Agra

I could easily get lost self-gratifying hyperbole to describe my visit to the Taj Mahal (Day 2 of the parental tour). But, I'll save you the agony. Suffice to say that it firmly deserves to be on the list of "50 things to do before you die". If you thought you didn't need to visit. Change your mind. Plan your trip. Buy your ticket. Go.

But I do want to pause to reflect on something else that happened to us in Agra. We arrived off the 6.15am express train from New Delhi Station. The sky was dark, heavy, and sodden. Rain drenched everything, everyone, and me. We pushed through the surrounding crowd to the jovial hotel-man who led us, darting round puddles, to his jeep.

I was safely inside drying my face and wiping the mist from my glasses when I was startled by a dark face just beyond the window. He was so close I could see the red veins in the whites of his eyes. He wore a giant grin and stood happily under a tatty, leaking his umbrella. He motioned downwards towards his feet and then stretched his hand up towards me.

I looked down and drew breath, sharply. He feet were gigantic, gnarled and swollen. Six or seven times bigger than they should have been, they were truly elephant's feet. His toes stuck out at preposterous angles, each one the size of a thick frankfurter. The swelling extended up his leg and disappeared into his trousers. I tore my eyes away. I couldn't look. He tapped at the window. I stared ahead and we drove off.

Why? Why didn't I show more compassion? What would have it been to me to wind down my window and pass him a damp Rs 100 (~$2)? Was I too shocked? Or did I block it out and tell myself it wasn't my problem?

The odd thing about India is that you become anesthetized to so many shocking, disturbing things. It's partly about self-preservation - I need to mentally insulate myself to keep some peace of mind; if every such scene upset you, you'd be an emotional wreck in no time. But I think it's also because so often such interactions fill me with a pervading sense of helplessness. I feel (perhaps incorrectly) that by giving them money I strip them of their dignity and I admit that charity is their only hope. Surely there must be another way. But perhaps I should also recognise that in the meantime, no other assistance is coming their way.