Sleepful night

It feels good after a relatively sleepful night, doesn’t it?

The coffee seems to come out better and you seem to get things done better. You seem to reach places on time (or before, in my case) and you receive good words from physical therapists.

All of this happened. Happenstance or coincidence. But it did start with a night of restful sleep.

That too, one after watching the wonderful movie Awakenings. Not sure how I didn’t watch it until 33 years after its release. Robin Williams and Robert De Niro are exceptional.

My physical therapist did say good things — that I can get rid of my walking stick right away and I can be off brace in another two weeks. I really hop that I can soon start jogging or brisk walking in the park that I used to frequent.

Then I went, with J and his close friends, to a new breakfast place I kinda randomly discovered. Expensive but worth visiting, especially because there will be doggos around. I spent about 10 minutes petting someone’s dog in the hour and a quarter we spent there.

I spent the afternoon learning sketching and water coloring. Pretty disastrous results with the latter. Feel like a total amateur, especially trying to attain some definition.

Evening meal at Bademiya. Didn’t enjoy it at all. There is no nostalgia for me especially when things are so fucking loud in the popular joints in Mumbai.

Tomorrow I’m back home, which means more sport-watching and sketching.

Clean Creativity

I honestly don’t have an answer as to why I am still living in Mumbai. The dust/smoke pollution is now even making the rounds in property ads, where websites/apps are advertising themselves to be proficient in telling customers/clients who bad areas in the city are to live. Until you live in a dustbowl of a city like Mumbai—I don’t know if there is a dustier metropolis out there—you won’t know the joys of the evening of a day of dusting, swabbing, tidying, and new set of bed linen.

Yesterday was one such day, when I felt comfortable in being in my own apartment without drifting into thinking how I continue to live in the dusty mess. The surprising thing is that the feeling continued to sustain through today as well, despite the view out the window gently drifting to a sepia/smog shot from a post-apocalyptic show/movie (the post-nuclear fallout Fear The Walking Dead, for example).

Spent a bunch of time reading and sketching. My first day using graphite pencils (Darwent), and it was a different experience. I should have something more to say than different, but I guess it is such a new experience that I don’t really have anything else to say. I might need to get better stationery to use these pencils, because most of my sketching was done on a sketching pad meant for watercolors.

By evening, I wanted an evening out. I hadn’t stepped out for the whole weekend as well. So I decided to take the Metro to explore a new Keralite restaurant (Just Kerala Hotel, Andheri East). The food was exceptionally tasty, but it’s on the more expensive side for Mallu food. I even had a couple of beers.

I returned home to see that my color pencil set has also arrived. The clean (relative) home does make me feel like I should try them out tonight itself. But before I did, I had to write something, and that’s exactly what I am doing now.

A former Mumbai medical resident’s take on the suicide of a Mumbai medical resident

I’m a former medical resident from Mumbai. I am in a Whatsapp group with my peers from Medical College. As expected, there is an active conversation in the group about the suicide of the Dalit doctor in Mumbai, allegedly due to casteist slurs by senior residents. Along with that there is a relatively healthy conversation about religion, hindutva, NDA, the 2019 elections, Modi etc. I generally keep myself quiet in this because of several reasons. But I decided to break my silence and ended up posting this.
Considering that I did my post graduation from Mumbai, I guess I can throw some light on this. It's a bit of a rant, but I hope to address a few points.

Racism (regionalism) and ragging/discrimination go hand in hand in my hospital. In my case, casteism was not applicable because I was born to Brahmin parents. But I did get discriminated for being from the the South, being different, being a musician, etc. despite being not too bad at Hindi. The people who perpetrated  the coincidental happened to be, voila, upper caste Hindus.

This discrimination is more among the senior residents upward. The nurses, assistants, and staff were super nice to me. So I was able to pull through.

I had to isolate myself from orthopedics/surgery etc residents because these departments seemed to have more people with such tendencies. I thankfully got a resident from psychiatry (someone who thought like Sebind, ironically) as a room mate. That led me to me hanging out more among his friends. Eventually, I came out to them and they were super cool with that.

In other words, I was more accepted by residents from other departments who were generally broadminded.

Most of you don't know that that I have been under treatment for depression. You may remember that I was on the quieter side of things in my first three years in our college. I have had suicidal tendencies through my undergraduate, postgraduate, post-postgraduate lives.

