While still choking on the cloud of fuchsia powder that was just slapped across my face, I had the hands of a dozen faceless strangers grasping at every crevice of my body. Trapped in a near stampede in the village of Barsana, India, there was nowhere to move. The streets ran like a torrential wave, and despite the fact that I was standing on the sidelines, I was swept into the deluge in a matter of seconds. The tiny road was packed with hundreds of men who pressed against me, groping me from every angle.
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