Our plan for our trip to Rajasthan

So here's what we're planning (Michael and I) for our 8 day trip to Rajasthan. We leave this Saturday and come back the following Sunday night. This was as dictated excitedly online in a gmail chat:

We leave in a plane on Sat from Kolkata to Jaipur, the capitol of Rajasthan (so the flights were cheapest) and a place we don't reallly care to visit.

We'll get there at 10am and kinda chill, check into our hotel, explore the city, and spend the night

Then the next day we'll either take a 2am train to Agara or a 6:10 am train to Agrara

it'll depend on how we feel

but we kind of want to get to Agara early to see the Taj Mahal before tourists get there, hence the 2am train

Then Sunday we'll chill at the Taj Mahal until like 11pm and then take an overnight train to JodhpurJodhpur is this really bustling cool city filled with old forts and peasant desert folk. Real city life in the desert.

We'll spend Monday there and then take an overnight train (11pm) to Jaislemer

Jaiselmer is the really fucking best, it's the whole reason i want to go to Rajasthan

Its a city in the middle of the desert filled with beautiful old forts and Raja palaces

it is compeltely in the Thar deserrt

and the culture there is seemingly unreal

So we'll get there at 5am on Tuesday and spend all day there and check into a hotel and spend the night

Then on Wednesday we're going to go on a Camel Safari!

And spend the night in the desert

in a tent

so then Thursday all day in Jaiselmer again

and then take a train in the afternoon back to Jodhpur

and then another train to Mt. Abu

Mt abu is this gorgeous lush town on a mountain with good teas and good places to eat etc

and cool jungles to explore

we thought it would be a nice way to end the whirlwind of a trip

ok so Friday we'll get to Mt abu at like noon and spend the day there and spend the night there in a hotel

Then on Saturday we'll spend another day there, and then at night take an overnight train back to Jaipur

then Sunday our flight out of Jaipur is at night

so we can explore the city or whatever until our flight has to leave

It's going to be sooo fucking crazy

needless to say we're telling lab that we're taking off Monday to recoup

The wedding

Tuesday Me, Moumita, and Obeshekda’s wife marched into the lab bathroom with a million bags and lined them all up against the sink mirror. My saree is gorgeous, silk and heavy. I put on some pants, and the Sari blouse (which feels like a corset) and let them drape me with the Sari. Pleats were made, parts were tucked in, safety pins were pinned. It was so confusing. Then I did my hair in a bun and Moumita gave me jewelry to put in it and earrings. I did my makeup and became an Indian. For the rest of the night, people would comment that I looked just like a Punjaby (North) Indian and couldn’t take enough pictures of me. 

