The village. I’m in Kalapani, a village within a city in Guwahati. When you are there, you think you are hours away from civilization, except for all the pollution. But then you climb a mountain and you can hear the city’s growl, horns, and see the buildings behind the haze, and you realize that you are still in the city. But the village part of the city. The part of the city without electricity or running water. Weird city/village.

Then I come back to the city for an evening. I cry from the dust storms and black smoke, although I truly enjoy the scent, my eyes that are coated with contacts made of some breatheable super material become dry like a Muslim’s beard on Holi Festival. Then I go to the saloon to get a shave. I was waiting at the saloon, the hairdresser R.K. was busy hanging out at some other shop, and some man came to me, spoke very little English, but enough to tell me that he wanted to show me his office in the same building as R.K’s saloon. I agreed. I usually let anyone abduct me and serve me whatever food/drink they want, and leave shortly after. This guy took my up the stairs saying things like, ‘OK OK, Office, yes, good.’ Then I heard a quick, ‘Let’s fuck.’ come out of his mouth.
I stopped. His tone was more threatening than playful, but for my lifestyle choice, either way isn’t for me.
He said he was joking. But I don’t think he was. I was going to tell him that I respected his lifestyle but that I didn’t enjoy the Indian rolled roti.
I told him a few things without using the word he used.. I walked by and I left. He laughed.
I got shaved. I rode a rickshaw. I bought a Hindi dictionary. I rode a rickshaw. Epic times.
But don’t worry mom. This isn’t the first time this has happened. It really isn’t.

The village has nice tiny Nepali people cooking me food. The city has creepy young business men wanting to get it on in their office.

Weird times.