I eventually got diagnosed and treated at the end of my postgraduate tenure. One of the reasons that I took a sabbatical was because of this discrimination/ragging aspect, which seeps through the hierarchy everywhere, but especially in North India in surgical fields. As someone said, for every publicized suicide, there may have been 10s not publicized, 100s of suicide attempts, and 1000s of victims who have somehow managed to pull through. Like me.

What about Mumbai itself? I get discriminated on a regular basis because I'm South Indian and because I'm dark. Restaurants, pubs, hotels, live events, what not.

The common denominator in all of this is this. Lack of "education", relative upper caste origin, religiousness, lack of evidence-based thinking, all leading up to herd mentality and lack of tolerance.

Guess what drives all of this? The current government. They may not commit or admit to atrocities, but they still don't clamp down on happenings. There is no open stance apart from empty platitudes. Who are they serving? The corporations. Who's benefiting? Upper caste more than lower castes. Who's feeling insecure? Any minority, let it be religion, caste, orientation, gender, etc.

Whatever truths/lies people want to tell themselves to put a coat of paint on what's going on, I will not believe it because I'm a minority in many counts, despite being born upper caste.

And the irony is that these trends are so evident in my own family/extended family, my partner's family, my ex-orthopedic peers, and some among us here.

Guess some of you may get a hint of why I (have preferred) prefer to distance myself from some of these. Basically, I'm trying to protect myself.

All I have to say is this - the world is going darker for the minorities, including the economic one. This is being driven by religion, which is one of the most potent forces that can be harnessed to bring and keep people to power. Such trends are cyclical (~20 years), but the extent of damage unleashed on the persecutees can take 100s of years to reverse.

Everybody else is doing it, so why can't we?

I guess most people of my age have heard the title catch phrase because of the debut album of the '90s band The Cranberries. What people don't realize is that this phrase is a catch phrase of India as a nation. Why else would everyone do things that are outright stupid and unproductive? For example:

• Why would people ride motor bikes on sidewalks, scaring the shit out of pedestrians, and feel no guilt?
• Why would people walk at a slower pass flinging their arms around without being aware of how they are being jerks by obstructing and impeding pedestrian traffic?
• Why would people out-honk each other at red lights?
• Why would people talk so loud in public transport setting so that everyone else is forced to listen to their dinner plans?
• Why do people spit out of cars in traffic-congested roads?
• Why do people push and shove each other despite realizing that it is not going to achieve what they think it would?

The only way to rationalize--yes, I'm ashamed to--is this: everyone thinks that it is okay to do all this because everybody else is doing it and; so they can and should as well. I believe such behavior starts in childhood. Why? Probably because of the lack of proper nurturing opportunities, the lack of infrastructure, poverty, the paucity of resources.

Is there a way out? Maybe in a couple of generations. When/if the present generation try to educate their offspring about what could be done differently?

Oh yes, for those who think that this happens everywhere around the world and not just in India, here's an analogy. Religious extremism happens everywhere in the world, but it is sort of more common in the Middle East. So...

Life shouldn't be a series of things that need fixing

Life shouldn't be a series of things that need fixing.

— Krishna Kumar V. (@krishna_kumar_v) June 5, 2015

I can't believe my own life, which seems like a series of unfortunate events I'm being dragged through. Despite me planning and coordinating than most people I know, I am annoyed with the chaotic sequence of events.

After I returned after my vacation, I spent about a week staying over at the boyfriend's place. The first day after I returned, I spent almost half the day trying to put things away and sort things out at his apartment. I was overwhelmed by the things that seemed to be staring at me to get done, and I voiced my concerns to the boyfriend.

At work, things are generally smooth, but I am generally disappointed by people not pulling their weight in activities where I eventually need to do extra just to cover up for them.

When I came back to my apartment a few days back, I found that my TV tuner card was not working and my AC was not cooling well enough. I immediately started fixing things.

Two nights back, I went to the electronics store where I was told that they don't have a cheap replacement adapter for my card, and they asked me to come later. After a series of calls, I got my AC guy to visit and service my AC late the same night. After apparently servicing it, he said that it would work well for 6 to 8 months.

Yesterday night, I came back at 2 am after a rehearsal and found that the AC was not working. I spent the night in my very warm and uncomfortable apartment. Today morning, I called my AC guy who said that he would need to take a look at the unit when there is still daylight.

