The Sikh rickshaw driver who gave me a lift to the airport.

Once you past the immigration checkpoint at the Delhi International Airport, the Departure Lounge is a world between worlds.  Life exists in a bubble, and the only escape is by air or, if you're an employee of the duty free shop, when you leave at the end of your shift.

 

My escape is by air, and sleep soon follows.  Waking in a sleepy haze, I lift the shade that a steward has pulled down over the oval airplane window.  Heading west, we chase the darkness that billows up in front of us.  The horizon begins to lighten in our wake, revealing misty hillsides, lakes and the occasional village.  As in a dream, the crescent of the sun rises a surreal orange.