 All 8 of us piled into an SUV (the trunk space was converted into seats) and made the very bumpy journey back to Shobroto’s village (stopping only once to take tea). When we arrived (after everyone finished taking more pictures of me and Michael) we were ushered right upstairs to eat. Oh it was delicious. Fresh Salad, fried chicken things, Mutton biryani, Mattar Paneer, Aloo Masala, ice cream, chutney, these balls of dough I forgot the name of, seriously, there were 10 courses. My sari got sooooo tight. After, my lab mates stood up, and thanked Shobroto for the meal and said THEY HAD TO GET GOING!! Apparently, some people had to get home at 9:30, and the ride was 2 and a half hours, so that only left 1 hour at the wedding. Completely missing the ceremony! Michael and I voiced our concern and a plan was figured out for us where we would go home with Shobroto’s roommates back to Kolkata at midnight. Back upstairs at the wedding Shobroto’s mother welcomed me back into her arms, very tightly, and I was given a seat right next to the bride’s throne. The bride was covered in gold from her nose to her feet. Every inch of her was decorated. The ceremony lasted well over 5 hours with each ritual even more precise than the last. The bride was finally taken over to the groom, carried on a large chair, her face covered in leaves. The tradition of her lifted in a chair towards the groom was created when the brides were so young and scared to see their grooms for the first time they needed to be carried there. She removed the leaf and looked into her new husband’s eyes for conceptually the first time. This however was a love marriage (not arranged), so they had courted for a little over a year. A large white sheet was placed over the couple as they ceremoniously placed flower garlands over each other’s necks. I was surprised at how irreverent the whole ceremony was. During the less glamorous parts of the ceremony people talked, ate, and drank loudly. Sometimes forgetting anything was going on at all and walking right through it! During other parts, they pressed their way getting closer to the bride than the groom. The groom was placed before a fire they built (indoors!), his hair wrapped in a turban, and he bent over the flames while holy men chanted over him. The place filled with smoke and got me quite nauseated. After the ceremony was over, the bride and groom were escorted into a guest room and fed their dinners. They talked quietly on the bed but were still completely surrounded by family. But really, when is an actual marriage reverent, quiet and solitary? I know in my family, it took 3 days to shake people from our house before we could get Fiona (my little sister) to ourselves. The marriage ceremony was a lot more real. As is much of Indian culture. Shobroto’s roommates finally showed up, but the car had broken down and was in the town car shop, so they figured they’d just keep eating until it was fixed. I had up until this point been putting off going to the bathroom in dread of undoing my Sari. But I was so desperate. Annnnd I was right. I absolutely couldn’t put the Sari back on. I stood there, in this filthy stall filled with smoke, which was only barely sectioned off from the rest of the room, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. I opened the door and beckoned for the nearest woman. She started cracking up when she saw me and her and her sister wrapped me all back up. 10 of us packed into an SUV and sped through the dark dirt roads back to Kolkata. The men sat with their arms around each other singing whatever hip-hop Bengali songs came on the crackling radio. I sat in the back with the windows open. The night passed with mud huts and patti fields. God where the fuck am I? I could have been in Uganda, Sri Lanka, Sierra Leone. We stopped to chase stray dogs from their sleep in the center of the street. The smoke and the loud singing, and the rollercoaster of a ride made me very sick. The tire blew and we stopped on the EM bypass to change it. The EM bypass, always smothered by cars and noise was vacant. Not a person in sight. The men got out and took pictures in the middle of the rode making crazy poses. I was going to puke. We got home at 3:30. Wednesday I went into lab late under the circumstances. I designed a new experiment where I will collect different lake waters in Kolkata, grow laboratory vibrio strains in them and test the vibrio infectivity on an infant mouse model. After work I went to New Market to haggle myself a new money bag (my current one broke.) I stopped to take pictures at a Union Strike. I shared a coke and dinner with some Australians in the area. I’m such a big shot. With my head bobbing and hand eating skills. With my apartment in Shontosphur. “Oh you’re staying here for 3 days? I’m here for 3 months, I’m researching cholera.” I realized my internet usb connector works anywhere in India. I chatted online during the taxi ride home. “Oh Kevin, I have to go, someone without hands is knocking his head against my window asking for money.” Thursdsay A very productive work day. OR SO I THOUGHT. Then at around 6pm we got a news report that there will be a strike the next day. I was told not to even attempt to come into work. The opposing political party would actively try and oppose the strike. If I went out, I could be mistaken as an opposition. It could, I was told, get very ugly. I should go home, stock up on food, and not leave the house until 6pm when the strike was over. In the meantime I got to throw out all of my experiments from the day—the would all go bad over the time I was not in lab. Disgruntled from a loss of work I told my taxi driver to take me to the South City Mall please! One of the (if not the) biggest malls in India, the South City mall was 3 stories high and packed with stores. I feel almost guilty saying that it was probably the equivalent of only a slightly higher end mall in America. But but but I was completely thrilled and felt indulgent. I went to the food court and bought a pizza loaded with vegetables and ate myself silly. It was bad, duh, but I really didn’t care. Then I went to FAME the movie theater. I figured, this could be my cultural experience for the day—The Movies are almost as important as temples here. It was coincidentally the opening day for Harry Potter so the lines were long. Seeing Harry Potter was the theater to be in I bought one ticket. A large screen is presented to you when you buy your ticket and you actually pick your exact seat. The seats in the front are more expensive and are leather recliners. The concession stands sold gelato, corn and samosas. I got a chocolate gelato and took my seat. The seats were plush and reclined. Before the movie, everyone stood facing the screen, hand to their heart, and sang the National Anthem. No shit. Throughout the movie ballpark style concession sellers sold French fries and Pepsi to the audience. The lights came on in the middle of the movie—Intermission. I thought it was brilliant. It made you appreciate the movie experience more and concession sales I’m sure doubled. When I got home Michael was very sick, and said he didn’t think he could travel to Rajasthan Friday but said we could play it by ear—our tickets could be easily exchanged for another date up until 2 hours before our flight. Being sick on our trip would be horrible as we’re planning a whirlwind of a tour with desert stays and more nights than not on the train. Friday I slept in very late, which at first I thought was due to the complete quiet in the streets due to the strike. But when I woke up I felt like my head was going to explode, had chills, was weak, muscle aches and a fever. We rescheduled the Rajasthan trip for the following Saturday and instead I watched a Tom Hanks marathon and went back to sleep. My lichen planus has become obscenely bad. Anyone who reads this blog a dermatologist? News report. Mom, don’t read this part: (This was from the day before the strike.) India (Country threat level - 3): On 16 July 2009 violent protests erupted in Kolkata and other areas of West Bengal state after members of the Communist Party of India-Marxist (CPM) allegedly attacked senior leaders of the state branch of the Indian National Congress who were visiting a village in Bardhaman district, which is located approximately 60 mi/100 km northwest of Kolkata. Congress supporters set several buses on fire and attacked taxis throughout the state, including in the Minto Park and Gariahat areas of south Kolkata and the districts of Howrah, North 24 Barganas and Murshidabad. Protesters blocked major roads, highways and railways throughout the state. Police officers clashed with protesters in several areas; at least one protester died and several others were injured. The Congress party announced that it will hold a statewide bandh -- a type of general strike in which all business activity and transportation is shut down -- from 0600 to 1800 local time on 17 July. Travelers should expect major transportation disruptions. Travelers should monitor local developments and avoid any areas where protests are occurring The day of the strike there were more bus bombings and taxi attacks. No one was killed, but many were injured.

