I love India.....I hate India.....I love India......

Some days I can't believe that I'm here. I have to pinch myself to realize that I'm halfway across the world in India. If a pinch on the arm doesn't work, the sight of cows roaming the streets or the stench of freshly hacked chickens in the market definitely does. I'm in such awe of how beautiful the colors are, how friendly some of the people are and how diverse the culture can be. Everyone always thinks of America as the "melting pot" country, but now that I've experienced India, I beg to differ. In India, there are countless languages spoken (a different language spoken in every state), many religions and festivals practiced, and so many different cultures just melding together. Since Mumbai is one of the biggest cities in India, I have certainly had the chance to see the melting pot at work. All different castes/social classes come together to function as one society here.

Today when I was in a rickshaw going to pay my internet bill, the notion of different castes functioning in one society really hit me....literally. At a red light, two street children came up to my rickshaw and started to beg for money. Now these children were dressed in rags with their hair all matted and scruffled and looked like they hadn't had a bath in days. If this was my first day in Mumbai, I might be more lenient to give them money. But now, I know the story and drill. If these children get any money from foreigners or passersby, they will probably give the money to their parents, who will in turn buy drugs or alcohol with it. For this reason, I don't give money to any beggars. Every day, I must have at least ten to twenty different adults and children come up to me asking for money. But today, this really popped my bubble and ripped my security blanket to shreds. After I told these two children that I wouldn't give them money, they started to climb into the rickshaw with me and pull at my pants and top. I couldn't believe it! The rickshaw driver did nothing and said nothing to make them go away. I told them firmly "no" many times and all they would do was keep dancing around the rickshaw and get back into the rickshaw with me. I was scared! One of the children started to talk to the rickshaw driver (probably in Hindi or Marathi). It was at this point that I really wanted to know the language. Even just to impress them and shock them out of their wits. Finally, the light turned green and the children hopped out of the rickshaw and left. But for those few minutes, I couldn't believe what was going on. I yearned, and still yearn, for my own personal space and bubble. It is one of the things that I can't wait to have when I come home. It's one of those things that you don't realize that you'll miss until it's gone.

Just another day in India...