Temperature outside: 32C Temperature in my apartment: 35C Temperature at my desk in my kitchen: 40C #Mumbai

— Krishna Kumar V. (@krishna_kumar_v) June 5, 2015

After talking to my mangers at work and adjusting my work, I came home early to let the AC guy in. The usual guy sent two junior guys, who told me that there was something wrong with the unit and they needed to take it to their service center and fix it. They said it will at least take 24 hours. So no AC for tonight.

After they went with the unit, I called the electronics store to confirm that the replacement adapters had arrived. I started to the store -- of course, I couldn't find a rickshaw, thanks to chaotic mess Andheri West is. At the shop, I tried the adapters that they had ordered. None worked.

Of course, they didn't seem interested in helping me out in any other way. I decided that it was pointless to try and find an adapter. So I decided on buying a new TV tuner card! When I did, their card machine wouldn't work and it took them about 15 minutes to fix it.

When I was waiting for the card machine to start working, I was told by my friends in the book club that they won't be able to make it because of commitments at work. Mind you, we had planned it five weeks in advance, and they canceled it about 1 hour before the meeting was about to happen. I can't believe this.

I came back home with the TV tuner card and found out that my LED rope was not working. I took it down to the shop from where I had bought it -- those guys, so unprofessional, tried to fix it and damaged a component right in front of my eyes. Then, they said that it had been damaged and needed replacement. Of course, I bought the replacement, but when I told them that they had damaged it, they just shook their head in typical Indian style.

By the time I eventually got home, I was very frustrated. I found solace in a Skype chat with Billy with some Budweiser Magnum to cool me down. After I finished the chat, I decided to go to bed and texted the boyfriend.

He restarted what seems to be an endless series of text messaging-based attention-seeking behavior that seems to happen each time I spend time at my own apartment. He asked me questions like "Why are you avoiding me?" Of course, I was not avoiding him -- I am just trying to fix things. If only he would understand that it would help if our communication wasn't a thing that needed fixing.

To make tonight perfect, all I need is my power to go, internet to be down, PC to crash, wallet to be lost, and phone to get stolen. #Mumbai

— Krishna Kumar V. (@krishna_kumar_v) June 5, 2015

Home, Worrisome Home

The phrase "home, sweet home"* does not make a lot of sense, at least in my own life.  All these seemingly glorified images of coming home, kicking back your shoes, and enjoying the treasures of life, do not seem to resonate with my life living in Mumbai. Although I am partnered, I don't live in with my partner. In fact, I need to divide by "home time" between three locations. All of these locations have issues that need fixing. 

What is this bullshit that I hear about people going home to relax? Why don't we also start believing in fairies and magic beans?

— Krishna Kumar V. (@krishna_kumar_v) June 2, 2015

First of all, I need to make it to the place I am staying over on any particular night through the chaotic mess referred to as public transportation. This is probably the most stressful part of my day. People on the roads seem to be so low in self-esteem that they seem to channel their anger/rage through horns and bizarre driving. Of course, the remarkably unintuitive traffic rules/regulations don't help.

Once I reach my destination, there are dozens of things that need to be done, including chores and errands, and my time is usually spent in fixing things. Apart from these are the things that you need to tackle in other supposedly pleasurable aspects of your life--news to catch up with, e-mails to respond, people to communicate with, socializations to be planned, shows to watch/listen, photos to work on, songs to work on, things to rehearse, and books to finish.

By the time you are done with a couple of these things, you are so exhausted and want to go to bed. In bed, you drift away worrying about how to tackle the pending issues and about not getting enough sleep that night. When you wake up, you feel tired and you have to start to work.

The trend of finding home as a stressful aspect of life is not something that I have picked up after moving to Mumbai. For most of my life with my family, I dreaded going home and confront my parents and/or relatives. I used to like going over to my friends' places because I found them more open, inviting, and stress-free.

So tell me again--where's the "sweet" part of our own homes?

(PS: If you are wondering about the punctuation of the phrase, please check this link.)

Don't Stress

People often tell me that I should not stress so much. When most of the stress is caused by the uncertainty associated with miscommunication and lack of punctuality, I don't see a frigging way out

The irony is that some of those who tell me to stop involving with people who don't communicate well and aren't punctual aren't punctual/communicative themselves. What the hell am I supposed to do with them, especially if you are dependent on them for something or the other - love, work, music, friendship, etc.

