Sikh Gurdwaras offer Langar - which roughly translates into "kitchen" or "canteen" in English - the world over, serving food to the masses from noon to midnight, with some Gurdwaras offering 24 hour service.
While many of India's poor and homeless utilize Langar, members of the public can still line up, regardless of their faith, financial standing, or ethnicity. // Langar at the Gurdwara Sis Ganj Sahib, Old Delhi.

India’s ever-increasing garbage issue:

When pressed to describe India, anyone who has visited it will immediately recall any one of the countless romantic cliches on offer: women disappearing down alleyways in beautifully coloured saris, the tantalising scent of street-side masala chai, or the endless array of flavours at local spice markets. What they’ll also recall, however, is the trash. To say the country is drowning in rubbish wouldn’t be overly hyperbolic: Over 62 million tonnes is created every day by the 377 million people living in urban India. One estimate predicts that it could be as high as 165 million by 2031. While the government may be pushing their campaign to clean up the country's streets by 2019, their landfills are at bursting point. In Delhi, where this photo was taken, three out of four of the city’s landfills are overdue for closure with no end to the dumping in sight. India's largest and oldest site, Mumbai’s Deonar landfill, is so poorly engineered that it is wildly encroaching upon nearby neighbourhoods, causing increasing incidences of respiratory and skin diseases, dysentery and food poisoning amongst locals. A four-day-long fire ignited at the site in January that could be seen from space. 
With effective legislation taking its time, municipalities have spawned small, unorthodox ways of combatting the issue. Cities such as Goa and Delhi have launched apps like "Swachh Delhi" that allows vigilantes to photograph and upload images of any illegal dumping. The perpetrator is issued with a fine, and the snitch sometimes a financial reward.

----------------------

Under a Rapid Metro station in Delhi.

The cow: Arguably India’s most prized animal. 
These gentle farmyard animals wander unimpeded through traffic-choked streets; scores of auto-rickshaws and honking motorbikes slalom through grazing cattle in downtown Delhi; traffic grinds to a halt in Varanasi as they meander unperturbed through chaotic roundabouts - you haven’t been to India if you haven’t tread in cow shit. According to the United States Department of Agriculture, India’s approximately 301,600,000 cattle account for over 31% of the earth’s population and are an obviously huge factor in the country’s effort to combat climate change. The cow is worshiped widely through India, but the animal is an increasingly polarizing topic for the country. India’s Prime Minister Narendra Modi had campaigned vociferously against the slaughter of cows; however, under Modi’s governance, India continues to lead the world in beef exports, despite the sale of beef remaining illegal within many parts of the country. Some have blamed Modi's political rhetoric for stoking the small vigilante cow protection groups that have surfaced around the country: just last September, a 50-year-old man in Uttar Pradesh was killed in a mob lynching over allegedly storing and consuming beef in his home. While an incredibly rare occurrence, it’s indicative of how sacred the animal is to some here.
-----------
A cow in the small village of Orchha, Madhya Pradesh. Orchha is a town of approximately ten to fifteen thousand with a 99% Hindu population.

Two men bath in the holy water of the Ganges just before sunrise in Varanasi, India.

Varanasi, the holy city 2/3: 
During a sunset tour on the Ganges, I witnessed the evening ceremony at the Dashashvamedh Ghat (a large flight of stairs leading down to the river). There are eighty-seven ghats along the Varanasi waterfront, but the Dashashvamedh Ghat is where Hindus attend a nightly ceremony to worship the god Shiva, goddess Ganga, and many others. Hundreds line the ghat and dozens of boats cram the shoreline for a good view.

A man lowers “Gulab”- an aluminum foil saucer with flower petals and a lit flower stem - into the Ganges. Gulab is dropped into the river as an offering to the goddess Ganga (Ganges).

Varanasi, the holy city: 
During a sunset tour on the Ganges, I witnessed the evening ceremony at the Dashashvamedh Ghat (a large flight of stairs leading down to the river). There are eighty-seven ghats along the Varanasi waterfront, but the Dashashvamedh Ghat is where Hindus attend a nightly ceremony to worship the god Shiva, goddess Ganga, and many others. Hundreds line the ghat and dozens of boats cram the shoreline for a good view.

Shubham, a worker on the boat we were aboard, lights “Gulab”, an aluminum foil saucer with flower petals and a lit flower stem. Gulab is dropped into the Ganges river as an offering to the goddess Ganga (Ganges).

Mid-way through a relay, groups of men make the Kawad pilgrimage from part of the Ganges river to their villages. With decorative hand-made structures that contain small amounts of water from the river slung over their shoulders, most walk the entire way home, never letting the water touch the ground. Ultimately, the distance can be hundreds of kilometers. Trucks loudly blasting music follow in support, and dancing in the middle of the street is a regular occurrence.

