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Delhi Monsoon TrafficThere’s a hotness that builds in Delhi, slowly, steadily, and painfully. It starts in April, burning, simmering, slowly into May. By June it rises to a fiery peak, scorching anyone that dares roam the streets at noon.

The monsoon, in comparison, is the break of this chronic fever. After three months of what feels like Hell on Earth, we wait for it, pray for it and hope for it. We hold out for it, as the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, or should we say the oasis in our desert? Whatever. You get my point.

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This post may make many of you question a) my sanity and b) why you are friends with me or read my blog. But in all seriousness it is a real thing, and is as absolutely insane and weird as it sounds.

I’m not sure when it started but my earliest memory of it was a rather vivid nightmare I had as a child. I probably was about 12 or 13 years old at the time. In the dream, I had this disease spreading all over my body – it was a rash except it looked exactly like mussel shells were sprouting from my skin all lined up together in a patch on my arm and spreading. The edges were razor sharp and called (appropriately) cutters. I don’t believe there was a cure. Continue Reading »

We are in Pune for the weekend. I discover the studio at lunchtime as we stop for burgers. I excuse myself from the rest of my family and race up the escalators in a shopping centre that probably holds the world record for least amount of actual retail outlets per space occupied. As I clamber up I dial my father’s cell phone and immediately change my order from vegetarian to chicken. If there’s one thing I remember about Bikram yoga, it’s that I do it better with some meat in my belly.

I haven’t done Bikram yoga since moving to Delhi last November. There is no studio there, though one may open next year. I have an amazing yoga teacher who comes to my house, but she is popular, and so I have her for only 65 minutes a week. Although I do try and keep up some small semblance of practice during the week, it’s not the same without the discipline and someone watching for where you’ll (because you really can’t help yourself) cut corners. Continue Reading »

Photo courtesy of Forbes India

Photo courtesy of Forbes India

I had the pleasure of watching my first C.I.D. episode today. Although I didn’t make it through the full episode, I allowed myself to be led through a fascinating series of plots twists and turns, each packed with ulterior motives, secret meetings, and gory bodies which are often examined in the most unusual ways.

C.I.D. is the longest running show on Indian Television. It has been criticized for being male “skewed”, and allegedly, most of it’s core audience members are children. I don’t know what that says for the future detectives of India, but we will leave that issue for another day. Continue Reading »

Telemarketing Text Messages

I’ve been in Delhi for almost two months now, and one of the things that fascinates me the most is the barrage of unsolicited marketing text messages I receive almost daily.

I have been offered lucrative “PLOTS” of all kinds in all sorts of places at all types of prices. I get an offer for a full body massage at Moksha Spa almost everyday, and my own cell phone company sends me at least five absolutely unnecessary text messages a week (the latest was about taking my child under five to get polio drops). Continue Reading »

Papa

5 years ago I got a message in the middle of the night. It was not good news.

I had never lost someone close to me (at 28 that made me pretty lucky), and the grief was surprising in it’s intensity. We all called him Papa: my parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. My Grandfather had been called that for as long as I can remember. Continue Reading »

photo-7

I have this crazy superstition that the way I spend New Year’s Eve, dictates how my year will go. It has happened a few times, so it has sort of stuck with me through the years.

On New Year’s Eve 2007, my friend Tandi and I roamed the streets of Manhattan all night, avoiding creepy strangers, bursting into giggles at the slightest provocation, searching for the bar of all bars (as defined by Tandi): Double Happiness.

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