

Shre is Indian, the Asian kind, so I didn’t correct him, but, rest assured, I know white people shouldn’t appropriate that phrase.
“Oh yeah? Why?”
“Nobody can fuck with her. She’s fierce. She flies so high, so easily, and gracefully, and she’s most beautiful to watch when she’s flying against the wind.”
Shre’s first words to me, less than 48 hours earlier, were “Not all men!” so it’s amazing he survived at all, let alone became a fast friend. He piped up during an unwanted interaction with a misogynist twice his age at the next table, who later told me I look bad in photographs, and that I’m not pretty enough to rape.
Shre, 25 immediately earned his feminist stripes by backing me up 100% and saving me some emotional labor. The Negging Incel ended up buying me two drinks, following me on Instagram and begging me to travel with him the next day





I travelled with Shre instead, and the day after that, as well. He’s spent two months here already, and treated me to the most accessible hits. We plan to return, as a team, to accomplish our shared mission of further exploration and documentation.
We meet again in Delhi, his home, on Wednesday, to visit the Tribal Affairs Ministry to get the proper permits. Delhi is a necessary evil for me, a frequent traveler to India, but I’m excited to see the city through his eyes on this, my 4th or 5th visit.
Science shows that intergenerational friendships lengthen life and improve it’s quality. I feel grateful that I can keep up with my newly adopted Son, physically and mentally. Shre is a remarkable young man. Bright, ambitious and empathetic. He gives me hope, and confidence. I sorely needed his friendship when it arrived.
I don’t feel anything like the Sea Eagle, but she’s something to aspire to.
Like Delhi, I need to see MYSELF through Shre’s eyes.