Shanteniketan

Friday I came into work expecting to go on a field study annnd instead got a message saying the doctors were too busy and had to reschedule. I was so upset I almost started to cry. When I asked the head doctor the day before if I could stay in the clinic longer, he was very vague and said he didn’t know. Then when I asked what time we should meet in the morning, again he was very illusive. I think I blew it. Somehow. I treated myself by taking myself out for lunch. Michael and I are going to Rajasthan this Saturday for a week! We’ve barely planned at all, except for my request to spend some time in the desert. I’m ridiculously excited. Saturday Michael, Moumita, Sreerupa, and two new people from the Immunology department Tonmoi (a man) and Kritika (a woman) boarded a train to Shanteniketan to see the University Tagore created. The train flew by the country and we sat 3 in a row pressed against the windy window. 

 Kritika and Tonmoi were hilarious, very modern and down to earth. They took turns teaching us bad words in Bengali. The train was a circus of entertainment, devastation food and drink. Men passed with huge boiling kettles of milk with the rhythmic calling “coffee, cha, cha, cha, coffee, coffee, cha, cha, cha, coffee!” Men sold towels, and little snacks they concocted in cup and then poured into newspaper for you to eat. Men played music for money and danced. I liked my group. We tasted and listened to everything. Then there were the children. Who sang and then put their hand on my knee and held out their hand “please ma’am please” they were barely audible and very weepy. 

