If you want to go to see the great monuments to the human spirit and industry in India—and you are not unfit for the rigors of the journey and security procedures—go now before it becomes even worse.  Don’t travel in the company of any number of westerners greater than three.  (On the other hand, I don’t recommend any number less than three since parts of India, such as Chennai, don’t hesitate to treat individual travelers badly.)  Don’t travel in a motor coach or late model car.  Consider wearing Asian or Muslim dress with a shawl or turban ready to cover the face completely so you can look less like a tourist target.  (I learn that I can more effectively rescue students from hawkers and keep the heat of the sun at bay by wearing a shawl that can be lifted over my head and face.  The shawl is a gift from friends back home and it certainly seems as though it would be too hot but it turns out to be perfect.

I now understand the value of the full black burkha. The only time I’m not jostled in a crowd is when my head is covered.)  Stay away from tourist sites and hotel accommodations.  Ask Indian friends to travel with you or engage a driver in a beat-up car from a reputable company.  If the current situation with hawkers and security becomes any worse, all bets are off and I don’t know what to advise.  It all somehow reminds me of a beautifully written existential novel I read many years ago that could send the most sanguine person into the deepest depression—Paul Bowles’s The Sheltering Sky—with the most exquisite language.  Leave it to literature.