I'm here in India again. It seems somewhat calm and sedate compared to previous times being here. The traffic was light, the airport orderly and everything mostly in working order (except the internet connection at the hotel.)
Oddly, and somewhat sadly, the wild scrub growing on the vacant lot was burnt down and cleared out in the last three months. The squatters farming the land were run out about six months ago and the fields went fallow. Now they're cleared out and its just dry, dusty, brown land scattered with inordinate amounts of refuse. A single makeshift shelter is up by the major thoroughfare going past the office. Its interior was pitch black and there was only a narrow, sheet metal lined tunnel leading into the darkness. It seemed mysterious and adventurous in a way, though I know what to expect inside and am completely uninterested.
Meanwhile I'm safely behind the razor-wire and armed guards. India is such a strange and incredible place. Kipling makes more sense these days.
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