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Traveling Thy at the Taj Mahal, April 2010

I found an irresistibly cheap flight from Saigon to Mumbai a few weeks ago, and you can probably guess what I did. Yeah, I booked it.

Five more days and I’ll be in the land of curry and chai…surrounded by saris and slums…namaste’ing all over the place.

I’m super excited but also a bit nervous. I was in New Delhi earlier this year and it was one of the most raw, offensive and frightening experiences of my life. Just thinking about it brings back a rush of emotions I’d hoped to never feel again.

I’ll never forget the first time I was groped by a complete stranger while walking through a crowded market. It was so fast, I didn’t even realize what happened until the pervert had already disappeared into a sea of saris. My travel companion would later be touched inappropriately to turn around and realize it was by a young boy who couldn’t have been more than 10 years old.

I’ll never forget getting off a rickshaw to be rushed by a man with a knife in his hand and fresh blood dripping from his ankles, begging me for money because he’d just wounded himself specifically for my pity.

I’ll never forget the evil glare of a young man praying at Jama Masjid, as he stood up and pounded his foot on the ground as if to charge at me. Or the rickshaw driver who tried to run down my friend and me, completely unprovoked.

I’ll never forget taking a wrong turn down a dark street to be swarmed by women carrying babies in one arm and trying to grope me with the other. All the while begging for my money and pulling at my clothes.

And all of this was just the first 24 hours.

Being female and foreign in India is apparently reason enough for hostility from men and inappropriate touching by everyone.

Truth be told, I classify my first time in India as a generally wretched experience. My days were spent muttering to myself, “Oooh India, you are testing me…you are testing me goooood.” The extreme poverty, the putrid smells, the groping, the hostility, the fear. I will never forget it.

Why am I going back?

Well, it’s hard to explain. There was something really special about India, something that takes time to reveal itself. Something that can only be realized after you’ve seen just how awful life can be. Something that shows itself after it’s crawled deep under your skin. I didn’t quite reach that point while I was there but I came close. I felt its existence.

I certainly didn’t feel finished with India when I left for my scheduled trip to Nepal last spring. So I’m going back. I want to make new memories there, ones I can feel good about.

My first time around did have some shining moments. A trip to Agra to visit the Taj Mahal was especially lovely, and an escape to the city of Amritsar showed me a truly beautiful side to the Indian culture and its people.

I want more of THAT.

This time I’m going to Mumbai, which I understand is quite different and much safer than New Delhi. I also happen to be going armed with a stronger, experienced mind. Throw in a Bollywood dance class or two, a few bazaars and some pani puris, and I can already foresee a better experience awaiting me. I’m still nervous though! But that’s part of what makes it so exciting.

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