 But it was Michael who they really hounded. If you looked around after giving money, they were busy fighting with each other, laughing and counting the money. They all deserve Oscars. The hermaphrodites came up to your seats and clapped their hands really loud. I was warned of them earlier, if you don’t give them money they can get violent. But no one moved me like the blind. I gave them all money every time. The hotel was beautiful and pink. There were two people per room, but most of the time everyone was in mine and Moumita’s room. We had a quick Bengali lunch of Dal, vegetables, chicken and rice. Which I am so over. And then got into our bike rickshaws we rented for the day and drove to a marketplace. 

 Unlike Kolkata shopping, this was hassle free and completely gorgeous and enjoyable. Musicians and shopkeepers spread out on blankets in a huge field. We ate ice cream as we listened to the tingling music of this one band. When he hit this one note—damn. I felt it in my soul. Needless to say, I bought a cd. All of the shop owners were from Shanteniketan and made all of their items. I’m such a sucker for authenticity and a story. We moved beyond the blankets and explored a huge farmland expanse. I needed it. Kolkata drives me a little crazy. We stood under a tree and screamed at the top our lungs. 

We chased ducks and jumped streams careful not to land in the cow patties. We took the rickshaws deeper into the country and stopped at a mud hut village. Men cutting bamboo, women pumping well water, children darting in and out of their mud huts. 

Everyone is guarded until you smile, then you are surrounded by smiles. We got back to the hotel and had mixed fried rice and mutton for dinner. So full and tired we all lounged/crowded onto my bed and watched Bengali tv. I had promised Tanmoi I would show them all a dance sometime during the weekend—thinking he and everyone else would forget. But they didn’t and demanded a dance. “Just make up something in your head to whatever music we put on.” Ok! I did a few numbers of belly dance, it was awkward, they loved it, and I demanded for other people to entertain the rest of us. Sreeerupa sang, Kritika did a traditional Indian dance and Michael Beat Boxed. The rest of the night I would catch little conservative Moumita trying to Beat Box with a completely concentrated face. At night, Moumita and I lay on our pillows and talked about her “ideal” man. I highly recommended the doctor from the Field Study. Sunday/Monday In the morning, (after they prayed at a Kali temple we passed) we took a car to see the University Tagore created. It was a vast campus with tons of banyon trees and many of its classes held outside. The students ranged from pre-school to PHD and all wore a yellow garb. Everyone made fun of me but I read Gitanjali the entire time to get into it. Anyway it worked, and I felt the magic of his words translate to his school and wanted to give it all up and join them. But instead got on the train to come back home. On the Train ride home Kritkika and I talked about our boyfriends (the first woman I’ve seen with one!) We were right on the same page until she asked “so when are you going to two going to get married?” And BAM I was back in India. Shubrutu’s sister’s wedding is Tuesday so Moumita helped me buy (back in Kolkata) an incredibly gorgeous Saree to wear and a blouse to go with it. Today we got the blouse fitted and bought earrings to go with it. We went to the Ladies Parlour downstairs (from my apartment) and had our eyebrows threaded and nails painted for 50 cents. The Ladies Parlor consisted of two chairs and beauticians who would do whatever you wanted. I made sure to tell Moumtia to tell them I live just upstairs. I’m sure I’ll be seeing them again. 

Field Study

Wednesday/Thursday I began my field study. We drove in a car caravan of doctors to the outposts located at different slums in Kolkata. First we visited some of the slum homes. 24 people lived in quarters the size of my living room. They all shared the same squat toilet, siphoned the same water from the rusty pipe sticking out of the concrete floor (but the water only came on 3 times a day) and cooked their meals on that very same floor. 

