b'I quickly learn this trip will require patience. Indias transportation system is not for those in a hurry. Cars, mopeds and bicycles share the roads with cows and pedestrians, disregarding lanes, driving against traffic and through floods with little regard for rules. A cacophony of horns of varying lengths convey different messages, a language without words. It takes about 45 minutes to move less than two miles. When we arrive at the hotel, the entrance is blocked with armed guards. They check under the hood, inspect the back of the van, and question the driver before motioning us to move along. At the door, we are met with more guards and metal detectorstightened security, my driver explains, was implemented throughout the country after the Mumbai hotel massacre in 2008.Once inside the hotel, the tension eases. I am welcomed warmly and shown to our accommodations. Travel-weary and lying on a comfortable, clean bed, I drift to sleep thinking about the men, women and children I passed on the roads. Where are they sleeping tonight? Tomorrow, I hope to begin connecting with these people who to no fault of their own were born under much different circumstances than mine. Will they care to connect with me?'