You know how when you learn a new word, you suddenly hear it used everywhere? The same seems to be true when it comes to reading. Just before coming to India, I immersed myself in Barack Obama’s autobiography, Dreams from my father. Barack described how shocked he was when he found out (by chance, in a library in Indonesia) that there were “treatments” offered to Black people to lighten their skin color. I was shocked, too, and ashamed. Above all, however, I was surprised. Shortly after we arrived in India, I saw a billboard of an Indian girl with beautiful black hair and a ghostly white skin. I do not know whether the poster was advertising the face whitening cream, but the message it carried was more than subtle: be white, and you, too may have a chance to end up on the billboard, fame and money following your image. It was time to take off the shoes—we reached a temple. The lovely scent of jasmine permeated the air. I wish I could just take it into my palm and hold it for ever. Instead, I was given a couple of jasmine flowers by a woman in the temple. Walking barefoot on the stones, smelling freshly-cut jasmine blossoms felt surreal, a brief and beautiful moment, a gift from our driver.