During my adventures in Kolkota, I made friends with a local. Her cousin was getting married in a few days and she asked me to attend the wedding. A hindu wedding is a party like no other! Unfortunatley the underage bride did not think so. Everyone was told that she was 15…I later discovered she was 12. She is the sullen, yet beautiful face in the picture.

I went to New Market in Kolkata and met this street child. Incredibly, she spoke fairly good English. She wanted nothing more than to spend the day shopping with me. She protected me from the “dirty men” as she called them and even bargained a few prices in Bangla for me. When we departed ways, she did not ask for money, but only asked if I would return again and let her be my shopping friend.

This is a real hospital in Kolkata and a half way decent one at that…despite what the name would lead one to believe.

This is looking out from the roof top of the place I stayed in India. The streets of Kolkata have an unforgettable mark of colonialism—all of the architecture. A haunting feeling would enter my body as I felt myself return to a time of colonialism that I had not been present for nor a part of. This feeling and wonder of the past would return to me many times as I walked the streets of Kolkata.