This is deep India. Crowded, lovely, the India of merchants who fling saris and sheets while you sit and drink tea on their cushioned floor, and try to make your decisions.
Hopefully I will get out with a camera in hand, but for now, imagine the house that we are staying in with our dear friends, in a rare peaceful spot beside the Ganga. A house from the raj era, crumbling curved white archways surrounding a courtyard with a mango tree presiding over it. Power only sometimes, tea several times a day, hibiscus flowers and bourgainvillea climbing the walls. Yesterday there was a monsoon rain and running across the quickly flood courtyard, instantly sodden, I felt that I was at home.