I have been reflecting on all of the remarkable things that have already unfolded in my short time here. Remarkable being relative, of course, since they are everyday occurrences for those who live here. I am still surprised when I see a family of four riding on one motorcycle, often one child sleeping in its mother's arms, or when I see a woman driving, or when a herd of brightly painted cows are blocking both lanes of traffic. I imagine I will forever "ooh" and "ahh", marveling at the brilliant saris and salwar kameez, and the beautiful women wearing them. I have come to rely on my morning wake-up call from the men outside selling fresh fruit, jugs of milk, bags of flour, cartons of eggs. All of these things, so natural in the daily life of Indians, offer small reminders of the very different world I am so fortunate to be experiencing.


Something happened to me today for the first time since I have arrived, something I was warned about regularly by friends who have travelled here. I expected it to happen much earlier in my trip, and more frequently, but today was the first heart-wrenching encounter. Katie and I went to a large market (we try a new one everyday), and during our browsing, two little girls, probably about 5 and 6 years old, began begging quite aggressively. They were tapping me, speaking in Hindi with a few "Yes, ma'ams" and "Thank you, ma'ams" thrown in, their desperation palpable. They followed us for a long time, and it appeared to me that they were being watched and followed by a gentlemen, likely their "pimp". Katie nor I looked in their eyes, as it would have made it all the more difficult to keep on walking. And neither of us gave them anything.

We have mulled over the appropriate response to situations like this, consulting Indians and Expats alike. The general consensus is that giving to children often means feeding the terrible cycle of kidnapping, and "pimping" kids out, much like you saw in Slumdog Millionaire. An Indian-American friend of Katie's said that she keeps individual serving packets of biscuits in the car, and hands them through the windows when beggars come tapping on the windows in traffic. We plan to do the same for our car rides, but for now, I look away when they tap on the car windows, grateful that my sunglasses conceal the sadness and pity that they conjure. As far as the more direct begging that I experienced today, I am not so sure. I have been in touch with several folks, both Indians and Expats, to develop an understanding of the most effective NGOs with which to volunteer - my alms to the poor.

Well, enough rambling. Sending love all around.

Namaste, Friends.