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Journey to India
Chapter 2 We were starting to disembark the plane in New Delhi—our almost-final destination. Slowly, so slowly, weary passengers stumbled around groping for their belongings. It was 4 AM and I hadn’t really slept for two days—or was it three? What time was it back home? Were my children at school or was it even a school day? I couldn’t remember. The hot, suffocating air from outside pushed in on us, crowding us as we tried to move, or even breathe. As we groped our way down the stairs—for there was no airport corridor here!—we could feel even more intense heat radiating from the pavement below. It felt like we were standing on a stove-top. We began to choke from acrid air filling our lungs. What was that strong aroma?
From my Photos...Women and Children Working in the Streets of Delhi
The population of India has recently crossed the one billion mark, and is only the second country in the world—behind China—to do so. There are approximately 324 people living within one square kilometer. With that kind of density the problem of dealing with human and animal excrement becomes paramount. So they burn it, day and night, in mountains and mountains of what we more delicately refer to as ‘dung’. And it smells pretty bad! The smell gets into your hair, and your clothing. It clings to the skin and even stings the eyes. And there is no getting away from it. But the good news is that one gets used to it and it seems to disappear. After the suffocating heat and such, the next thing to take our notice was the level of bureaucracy. Red tape covers everything, and Indian men seem to derive some sense of gratification from their rubber-stamp dealings. To my chagrin, I was suddenly immersed in their bureaucratic paperwork, for my luggage had not been unloaded in Delhi as it should have been, and was sent to Hong Kong instead. I was already sleepwalking, and then had to fill out numerous forms in triplicate and then do it again somewhere else. I was directed to one person after another and was obliged to tell the same story to each one. After an hour of paperwork I was free to leave the airport with my carry-on, in the hopes that I would some day see my luggage. Indeed, I did… but only seconds before boarding a jet to the Himalayas three days later.
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