Dusty roads ahead stretch infinitely into the abyss. We’ve been driving for hours across the Rajasthani desert. In all honesty, I have no idea where I am. I squint my eyes once in a while, looking out for any sign of life.
In the distance, I can eventually make out a tiny village. The houses are made up of cow dung, mud, homemade cement, sticks, and stones.
As our car comes to a stop, silhouettes of children against the harsh sun start appearing.
Tentative and bashfully, they slowly make their way over to us. They exchange a lot of frowns, slight head tilts, various eye movements, and very few words in Hindi, – a full conversation between each other about the newcomers.
Finally, an older boy breaks the ice and offers me a smile. I reciprocate it, and suddenly we aren’t “strangers” anymore. He burst into laughter and the rest of the younger children follow. Some of them extend handshakes while other hands begin to touch my arms and blond hair – not gonna lie, there is definitely some innocent hair tugging. I’m guessing they aren’t very used to seeing such skin tones and hair colour.