The moon is on fire now. And its smoke sends me back to India. I wonder if the moon really smells like its Indian counterpart incense sticks? I can hear God's tears pattering against the ground outside. I think he's moving his furniture around now. The thunder gives him away. I miss her, oh Mother India. To step into India is to have all five of your sense assaulted at once.... without the negative connotations the word holds.

I didn't know where, I didn't know why... all I knew was that I needed to help somehow. I searched the internet for a volunteer program through which I could help those less fortunate than I. I found three things. First, I found i-to-i. Second, I found a list of opportunities to help out in disadvantaged schools around the world. And thirdly, I found India on the list. I signed up within 48 hours. I had a flight booked within six weeks. I was on that flight within eight.

“Why India? Why did you choose India, Chloe?”
“I don't know.”

When I got off the plane thirteen hours after waving goodbye to my teary parents, I found the reason I chose India waiting for me holding a sign with my name on it. Her name was Sucharita.

Sucharita and I lugged my ridiculously large suitcase to the car. Loaded it in. And took off into the parade. Night was running after us, its enveloping darkness hot on our heels. But the color and vibe of India never fades. Even now, 11 months later, I can still feel it. I still long for it more than ever.

As we get out of the car, Sucharita shoos away the neighborhood dogs and squats a mosquito. A woman's velvet voice floats through the air, in time to beating drums echoing from another house not far off. Three women and a man rush out to greet us, their bodies loosely draped in rainbows. They grab my luggage carrying everything but my body up the three flights of stairs to my room. I reach for my suitcase they have laid on my bed. I look for the zippers. I find them and frown at the padlock holding the two zippers together.

“I didn't put a padlock on my suitcase?”
“Oh...”
“Maybe someone at the airport did it?”
“Why would they....”
my gaze falls to the name tag.

Steven Johnson.

“Uh huh...”
“Is this your bag Chloe?”
“Um... no....”

As I fret, Sucharita calms me and proceeds to call the airport and sort everything out.

“Chloe, the man whose suitcase you have has picked up yours and left it at the counter. Do not worry, we can take this one back and swap them over tomorrow.”

The next day, I am feeling a little adventurous and decide to head out to the local market to take a look around. Sucharita writes me directions and I head out around four in the afternoon. Alone. Within fifteen minutes, I am lost. Not to mention worked up. I call Sucharita, trying desperately to hold back the tears but failing miserably. Sucharita is on her way to a concert with her family but drops everything to come pick me up and calm my fears.

Two days later (after orientation) I am dropped off at the school where I will be teaching English for the next four weeks. A sea of smiles greet me....

As the days turn into weeks the children teach me more than I could ever have hoped to teach them. Their clothes are dirty... their families can barely afford to feed them regularly... and they sit on the floor leaning over their books for hours at a time.... and yet they are some of the happiest children I have ever met.

Other volunteers tell me of the caste system that exists in India. Of how sometimes, different castes will not even share a meal together. I learn of the female genocide rates and how young girls are bribed with chocolate for sexual favors... their young minds not understanding that it is abuse. I watch as Sucharita's husband's health brings her to tears... unable to afford the necessary treatment because so much of their money has gone into helping the starving and the homeless.

The other volunteers and I spend a lot of time with Sucharita over those four weeks... and it is through her that I really get to know India. She is quite well off and yet she gives endlessly of her time and energy.... Nothing is too much trouble. There is no rush to get to anywhere besides happiness.

And it is then that my love affair with India began.

• india