There is something surreal about being in the midst of a pyrotechnic people where nightly my sensibilities are assaulted with a barrage of firecrackers and blasts the strength of which sometimes seem eerily close by. I use the words carefully because I have been through a war, I know what it sounds like and it is not how anyone would chose to fall asleep. This strikes me even more insane in the light of the real danger that India faces from terrorism and the lengthy announcements that come out of the US and UK embassies following the Pune bomb blast at the weekend where a number of people, foreigners and locals were killed.
We are urged to be vigilant among seas of people and packets and security measures that predicate passage on the mistaken basis of the colour of your skin.
And then I ask myself a thousand times why people who want to harm can justify what they do and whether faith is reason enough. I am exploring Delhi and the passage of turks, afghans and moghul rulers and the consequences of faith and power are all too visible.