When i first arrived in India the smell of spice and cardomom pleasantly greated my nose but it would be a fleeting scent as the taxi tore into the Delhi night streets to Manju Ka Tilla, the Tibetan Refugee colony on the outskirts of this major city. Dusty and congested the traffic was a mad man's den, a wild roaring 600 rupees later i was deposited at the gated entrance to this sunken labyrinthine maze of narrow stone alleys, pits of fetid water and ferrel dogs. The sun had long since set and the various courtyards and hidden paths to unknown locations seemed a fool's search. I knew i had to meet Brendan here, he had arrived from Kolkota several days earlier, but remembered only the name of his guest house. After several attempts to locate
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