 Almost all of the patients we visited either were recovering from or previously had cholera. I felt such a strong connection to the women and children we visited. Many with skin lesions and cross eyes would peek around their scarves to look at me like curious woodland creatures. When I brought out my camera, they all ran away, but when I surrendered the clicker hands up, they came creeping back, babies first. I took a picture of the house and showed it to them. And then a few more. Soon all the women and children were back wanting me to take a picture of them and then show them on the LCD screen. The trick was to take a second picture 2 seconds after the first, when they started laughing from the novelty.

 After when I asked them (with the help of a translator) about their medical history and treatment, they gladly offered their answers. The cholera vaccine is in phase 3 of its development. A phase that requires the testing on thousands of patients. The clinics set the double blind study up giving every patient that came in the vaccine (half were placebos) regardless of ailment, treated whatever they came in for, and then followed their progress over 3 years. The patients they see have every kind of ailment under the sun: Cholera, Dengue, Malaria, Tuberculosis and Leprosy are just a few. India is one of the few countries in the world that still has Polio. MDR (multiple disease resistance) is a huge and deadly problem because the pharmacists give many antibiotics without prescription and then people feel better and stop taking the medicine. Many of the patients don’t understand why they have to give blood or take the vaccine. The doctors bribe them by giving out gifts to every patient. To get the neighborhoods to trust them, they paid for the repaving of many of the slum roads. They still have problems with Muslim women not wanting to be touched by any doctor (male or female) and the doctors unfortunately have given up on many of these women saying “we have enough patients, if they don’t come in then that’s their problem.” The outpost clinics consist of an old computer, a few cases of vials of medicine, a crumbling examination table with makeshift curtain (some have no curtain) and way too many people. I sat with a beautiful doctor in his mid twenties who was doing a separate project, taking blood samples from dengue patients to try and find a vaccine, and talked with him. Actually, it was more like me asking a million questions a second and him graciously answering. I watched him take blood from a woman and process the blood with only thin plastic cafeteria gloves. Her baby was given to a male staffer and looked petrified. I wanted to hold that baby. I wanted to do anything. The time we spend out on the field is only a few hours a day—everyone is afraid I will catch a disease if I stay any longer. It’s so frustrating. When I’m in the clinic all of the troubles of India just vanish. This is worth it. I could do this every day all day for the rest of my life. So what if I get sick? I’m an American they can fix me. Let me stay here, watch more, work here. Maybe that’s a boldness from my undeveloped frontal cortex. And in reality it’s probably selfish of me to want to stay, when I can’t really help, and if I did get sick those doctors could get in big trouble and maybe lose their funding. But regardless the outposts make sense to me. One of the few things in India that does.

Henna and Imambara

Sunday After a lazy day of catching up on sleep, Moumita picked Michael and I up to go to Gariahat with the sole purpose of getting Henna on my hands. On the street I saw a woman give me a double take, not uncommon, but realized it was Jyodi the girl I met on the bus! We talked for a while, I introduced her to Moumita, and we exchanged emails since Michael’s phone was stolen. It was night, and we stopped under a lit cluster of chairs on the sidewalk. I looked up a design in a book and two men took each hand and rapidly made the design spread to both underside and top of my hand to mid arm. So cool. I feel like a pretty pretty princess. 