Vietnam’s rice industry is enormous, to say the least. There are three main pockets of rice production: The Southern (Mekong) Delta region, which produces about half of the country’s rice; the Northern Delta; and the highlands of the north. As of 2015, Vietnam's $4 billion in rice exports accounted for over a fifth of the global supply.

However, with the domestic demand for rice declining, as a younger generation develops a taste for meat and wheat, and countries such as Thailand producing higher quality rice, the farmers who supply it don’t reap the rewards. Since the food shortages in the 1980s, the government’s focus has been on quantity instead of quality, continually pushing farmers to raise their output. As they work tirelessly to increase their production, more fertilizers and pesticides are sprayed, leading to a significantly less fertile soil.

According to Oxfam, in the Mekong Delta region, the average family earns $100 USD a month farming rice or about a fifth of what coffee growers in the north receive. Vietnam’s farmers have the lowest average income in the country, and in South-East Asia, they lie only above Cambodia.

----------
A worker in Can Tho, Mekong Delta.

Crossing the road in Vietnam has become a chaotic exercise. It's like a competition amongst tourists here to demonstrate who is the most fearless. So without hesitation,you just walk and pretend it's the norm, secretly certain you'll be killed.

A girl plays with her tricycle in the back streets of Nha Trang. 
Nha Trang, one of the strangest places I've been. I was unaware that it was an insanely popular tourist destination for Russians. Every third restaurant had a Russian language option on their menus, and almost every other tourist there was Russian. 
If you want cheap vodka and a good spot on the beach, though, then this is the place for you.

Plastic ponchos are ubiquitous when the rain sets in here. All of the motorbikes look like they're been driven by minions.

Clam catching: these guys work tirelessly trawling for clams in the estuary of Hoi An. They start early in the morning and work well into the evening; some even work under torchlight after dark. They sell to the local market, about a ilometre from where this was taken. If they're lucky, they'll receive around $3-4 USD a kilo for what they catch. Oh, and there's a thin layer of quicksand to work with, too.

In 2015 alone, Thailand had close to thirty million tourists pass through its doors. In 2012, a list released by Instagram that identified the most photographed locations worldwide showed that Thailand's main airport (Suvarnabhumi) and shopping mall (Siam Paragon) were ranked number one and two respectively. The tourism industry is so enormous there, that when including the indirect effects of tourism, it accounts for over twenty percent of their entire GDP. However, a booming tourism industry doesn't always bring great things: many of the visitors save their worst behaviour for the bars and clubs of Khao San Road. I visited in the low season but a stroll down "Debauchery Lane" still provided an abundance of sights.

The "Mrs Ha" stall sits directly across from the Sun Boat Hotel in Hoi An and is operated by eponymous Mrs Ha herself. Mrs Ha holds an almost legendary status amongst the tourists here. 
Sipping on a beer at one of her two small tables she has set up by the water, we tell her about our holiday, as she listens gleefully. In a brief tender moment, she tells us of her hard days travelling all the way to Da Nang selling food as a street vendor; and of her father's death in '73, as a soldier fighting the Americans. 
Two Australians meander out of the hotel and immediately turn to her and ask "Big rain, or little rain."
"Little rain" she replies, not missing a beat. Comforted they won't be soaked, and with full faith in Mrs Ha, they make their way into town. "I can get you anything you need here. Just ask Mrs Ha!" she exclaims to us. 
She proudly shows us her notebook full of glowing reviews from travellers, all of them raving about their long chats with her and the invaluable advice they received. Her shifts are long: some begin at 4am and finish at midnight, yet she has an unfaltering smile for all of those twenty hours. 
Over the coming days, we watch tourists and expats recognise each other and engage in casual catch-ups. Bemused, I asked the aforementioned Australian man, Jason, if we'd coincidentally stumbled across an unofficial club at the Sun Boat Hotel. "I think so." He replies. "But we don't come here for the hotel; we all come here for Mrs Ha."

Rented a motorbike to get out of town for the day and these two were on the side of the road. He spoke next to no English, so after about a dozen attempts at getting their name, all I could decipher was that the buffalo was pregnant - and that it was apparently a comfortable chair.

I was walking through the local markets here in Hoi An when this woman called me over to take a photo of her, making a big display and miming the snapping of a photo. I happily obliged. 
As soon as I took it, her smile reversed, she glared at me over her brow and began demanding a dollar for the photo. I explained that I didn't have any cash on me, so I showed her the screen as I deleted two of the images I took, hoping that would satisfy her instead. She lost it and yelled louder. 
Amused, and worried she may smack me with one of the many dead fish from the next door's stall, I very bravely backed away.