged for it in the rent), the noise, and the rudeness I experienced when trying resolve these issues, it was time for a change. Another benefit of the Watson is that I am learning how to deal with a variety of housing, rent, roommate, and landlord issues that will no doubt be a part of my life at home.  By the end of this year, I will have paid rent in many different places and under so many circumstances that I will feel much more comfortable trying to work through these issues in the future.

Rohini, Jasneet, and Phoebe were nice enough to keep my big pack while I traveled to Varanasi for two days, so on Tuesday I dropped my stuff at their house and a group of us headed to the Ethiopian Embassy to eat dinner at the Ethiopian restaurant inside.  It was my first time to eat Ethiopian food, and it was delicious and so much fun.  It was another of the moments when I was conscious of how many fantastic people I have met here and how lucky I am to be able to spend time with them.    

The next day I finished packing up before heading to shop for Nehru vests with Jasneet and Carolyn.  There is a men's tailor in Connaught Place that has a great selection, and I ended up with a really cool vest that I cannot wait to wear. 

That night I took the overnight train to Varanasi.  It left late, and so I anticipated a late arrival but I did not anticipate eight extra hours on the train.  The very nice man sitting across from me who was a professor in Varanasi kept saying, "Two more hours," which was helpful except that it happened every two hours for six hours until we finally arrived in the city. It was only disappointing because my trip was already short and because of the late arrival, I had less than 24 hours in the city. 

I will preface my discussion of that time by saying that the 24 hours were full of great new people, delicious food, and a beautiful place different from anywhere else I have visited.  

Before leaving, I had made plans to meet up with Anna and Nyk, two travelers who posted about their trip in the Queer Couchsurfers group of which I am a member.  I was really excited to see a post about Varanasi that matched with the dates I would be there.  Nyk an Anna's train had arrived late as well so we made plans to meet later in the afternoon and walk to an aarti and grab some food. 

Varanasi is fantastic in part because most of the city can be reached by walking along the river.  There are several ghats, or areas meant for people to wash and bathe in the river, and they provide a walking path from one end of the city to another.  I met Anna and Nyk at a ghat near to both of our hotels and we walked to Dasaswamedh where the big aarti is held every night.  The aarti was beautiful just has it has been everywhere, and we offered pooja on the river before leaving to try a lassi restaurant recommended in Lonely Planet and eat some excellent street food. 

The view from the balcony of my guest house.  Assi ghat, the last in the line of ghats along the river.  Later in the trip our boat guide told us that Varanasi is a combination of the names of the rivers around the city, Varuna and Asi, close to Assi ghat.

There are boats all along the river giving tours and allowing pilgrims to travel between ghats and offer pooja. 

Walking the ghats in the evening.  There was street art along a few of them. 

Gandhi and Mandela

The aarti at Dasaswamedh:

Burned offering near my feet

Nyk, Anna, and I offered pooja

We stopped at the Blue Lassi and shared a variety of flavors. It was delicious.  In India I have grown to appreciate lots of new foods that at home I generally avoid, including yogurt.  

It began to rain on our way back so we walked the ghats in bad weather but got to see lightning reflected on the river. 

The next morning we took a boat ride on the Ganges at dawn.  I met Rebekah, who was also staying at my hotel, in the lobby, and we walked down to the river with our guide and picked up Nyk and Anna along the way.  The fog was heavy, so we didn't see the sunrise but we did see all of the ghats from the river, and it was beautiful.  We passed the main burning ghats, where people come to burn family members.  Varanasi is a holy city, and many people visit to wait for their death so that they may die and be burned there.  I saw several bodies being carried through the streets to the river to be burned.  

There are many times during the year where I become conscious of the level of compartmentalizing that I must be doing in order to keep going at this clip without being overwhelmed by some of the things that I have seen.  Seeeing dead bodies in Varanasi gave me one of those moments.  It is not a normal experience but I could not afford to let myself take the time that I might have in another situation to process that reality. 

After the ride, Rebekah and I had breakfast at the hotel before exploring the city a little more.  Unfortunately I had to leave on a train early in the afternoon but it was great to spend some time talking to her and seeing more of Varanasi before heading back to Delhi. 

The fog was heavy but it was still beautiful 

Passing the ghats and historical homes and buildings of Varanasi along the river:

Goat on a ledge.  Loved it so much I took a picture. 

Building a ship on the shore. 

On the bank of the river

During our walk along the river later that day, Rebekah and I saw lots of people and animals, and goats in shirts and sweaters always get me, so: 

There are so many stray dogs in India that it's difficult to walk any street without seeing at least one or two.  In some places, like Hauz Khas Village, people come with food and water and the dogs look like they get enough to eat, even if they don't get the affection they would in a home. In other places, it is clear that they don't get what they need.  It took me a long time to kill the instinct to reach out and pet the dogs, but I learned that in Argentina, where there is a similar problem.  In any case, they always remind me of Dixie and I couldn't help but take a picture of this cuddle puddle.

I arrived back early Saturday morning and moved into my new apartment in Mehrauli, a neighborhood in South Delhi near the Qutub Minar.  Living in Mehrauli was a different experience to living in Malviya Nagar or CR Park, but more on that later. 

After settling for a little while, I headed to Connaught Place to join in the protest marking the one month anniversary of the 377 ruling.  A large group gathered near Palika Bazaar to write letters, listen to speeches, and hand out flyers.  We passed out hundreds of flyers with information about the ruling all over CP.  Because CP is a circle, we walkled the whole loop and returned to Palika Bazaar for a candle light ceremony and some singing.  

Anna helping with postcards. 

Waiting to distribute pamphlets.

Gethered in the park above Palika Bazaar

Bismay!

Manvi, Vinay, Partha, and Bismay

Listening to some speeches

Pamphlet distribution time

Candlelight vigil 

Afterward, I went with several lovely people, including Nyk and Anna who had happily also come to Delhi that morning, to eat dinner and have a beer.  It was a great way to end the evening and mark a return to Delhi and a new place. 

All of the photos came out blurry but here I am with Soumya and Anna.  Not sure where Nyk went.

This week I am thankful for: 

1. A chance to see and explore Varanasi 

2. Nyk, Anna, and Rebekah

3. Emma Fesperman and her Varanasi recommendations. Thank you so, so much!