When I arrived in New Delhi, I knew no one. I had no real plan, other than to see the Baha’i Lotus Temple, visit Gandhi’s grave, and eat in hole in the wall restaurants alongside the locals. I was only in India because I got kicked out of the home I had made for myself months ago in China after renewing my visa one too many times, and I stumbled upon the Indian Consulate while wandering the streets of Hong Kong, homeless but strangely content – and I thought: well, why not.
I am suddenly struck tonight by the realization of how much courage I had then, but was utterly unaware of – an inner fearlessness that dwelt within me but was almost completely imperceptible to me at the time. I didn’t realize then that it was a very brave thing to be in a foreign land without a single ally, a tour guide, a safely etched map of where and when and how.
I find myself, in this moment, oddly missing myself, as if I am not that girl at all, but rather, she is the heroine I admired in a novel I once read.