 Except now my watch looks really out of place, so I took it off. Not knowing the time is not only going to take a toll on my sanity, but my lab co-workers (the lab has no timers) always ask me to time experiments—most do not have watches of their own. edit:: Practicality won over vanity and I now wear my black swiss army watch over my henna.  Monday/Tuesdsay Dr. Duran came from the HHMI program at UF to check up on Michael and I and see how we were doing. We took off Tuesday to show Dr. Duran around. Even though we left an hour early to meet the driver and car hired by the Institute, in typical Indian fashion, we were still an hour late to pick Dr. Duran up at his hotel. We rushed to a meeting with the head of Fullbright Scholars in India. After introducing our projects and ourselves, we were asked to participate in helping mentor Fullbright Scholars from India. Before we left, Michael and I were invited to attend a cultural performance at the center the following night. Back in the cab and after a quick stop to grab sandwiches and delicious delicious non instant coffee at Barrista (the Starbucks of India), we made our way on the winding 2 hour road out of Kolkata into the town of Hooghly. In the car ride, besides of course looking out at the emotionally beautiful Indian countryside, I was able to pick Dr. Duran’s brain on graduate school and Public Health Programs. He gave me invaluable advice, contact people and encouragement. Just last year I would never have been able to put myself out there like that, asking for help from such an important person. But I’ve grown a lot, and maybe it’s India, but I know what I want now and the dream has solidified into a very real goal. The first sight we visited was a church built in the 1500s. We climbed to the roof and lit candles. Even the Christian church had a sense of Hindu culture to it, everything was out in the open air, even the altars had windows that were not smothered in stained glass. We sat in the garden and discussed our impressions of the trip so far and what we think could improve further student trips. It was nice to hear Dr. Duran legitimize some of my feelings of loneliness and displacement. We are the first students to go on this trip and it was very much up to us to pave the way. Then our driver, who at this point had become a friend, negotiated a boat ride to the famous Imambara mosque. In the boat, we passed Indian cowboys herding and washing their cows through the Ganges. The cows would swim and the men would hold onto the cows or even ride them. Of course, my camera died in my bag. The mosque was like an abandoned palace: gorgeous faded murals, crumbing pillars, a dark hall saturated with low multicolored chandeliers. I covered my head with my Dupatta (salwar scarf) and took off my shoes. When the huge belltower would chime, pigeons would circle up out of their perches and cover the sky. I went up the million stairs in the minaret (ladies side of course) and passed the large bells and up to the tip of the tower; I could see all of India. If the stairs hadn’t already taken my breath away the view would have punched it out of me. Back in Kolkata Dr. Duran picked up his handmade suits on Park Street. So, if anyone wants a customized tailored suit for $100, send me your measurements. For dinner, we went to a highly recommended restaurant Peter Cat and found it eh. Just after we dropped Dr. Duran off, I had a little panic attack. I couldn’t believe he was leaving to go home and I was still here in this dark and confusing country for another 5 weeks. I love India but the time here is very trying and difficult. The intensity of feelings passed but the residue still lingers.

Temples along the Ganges

Saturday Moumita and I took the long and bumpy bus ride to see the temples that line the Ganges River. At noon when we arrived, all the temples were closed. So we sat by the riverbank, drank cha and watched people bathing in, throwing flowers into, and worshipping the Ganges. 

 We took lunch at a house near the Kali temple. We sat on a long mat side by side other worshippers (all men) and were ladled food from large metal buckets. Moumita told me I had to finish everything on my plate as a sign of respect. I waddled out of the house ready for a nap—we hadn’t even begun. We packed onto a very simple wooden boat and went down the Ganges river toward a Ramakrishna mission. 

 All along the river, people climbed down steps leading directly into the water, bathed, and washed their clothes. Little boys dove down to catch the coins people threw for good luck. When we reached the mission, we were still too early so we sat on the steps and ate a very bitter fruit covered in Indian spices out of a newspaper cup. It started to storm and everyone crammed into this little atrium. But I stood out on the steps under an umbrella and watched the river be broken up by the rain. When it stopped, we walked to the gates and took off our shoes. All of the temples had large windows that looked out onto the Ganges. Monks and disciples walked around and families sat on the beautiful grounds in humble silence. It was the most beautiful place I’ve seen in Kolkata yet. We crossed the river once more and head to the Kali temple. Kali, or the destroyer, is the god most worshipped by Kolkata. It is said, one day when Kali was fighting with demons, she lost her pinky finger and it fell in Kolkata. Before we could enter the temple, Moumita had to buy a puja (worship) basket. It consisted of sweets, fresh flowers and incense. The Kali temple was packed and we pushed our way to the window. Inside a scary Kali (with decapitated heads in hand and blood dripping from tongue) was covered in flowers. Men would stick their head out the window and take the puja baskets. “My name’s Moumita,” she said over the crowd and a man roughly threw some flowers at the statue mumbled “Moumita,” handed the basket back to her and rushed her to move on. It was very spiritual and personal. :-p It reminded me of confession. Next to the temple a large hall of people sang worship songs accompanied by sitar. Back on the riverbank, we walked through a market and saw Monkeys just chilling. I almost hit my head when I lay down for the night I was so tired.

