The chatter of local commuters punctuates the rhythm of the train like the patter of tabla drums and single-string melody over the drone chord of a sitar. It provokes a scattergun mosaic of thoughts of the past few days:

We have dined finely at a beautiful palace on the outskirts of Jaipur with a library of leatherbound books, a piano, and a grammaphone; all to the accompaniment of live, traditional music. With great anticipation, we have stalked tigers through Ranathambore national park, to reveal deer, birds, monkeys, and crocodiles, but no large cats. A walk through Bundi gave us Escher-like step-wells and stunningly-colourful paintings at the palace.

The days are packed and the time goes quickly. Thoughts of normality begin to creep in. Our train is headed for a small campsite by a lake outside the village of Bassi, where we will have a day of relaxation and reflection...

The sun gently rises over the placid lake. Animals announce their wakefulness, and the stirring of insects creates ripples of reflection, not dissimilar to the morning stirrings of my own mind. The ripples dissipate and intersect, forming peaks and troughs that catch the light and swallow the dark. A shallow boat whispers upon the waters, as its occupants search for something in the darkness underneath, their hunting patient, not insistent. The repetitive mantra of birdsong lulls the lake ashore and sings the sun afloat. I sit atop the steps, awaiting my morning chai.