There is no Gadra. The name of this place has been changed for security reasons. We took a taxi from the YMCA to the New Delhi train station where the express was ready to go south. We left right on time in a nice coach. We paid a little more for this level of service and received several snacks, meals and beverages. By Western standards it was not terribly expensive. A comparable train journey in Europe would have been several times more costly.
Sally’s plane arrived late, and she and Leena had arrived at the train station with only 10 minutes to spare – after some prayer for timely arrival. It turned out that some Pakistani airspace had been closed and her aircraft coming from London had needed to take on more fuel because of a greater travel distance.
The images that flowed through my window as we rolled across India are stark in my mind: poor people picking up bottles for some small income, hovels, cattle tied to stumps, green fields, birds, cell phone towers, broken down villages, slums, and always, everywhere, people, people, people.
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