July 20th 11:12am - Droll Delhi

Delhi, India is similar to Paris... if Paris had no trash cans, trash and debris dominating the streets like my food-fetish controls my cerebellum, one hundred seventy three thousand two hundred and ninety six trillion more people, and outdoor urinals. I delayed in Delhi for nineteen hours. Within those nineteen hours, I met up with a high school friend who had recently rambled through Pakistan and loved it almost as much as he loves China.
Pakistan and I traversed Delhi before our thirty-four-hour train ride to New Jalpaiguri, with the decisive destination being Darjeeling, a mesmerizing hill resort with tea plantations and hills that roll like my eight-year-old bulging belly once did.
Within one hour male urine had streamed over my sandaled feet, outlaw overflow from one of the many open-air urinals lining the streets. Within three hours Pakistan walked street-side of me so oncoming traffic wouldn't feel it necessary to diverge their advancement towards me. Three bicyclists and two cars came so close to colliding with me that even with my 20/400 eyesight I could examine their ear hair. I observe such things as often as Sarah Palin researches foreign affairs.
As Pakistan and I paddled through trash he divulged one of his many deviant viewpoints.
"If my future children are acting disruptive or misbehaving I will just beat them," he told me with an expression as serious as Mao.
"What?" I asked with George Bush's gift of elaborate speech as we twisted through the thronging masses of people.
"Well, I mean, if they never stop crying and we're in a grocery store or something. I'll just beat them. Only until they're like three years old though. You can't really beat a child after the age of three."
"Jesus Christ," I replied, and synonymously felt a firm little-hand clutch on my chest by a passerby. I angled around and projected, "What the hell?" to an Indian boy appearing about fifteen who slanted back at me, imp-smiling. My maternal instincts adequately arose with a sigh and I turned back around, continuing our course.
"I really hope that was an accident," I announced.
"Huh?" Pakistan replied.

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