India
 |
The Good Ones In late spring of 2009, I visited India for the first time, eager to explore a country that I had dreamed of visiting for years. When I arrived, it was with all the arrogance of a seasoned traveler….Read more >> |
|
|
|
 |
Elephants, Camels, Monkeys and More Lurching up the hill toward Jaipur’s Amber Fort on a brightly painted elephant, I saw my grandchildren grinning back at me from the elephant just ahead. Relaxing my grip on the flimsy wooden platform, I remembered how often we’d enjoyed reading books about Babar the elephant. At that moment, spending August in steamy India didn’t seem like such a crazy idea after all. Read more >> |
|
|
|
 |
Gods and Gurus We get into their jeep and take a free ride to the police station. On the way we pass a body lying beside the road, a dead pilgrim from the night. Read more >> |
|
|
|
 |
Sai is Everywhere Sit in line! Sit in line!“ An old, thin and surprisingly strong Italian lady is shouting at a voluptuous Indian woman who is, apparently, trying to queue-jump. Read more >> |
|
|
|
 |
We Might Die “We might die”, says my boyfriend. “But if we don’t, it’s going to be a great experience.” Ladakh, “the land of high passes”, is India’s sparsely populated northernmost part, surrounded by some of the highest mountains in the world. Read more >> |
|
|
|
 |
The Calcutta Railway Riot (Winner of the Local Culture Category in the Intrepid Travel Contest) My life began in earnest the day I accidentally started a riot in a railway station in Calcutta, India. Sure the prior twenty-three years had their highlights, but I wouldn’t have my own business, or the passion for India that I do had it not been for that little skirmish. Read more >> |
|
|
|
 |
Sankranthi in a Town Called Hampi I hear the incessant pounding of a drum as we walk around the corner towards our guesthouse. A man steps in front of me, his face is elaborately painted with colored powders. His mouth is wide open. A knife pierces his cheek… Read more >> |
|
|
|
 |
The Noogieing Sadhu Finally the power flickers back on. We are still in our orderly line, three planeloads, waiting with passports damp in our hands. Giant fans creak back to life. The line becomes a snake, a spiral, a labyrinth suffocating on its own accumulated breath. Read more >> |
|
|
|
 |
Only Happy in India “You happy?” my driver Satheesh asked with his usual energetic smile. I had met my driver at the Bangalore Airport in India and this had been, and would continue to be, our typical daily conversation. Read more >> |
|
|
|
 |
How the Other Half Lives In Mumbai, I flit in and out of the two Indias. One is on the streets, right up front – the beggars, the pavement dwellers, the slums, the street children, the tiny laborers who pick through the litter for recyclables when they should be laughing on a playground. It’s noisy, in your face, assaulting you. Read more >> |
|
|
|
 |
Taken for a Ride “Tell the taxi-wallah to cross the Yumana River using Matura Bridge, not any other bridge. After crossing, tell him….” Sujata’s rhythmic right, left, right instructions left me dizzy. “They’ll take advantage of you,” she continued in her sing-song cadence. “You foreigners don’t know taxi drivers like we do.” Read more >> |
Powered by 
