Biajar village, Shahpura.

We are here at someone's small front yard after a long, steep drive up the hills. All the children and adults and their friends in the village came to see us. We only have one hour, and then we must go. It is still bright, but the night is fast approaching. The eyes of the villagers sparkle, their smiles shy but complete.

They say, Tank you, (for taking our pictures).

I say, Thank you, (for letting me take beautiful pictures of you).

It is raining...but it is not rain. It is God's mercy. We are not worried about the rain washing our make up away cause we do not have any on. We are not worried about getting ourselves wet and dirty because we are already drenched in rain and dirt. We simply enjoy the falling rain, letting it wash away the humidity, heat and sweats away.

We sing and d a n c e in the rain.

We sing and dance in God's mercy.

Mercy is falling, is falling, is f a l l i n g...

Mercy is falling like sweet spring rain...
Mercy is falling, is falling all over me...

And the sun started to go down...

I reach out my hand to one child and everyone surrounds me to hold my pale, white wrist.

I point my camera to one child and everyone immediately gathers around in excited chatters and poses happily for photos. I say my name once, and everyone starts to scream out their names. Then we all break out into a laughter. We do not know what we are laughing at, but we seem to be having a very good time anyway. We can't verbally communicate beyond asking each others name and age, but there is a much deeper and joyful bond that develops between our hearts, and it is something that stems from our common love for Christ.