I woke up before Jaisalmer this morning and was greeted by only the morning desert breeze and barking stray dogs. As my comrades dreamt, I climbed the stairs to the roof and nearly stepped on the leg of a hotel staff member who slept in peaceful solitude, cocooned in a blanket on the roof. I recognized him from the day before, he was wearing the same red polo shirt and blue jeans. It was 6:15am and as the sun crept over the Indian Army fort overlooking the city, I stood at my young friend’s feet, or rather he was laid at mine, and I looked him over as the gravity of that moment actualized in my mind. Same guy who just yesterday greeted me with a warm yet satisfied grin after connecting my iPhone 6S to wi-fi (after I repeatedly failed at doing so), was resting peacefully in the same manner as I just 20 minutes prior, in the comforts of my bedroom that he’d likely prepared for my arrival.  He was no more than 22, with the weathering a man twice his age back in the states. It was apparent that although our physical world’s were temporarily intersecting, nearly everything else about us differed. Our commonalities were basic, yet enough. I was reminded of the opening pages of “The People’s History,” as Zinn describes the first encounter between Columbus’s crew and the Natives. My young friend was different. And, there were so many questions I wanted to ask him.  But, instead I tip-toed around him with painstaking caution as not to wake him. Nor the other hotel worker who lie beside him. I stepped forward into the sunlight, and welcomed day two in India.

KB