I just dug out an old essay I wrote in 2002 after a trip to India. To quote John Irving from his great book A Son of the Circus, this blog “isn’t about India. I don’t know India. I was there only once, for less than a month.” Rather, New Delhi gave me some food for thought on broader issues. Still seems pretty fresh (I hope) even a decade later. Sorry, no original images – it was before I had a digital camera. One day I’ll get around to scanning those old films…

New Delhi, India
March 14, 2002

The road ahead is so packed that I – a curious shopper – barely make my way through the kaleidoscope of rainbow fabrics stacked to the roof of every street stand, beads sparkling in henna-embellished hands of merchants, and pots constantly spouting ginger- and cardamom-spiced clouds that tantalize passers-by to stop for a snack. Once in a while, an enormous purple blossom drops heavily from a nearby tree right in the middle of this fantastic scene, quickly crushed by a rushing foot, rickshaw, or hoof into what seems like a crimson vein nourishing the place. Typical spring day at the Sarojini Nagar market… Read the rest of this entry →