On Hot, Tired Days – A Passage To Your Inner India

Inner India (No Disrespect Intended)

I thought this morning of a new solution for those, like me, who are having a hard time with the hot muggy doldrums of mid-summer:  find your inner India.

Stop it–don’t groan.  (Especially you who have actually been to India.)

I’m not advising you to find the inner India of flies, squalor, unremitting aridity or humidity (depending upon your location and the monsoon cycle), the smell of burning polyurethane—

I mean the India of cool marble floors where your bare feet moistly slab slab slab, the India of shaded mosaic archways of palaces…er…mausoleums, the India of leafy Banyan trees and purification baths (delicious even if taken with bucket and cup), of endless people to watch and to be watched by, people who squat imperturbably in the midst of chaos or sameness for a very very long time, certain, or nearly certain, that there will be another life beside the one that they are currently enduring; the India of hot spiced chai, and where there is airconditioning, of air so frigid you feel your lips turning blue.

Keep in mind those lessons that are available nearly everywhere but are so quickly learned upon the Subcontinent,  i.e. (i) that there are many many forces beyond your control; (ii)  that yes, you have been cheated but there’s no use worrying about it; and (iii) that you should be really really careful of what you eat.

Don’t expect even that little boy who seemed so charming to have sold you real saffron.  (Is pink food so terrible?   He had a beautiful smile, a genuine chuckle.)

Above all, even when you feel like you are wading through an opaque sameness of muggy weekday after muggy weekday, try to find the good in the difficult, the wonderful in the ordinary (the cow in the doorway, the bubble in the Naan, the cardomom in what would otherwise still be wonderful tea).   Don’t be rushed,  don’t let anyone pressure you,  find a hat that you will actually wear.

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