Each temple we walk into barefoot, with the masses of worshipers...

Yesterday, I wound up playing lead drum in a temple with a bunch of men playing symbols, accordion, and other percussion instruments...chanting, the rhythm taking us to cycles of harmony no distance in homeland could separate. We were taken to meet the priest, who looked up from his holy book to interview us, as men chanted aside pots of incense, women lined in front of god faces to offer gifts of flowers and sweets....

As Carolyn took a late afternoon nap yesterday, I went down and sat on Gassi Ghat, the steps leading down to the river, and made friends with two ten-year-old boys selling marigolds, a factory foreman, who played the flute for me, and a high school history student.