As I sat quietly in the back seat of what Raj called our “tachsee,” something bright went on in my head. I had spent the beginning days of our journey searching for a moment of insight and here it was; it finally dawned on me that Raj was a dirty gummy bear- one that had fallen in the dusty streets of Delhi and rolled around a bit. Our first “tachsee” driver was more like a mystery-flavored Airhead; we never knew what we were going to get with him- a “you are going to have a wonderful, adventure-filled day,” or a “You are going to have a screwed-out-of-your-money-and-tricked-into-purchasing-over-priced-EVERYTHING-after-I-pretend-I-don’t-know-how-to-get-to-your-hostel-and-run-up-your-meter kind of day. Good luck!” The German boys we had spent the last few days exploring Pushkar with seemed to me to be more like vegetables, perhaps celery stalks or pieces of long, lean asparagus, one with a leafy top and one without. Clearly, they did not fit in. The women in the streets looked like skittles, all similar-looking in that they had the same long, braided, dark hair, matching nose piercings, and red smudges on their foreheads signaling that they “had a worry,” but each wore differently colored but equally bright and sweeping clothing wrapped around their bodies. Hundreds and hundreds of skittles walked around the chaotic streets. India is more spicy than sweet, but for some reason candy was on my mind and there really was no other way to describe our chubby, greying, weathered-looking, bubbly old friend; Raj was a gummy bear.