Week Posts

Thursday The night before, the caretaker of our building brought a woman before Michael, making sweeping gestures with his hand saying “clean for you?” The next morning the woman came back, not knowing a word of English, and managed to convey pretty clearly she couldn’t clean if we didn’t have things for her to clean with. Woops. We are still so young in so many ways. This city gets me kind of crazy. Drivers have a switch on their dashboard to blow the car horn constantly so their fingers don’t get tired. Everyone and everything is so dirty and pissed off looking. I miss the village. We have this one calculator in lab. Its very small and solar powered, with a push pad not buttons. When working with light sensitive chemicals, we turn the light off. Then we have no calculator. We have to take the calculator out in the hall to use it. Something really disturbing has been going on in lab. I have noticed people dumping out their vibrio cholerae cultures right into the sink, which leads right into the lake. It’s shocking. Not wanting to disrespect the older students, (which is everyone—I’m at LEAST 4 years younger than everyone in the lab) I’ll tell them that I can wash their dishes and make a big flourish of adding Lysol and letting the flasks sit first. Maybe they’ll learn? If I see it again, I will say something. As I previously mentioned, I added a second project to my workload. Now I don’t have a single second in lab to think or eat or breathe. It’s so fun. However that means my blog updating, and GRE studying have been suffering. Oh well. Instead, I’m running around the lab isolating RNA at the same time as I am making bile concentrations. Doing an RT PCR at the same as I am making up new cultures. Doing a PCR from the results at same time I am running the gel from another PCR. All while watching and taking notes as Moumita does the fusion PCR. It’s delicious. My taxi driver asked me to take him to America. “I love Jesus,” he promised. Many people have asked me “Is India changing your life?” It really is. But not in a “Eureka!” type way. It’s been slow and beneath the surface. But I’ll never be the same. Friday Instead of talking to Sir about traveling, I went to ask if I could have time off to go help those in South India devastated from Hurricane Isla. A team (unbeknownst to me) from the institute went 2 weeks ago and maybe next time I could join them. While repeating he really appreciated the thought and motivation, I would never in a million years be allowed to go on a relief trip—I am way too young. However, I definitely need to travel and told me to take off a whole week of lab! He then proceeded to plan the entire trip, revolving around Delhi. I do not want to go to Delhi to see an even bigger city with even more “sites.” I do not care to go to Agara to see the Taj Mahal. No interest. I want to go somewhere completely different. Where like the village, I’ll be able to absorb the culture from the people, not from the attractions. And have decided to go to Rajasthan. I haven’t told Sir. The other students in the lab collectively decided I was a very fast and efficient scientist. They can’t believe how much I get done in a day. Every time anyone mentions doing a task, they’ll say, “you better have Chelsea help you, she’s faster than you.” They’re so blunt. I was told by two people “Michael has acclimated to India so much better than you.” What does that EVEN mean? I’ve had a growing revelation that I want to become an OBGYN. Women have been such an integral part of my life—they’ve raised me, taught me, understood me. And I understand them. The women I’ve met here have taught me more about India than weeks of living here. They’re full of pain and neglect. They give up every part of themselves for their children. Their looks and body language are universal. Child perched on swaying hips, eyes wary, feet hardened. There are very few gynecologists in Kolkata and they’re all men and only treat severe cases because of the shortage. Neurology has always fascinated me, but it never ignited a passion or felt like a purpose. I need/want/need to help these women.