Take a train from one Indian city to the next. Squeeze through the aisle, dodge a man selling chai from huge kettles and pause near the toilets, where a man is spitting red chewing tobacco into the sink. When he moves, dart to the open door, grasp the worn metal handles and lean out. The wind pummels you, knocking back your fears and thoughts and desires, leaving you nothing but ragged and raw life. You soar through the Indian countryside, one hand clutching the handle and the other outstretched, stroking the delicious air. Continue reading →