So the first part of this trip has been…frustrating.
I don’t remember it being so difficult to get around India. I don’t remember having so much difficulty getting a story to work.
I do have to say, though, the girl who is helping me and my fellow photojournalist on our stories has been incredibly helpful. Ekta is her name and she has helped us start working with migrant train workers, translated for us in multiple situations, helped conduct an interview with a family living in a slum, and even took us out shopping.
^Kaylee (left) and me (right) wearing scarves we got from shopping^
But miscommunications and delays have only been making the clock on my back grow heavier. And as of today, I only have two weeks left. Sounds like a lot, but when trying to do an in-depth story on someone from a foreign country who only stares at you and poses in all pictures the first few times you meet them makes it a little difficult.
^Guy at a restaurant who wanted his picture taken^
As for my stories, I’m focusing on the migrant train workers at Hazrat Nizamuddin station who receive no benefits from the government and I’m also doing a story on child malnourishment in India.
^Migrant train workers who live in a shanty literally between train tracks^
While I still love India, I’m beginning to understand it more. The corruption that all the people speak about is becoming more apparent. It’s difficult to see such wonderful people left unheard by a government that doesn’t seem to care. Like the family I met yesterday. Their daughter was killed in a train accident, but when the father went to the government to receive some aid, he was never helped. Living in a slum, he can’t afford to waste his time talking to officials who will never help him.
^Aarti, the sister of the girl who died in a train accident^
On the other side, it’s nice to see that people here make due with what they have. Kids play with old bike tires and rocks - not something that would entertain most kids I’ve met back home.
^Bhedi, a government-hired train worker^
Indians are just very resilient. No matter what’s thrown their way, they find a way to work with what they’re given. The more I stay here, the more resilient I grow, and the quicker I lose my frustrations.
Hopefully I’ll be able to continue working with the guys at the train tracks…as long as police don’t yell at us again.