I’m in Dehli now. In the land of the world’s second largest population, after China. In India, the Haves really have and the Have Nots really don’t. You can feel the social thermo cline the moment you step out of your hotel.

This is my second trip to India to do research -- once for Nokia, this time for IBM. In both cases, they have a translator in the back room who is translating English into English. It’s the most bizarre thing. Sometimes the English accents are a little heavy (Hindi is the native tongue), so to make sure you’re getting it all, the research company brings in a translator. Our translator tried to translate (er… repeat) everything word for word. It was impossibly annoying! Even the client complained. So we’re getting someone else in tomorrow. Not that I see the point. I really do understand English. It’s so bizarre.

Actually, maybe I don’t. The IT guy just came to my room to fix my wireless connection and he kept asking, “May 17?” I repeated, “May 17?” He said, “Yes. May 17?” I stared at him for 5 or 6 seconds and I finally said, “Oh! May I say something?!” It’s like that. By the way, he wanted to tell me that I look more like a model than a business woman, thank you very much. But it was kind of weird, so I kicked him out of my room before I got the wireless to work.

We’re holding our focus groups at the Intercontinental, Grand Hotel. Marble walls. Glass elevators. Pampered massages and energy readings. High-end luxury mall. Fancy restaurants. It’s really glorious. I’m surprised they don’t have angels flying around mixing cocktails for you.

I’m staying at the Radisson, which is also very nice – nice lobby, decent rooms (It’s all relative). It’s more convenient for me here because it’s much closer to the airport. So, to get to my groups I once again need to brave the traffic and the streets and the poverty.

There are no traffic rules here. Sure, they paint dashed white and solid yellow lines in the road, but I think that’s more for show than anything. Shockingly, I have yet to witness a fatal traffic accident. I’m not being dramatic. Two lanes turn into three…or four…if a car thinks it’s small enough or quick enough or clever enough to squeeze through. People cross the street like deer or frogs bounding and hopping to the other side knowing full well they can get smashed. The windshield of my taxi driver’s car was cracked, so who knows? Maybe people do get killed all the time, but there are too many of them to notice.

I wonder, are there too many of them to care? It’s not rhetorical. It’s a real question. In some ways, I wonder if we don’t just desensitize ourselves because we have to. I don’t know, but I think the Light is trying to tell me something.

Once again, poverty knocked on my car window. This was his face. He was selling little bundles of roses. But what caught my eye was the little rose bundle in his arm. Where does she sleep? Does she have anything to eat? She is so dirty! Who takes care of her? But there are millions of these babies here starving right in front of us. What can I do?

I watched him walk by. He saw me see him. He came around to my side of the car to get close and ask me personally if I wanted to buy roses. I just looked at him. Am I still invisible? How long was this traffic light anyway? He said something in Hindi, I don’t know what, but our language became the same when he pointed to the baby.

I asked myself, should I open the window? Can I really make a difference?

Yes. I rolled down the window. I gave him 100 rupees. That’s it there in his left hand. I pray it multiplies in his life so he can take good care of the baby. (OMG!!!! I just converted this into US Dollars!! I only gave him $2.25. What the hell is he going to do with that?! uhhhhh....anyway, I guess that goes a really long way here.)

As he was giving me my roses, I took this picture of him, with his permission of course. I didn’t want to forget this, and there is so much of it here it is actually easy to not see, to ignore, to forget.

Something is happening to me. I am waking up. I can feel it.