London, United Kingdom. Last year I moved to the bustling city I affectionately call sweet little London town. Among other more intrepid adventures, I spent quite some time in the stuffy hideaways of the LSE library learning IR theory and getting to know a great group of new colleagues. The year passed quickly, I earned my degree, and was then faced with a void as big as an ocean accompanied by the nagging question, “What will you do now?” One thing was certain, I wasn’t ready to go home. In fact, I craved something more exotic, more foreign, and more challenging than even a year with the Brits can be. India! That was the answer. And as luck would have it, I was given the chance to venture east, to the land of the Maharajas.
During my three and something months on the subcontinent, I fussed over how primitive my accommodation might be, where I could buy mosquito nets for nights spent in beach huts, and how to avoid sickness from the food and water. In retrospect, I probably fussed a bit too much, but in the absence of traveler’s stomach or dengue or worse, there was nothing much left to sour my journey through colorful, vibrant, young India. I shot thousands of photos, hoping to capture the raw beauty of the country and its inhabitants. This series is meant to tell some of my stories about India as I experienced it, through words and photographs.