It was such a treat to be traveling to the outskirts of Delhi and photographing for Worldreader our last two days India. This little one finally warmed up at the end.

Just before our flight out of Delhi, I had the opportunity to spend a few days photographing in the field with Worldreader, an organization that promotes literacy around the globe by bringing e-books to every child and his or her family. We had met with the team while we were still in San Francisco, so as a project long planned for, Alex, still recovering from Dengue, convinced me to push on without him.

Along with Annya from Worldreader, a small team of people from their partners, and a local advocate and translator, we travelled all around Delhi, capturing and documenting people's real stories and experiences with Worldreader and its mobile application. While simply being invited into schools and the homes of local families felt like a privilege on its own, getting to see and hear how an ordinary device could engage children and stimulate interest in reading was inspiring to see. I could not have been more thankful for the experience those last few days in India.

Check out my favorite photos from my time with Worldreader below, and please visit www.worldreader.org to see how you can help their mission in spreading literacy around the globe.

Madelene Farin for Worldreader , in Delhi, India.

Bundi

We’re on a night bus to Bundi, a town that promises to be a place where we could away from it all, a place to relax for a while. After research and debates on how far into Rajasthan we wanted to go, we realized that six months of travel had taken a toll on us. So, we were off to the middle of nowhere in a (somewhat) comfortable and grubby bus - even my legs (almost) fit. The three-man team leads up front, one of them hanging his underwear over the open door. He had taken a shower on the street before we left. A girl is in the sleeper cabin to my left. Indian women are usually reserved, and the large majority in traditional clothing, carefully hiding shoulders, legs, and hair, though unabashedly exposing their bellies. This one is hip, with a plaid button-down shirt and jeans, short hair, and a few rings - just like many men around. Without prejudice, I wonder what the state of LGBT issues in India is.

With only a few minutes to gather our backpacks hidden behind a closed door at the back of the bus, the driver warns that we’re approaching our stop. We’re still full speed ahead on the highway, and he is not slowing down. Does he expect us to jump out? After some confusion, the bus drops us off in the middle of nowhere, on the freeway instead the promised bus station, around midnight. As we are the only two travelers to Bundi, he doesn’t want to make a detour. We’re pointed to cross the road to ask one of the two tuk-tuks for a ride five more kilometers to town. A quick road crossing with heavy backpacks, and a taxi ride later, we arrive at Dualat Niwas Bundi (a family haveli - traditional Indian mansion) to be greeted by Shivam - a tall, incredibly easy-going owner, who smiles at us warmly, and explains that things like this happen all the time. Bundi is off the beaten path after all.

It’s a steep climb up to the ancient City Palace and Taragarh Fort.

Raniji ki Baori and its intricately carved archways. Known as the Queen’s stepwell, it was once a social gathering place for all the town. Today parts of it are undergoing restoration so that one day it may return to the same glory it was in back th… — Raniji ki Baori and its intricately carved archways. Known as the Queen’s stepwell, it was once a social gathering place for all the town. Today parts of it are undergoing restoration so that one day it may return to the same glory it was in back then.

Thankfully, Bundi is all we expected. A simpler town, with a handful of tourists looking for the same: a bit of peace and quiet, and locals who smile and aren’t trying to sell you anything. For a few days, we do as little as we can: visit the nearby abandoned fort, a marvel we explore on our own without any restriction - except for the courtyard heavy with the odor of a large dead animal, and the step well protected by the local macaque mafia (with its own harem); roam the streets of blue walls and mischievous kids, following the current festival (there are many) and paying respects to Ganesha; dine on rooftops, Ringo’s lassi, Shivam’s breakfast poha, and his dinner of goat stew, including a side of brain; another visit to another city palace, to learn Hindu history through the old wall paintings; hunt for the centuries-old step wells spread throughout the city, unfortunately, turned to little more than sewers.

We head to Rudyard Kipling’s hangout (at least for a few days) while he was writing The Jungle Book. We watch the haveli’s dogs chase the tall gray langurs. The local cows hang around, waiting for the daily donation. An easy life we’re happy to be part of, just until we’re ready for the next step: Udaipur.

Udaipur

It’s a short trip to Udaipur, only half a night - which starts at 1:00 am in the empty Bundi train station, waiting for the always-late train. Udaipur greets us gently in the morning, an old city full of character, wall paintings, and cars. We find a simple hotel and, thankfully, decide on exploring on the first day after a filling thali, making a short stop at the intricate Jagdish Temple before heading to the magnificent City Palace. Amongst classes of children staring at us, we roam the halls of the incredible complex and stare in wonder over its colors, numerous rooms, and design. A place only Madie’s pictures could do justice for.

Perhaps the most beautiful City Palace we visited in India. There is nothing special about the architecture of the grand complex; rather, its uniqueness lies in its lavish decoration and preservation.

Albeit noisy (of course), the streets of Udaipur are pleasant. We walk around, overlook the nearby lake, and find dinner at a mom-and-pop. It’s a small room over another restaurant, and likely the place with the best thali we’ve had on our trip. There is only one large table for eight people, so we sit across the chef’s husband reading his newspaper, and converse with an older couple who invites us to contact them should we ever visit Tanzania.

The next day our travels stop abruptly, as I come down with dengue fever, a mosquito-borne disease with little to do but sleep 20 hours a day and wait it out. We lengthen our stay, lose money on a night bus, and buy a last minute flight to Delhi to be close to a hospital, which turns out to be the right decision. Mui, our dear friend, is thankfully there on a business trip. She helps us get our act together, finding us a comfortable Airbnb to recover in, and contacting friends and family back home for medical advice. Madie shows all the genes of the Filipina nurse for almost two weeks until it’s already time to leave India and head to France for a much-deserved break.

India came through as the most vivid memories of our trip. We loved and hated; ate until we couldn’t and smelt in disgust; fell short of words in front of profound spirituality or of incredible scams. Karma is an odd thing, protecting the nearby cow but not sparing the surrounding nature of plastic cups and trash. It’s an unexplainable country, of long, complex history - and we barely experienced it outside of Rajasthan. We have to be back, we need to come back and understand more, explore the Southern tropical side, the nearby Sri Lanka, the Northern mountainous region, Himalayas, Darjeeling, the Beatles’s Rishikesh, the Dalai Lama’s McLeod Ganj. India is so much more. But not yet. Right now, we need to sleep a hundred years.

France - Fall in Lyon

India - Working with Worldreader in Delhi

India - Off the Beaten Path in Bundi and Udaipur

Bundi

Udaipur

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