I didn’t realize that I hadn’t been feeling like myself until I suddenly felt like myself again. I was somewhere in rural northeastern India, on an overnight train heading towards the India-Nepal border. As I woke up, I glimpsed out the window and caught a view of the sun rising over endless rice paddies and a handful of water buffalo wading neck-deep in a waterhole. The tranquility of the image snapped me back to reality. I’d been in a city for far too long. I was so caught up in the fast-paced lifestyle – the nights of dancing and the convenience at having everything no farther than my fingertips – that I wasn’t even aware that I was losing balance. Cities are fun, but when it comes down to it, I’m not a city girl. I ... read more

As always, as the time for my departure from any particular place draws near, I give in to ruminations on the lessons an area and its people have taught me. India has been perhaps the wisest, most encouraging educator I’ve had yet. I’ve learned more about myself, and the workings of this crazy world, in the past five months than the previous 26 years put together. What’s more is that I’ve become aware that I’m learning lessons, even as they are being taught. Before, it was only in hindsight – from a safe emotional and physical distance – that I could look back and the see the inherent value in any particular situation; the reason why I met certain people or faced certain situations. The newfound ability to directly discern the merits of a given circumstance ... read more

Bombay. Mumbai. The city of seven islands, and even more names. Legend has it that when the Portuguese first anchored their ships in the natural harbor created by a series of mangrove-covered islands off India’s western coast, they called the area Bom Bahia, the good port. Anyone with a working knowledge of the Portuguese language can tell you that there’s a discrepancy between the masculine adjective and the feminine noun in this name, but so the story goes. Throughout its long history, the island city has additionally been known as Mamba Raksasha, Manbai, Mambe, Mumbadevi, Bambai, and countless other names, until 1995, when the native Maharashtrians christened it Mumbai. But everyone I met still calls it Bombay. Forgive me if I follow suit. There’s nothing I can say about Bombay that hasn’t already been said (better). ... read more

I arrived in Bombay a week before the monsoon was due. For those of you who have ever visited or lived in a tropical climate, I don’t have to tell you that it’s the worst time of year to turn up. It’s hot and humid, thick and sticky. It gives you the impression that you’ve turned into a steamed vegetable. Just sitting and staring at the fan is enough make you sweat; ingesting gallons of water becomes a daily requirement to replace the fluid lost in perspiration from your upper lip alone. Every day, you search the sky for a sign that the rains will come and cool you down. But, this year, the search was in vain. The monsoon was late in Bombay. To escape the heat one day, a few friends and I went ... read more

You can get an Indian driver’s license if you were Indian in a past life. Road signs urge parents to “Never Encourage Your Children to Drive!” Cows take siestas on sidewalks and elephants walk alongside highways. There are over 330 million gods available to answer your prayers. World-renowned lamas come over for afternoon tea. Sequins aren’t reserved for special events. Tailors still make clothes. Scaffolding is built with bamboo. Guards outside of banks carry original 18thcentury muskets. People are named Vijay. Body odor is sweetened by sugar and spices. Chana masala and masala chai. The Ganga. The Indian head waggle that communicates countless exchanges, such as: Yes; I Understand; As You Wish; No Problem; Go For It, and Thank You, but No. People are capable of waiting without losing patience and are similarly nonplussed when things ... read more