A few weekends ago, we went to Bangalore. It was strange. Bangalore is so western; it felt like a different country. We explored, shopped, ate. It was relaxing and fun to be with the other volunteers, and as always enjoyable to see a new place. Saturday night, we decided to go to the Bull Temple, which someone had recommended to another volunteer. The nine of us got into three auto-rickshaws, asked the driver to take us to the Bull Temple, and were on our way. As we weaved through the Bangalore traffic passing shops, and tall buildings, and bars—there aren’t any in Tamil Nadu, only “wine houses” occasionally visited discreetly by men—it was easy to forget that we were on our way to a Hindu temple. When we arrived, the other two rickshaws where nowhere in
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