Dancing lessons from God

There is still dirt under my fingernails from the time I slipped off the track this morning. From when I dug my fingers into its dirt – hanging there – until someone’s hand pulled me back up again. Read more »

“Twelve years. She was bleeding for twelve years.” Read more »

About two hours into a six-hour trek inland, in a clearing where we’ve stopped for a break, I meet a guy called Elvis. Read more »

“Because that’s charity too, you know,” Leah is saying to me, in between mouthfuls of icecream. Read more »

It’s lunchtime and I find myself walking into the souvenir shop opposite the market. It’s one of those really touristy places, you know, the ones that sell lavalavas at thrice the price you’d pay at the stalls across the road. Read more »

I’ve done it. I’ve become a student again. Read more »

I remember reading that bit in Shantaram when Lindsay has just arrived in Mumbai and wondering, were I to experience India myself, if my firsthand experience would even come close to the intensity of his, as he describes it in those paragraphs, so vivid and detailed is his description. Would I even notice – see, smell, feel – all those minute details? Read more »

It was probably a good thing that when I wrote that, I didn’t know that there’d be more challenges to come. Read more »

You know those comments which people make that come back to you months or even years later, when you really need them? Read more »

Written on Sunday.

The view from my window is a tie-dyed lavalava, blue and purple, flapping on a line someone’s strung up across the porch. There are three pegs fighting an ongoing battle against the wind to keep it there, and I wonder how much longer they’ll be able to keep up the fight. Read more »