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In New Delhi, India, the summer air is heavy with humidity while the stifling heat serves to wring every last bit of magic out of a gin and tonic, long on gin, but short-changed with precious ice. The smog can be oppressive, hanging over the ancient city like a bad dream. The constant racket of the rickshaws' (tuk-tuks) horns and bells can wear on the traveling soul, like fingernails dragging endlessly down a chalkboard. The sea of humanity seems to have no beginning, no end. Waves of people,...