I often times get caught up with stuff - and it's very easy to get stuck with stuff in a chaotic metropole like Mumbai. But, almost always, I make it a point to communicate early, with clarity and without ambiguity as to the fact that I may be late. Darn, I even give them an approximate time that I'd be able to make and revise that time if something changes.

I wish people would strive to be better communicators.

Life In Mumbai

Overheard conversation in the office elevator:

Indian Man 1: "So how was the experience to moving back to Mumbai and India?"

Indian Man 2: "For several years, I was living in war-torn countries like Iraq, Afghanistan, Congo, etc. So I thought it would be a piece of cake. It turned out to be very difficult."

Silence.

Indian Man 1: "If living in Congo is relatively easier, Mumbai needs to really get its act together."

Now I know why Vinokur, when he left from Mumbai, declared that he hated the city and that he would never come back to Mumbai. Ever.

Crazy. Cool. Scary.

Six days into his first visit to Mumbai, Joe made plans to go out on his own to explore the city. Not just on a cab or a rickshaw – he had plans to travel by the overcrowded suburban railway network. Mind you, he can’t speak/understand Hindi, and people can barely understand when he says things like ‘Andheri Station’.

When I left him at the apartment for work, I didn’t know how the hours were going to pass by. What if he would get lost? What if something would happen to him? What if someone swindles him?

Of course, he had a mobile phone with him and we kept in touch by SMS. Incredibly enough, the few lessons that I had given him in getting a rickshaw, deciding which train to take, and getting into the first-class compartment were enough for him to get around by himself.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I read the text message ‘Honey, I’m back home and safe. I had a wonderful day out in the city’ at around 5 pm.

I can’t explain how proud I was. My baby had done the almost impossible! I gave him a big fat hug and a long kiss when he greeted me at the door when I came back home from work. He deserved it!

The first weekend

So, we sink right in to each other, literally. No major issues apart from the fact that I’m rather overwhelmed by the kindness and affection, which I have longed for so long. I had taken an off on Friday to make this a three-day weekend.

So, we do South Mumbai Friday, visiting all the usual destinations and settling for a late lunch at Léopold's. I was amazed to know that Joe wasn’t aware of the terror attacks on the city three years back. I tried to give him some background as to why the Indian public might not really dig the idea of a white person photographing their city (thanks to David Headley and Slumdog Millionaire). Then, we met my best friend Craigie and had a fun night out at a bar, where as usual, Craigie made the waiters blush with his antics. We also learned how Chicken Lollipops are made.

On Saturday, we do the essential American grocery shopping at Hypercity in the morning, again with the ever resourceful Craigie, settle to stay in for the rest of the afternoon, and go out for a romantic candle-lit dinner in the evening, where Joe tastes authentic Indian cuisine for the first time. Not bad, I thought. I realize that he’s not the kind to like extremely spicy/hot food.

On Sunday, it was newspapers + coffee + breakfast in the morning, followed by Joe’s first experience of watching a cricket match – the India v WI ODI. It went rather well, I thought. Joe showed some interest in understanding cricket, but like a typical American, was clueless about it in the first place. The most memorable part of the day was smoked cheese over crackers along with beer.

By the way, Joe is a fantastic cook and he loves cooking for me. He’s not as much of a drinker as I am but joins in. He also doesn’t hate cricket and loves hanging out. Things look good so far.

Bookings done!

Juggling parents, work, music, and the boyfriend, and trying to give them adequate time can be quite a task. Especially, if you don't really know what talk about with your parents when you come home. Yet, in in the middle of all that, after confirmation from Joe (the boyfriend), I have finalized and made all the reservations for the year-end trip to South India.

We start from Mumbai, go to Goa, then to Thiruvananthapuram, then to Chennai, and finally back to Mumbai. Most of the traveling is by train because Joe wants to "experience" how Indians travel. Well, I hope it works out well because "how" Indians travel is not acceptable to most around the world.

Working on Independence Day

National holiday. Working day for me because my company needed to. Of course, I get paid for working extra. But that’s not the real perk.

The most beautiful thing about working on a national holiday is the peace. Everything, from bus stops, to buses, to roads, to offices, to pantries -everything is quieter. There are less people around. The city, the office - everything feels so much more peaceful.

You know, when people from smaller cities and towns (especially from abroad) tell me that they might not like to live in Mumbai, I never really thought about what they said. In their lives, every day is like a national holiday. Everything is peaceful, calm, and less crowded.

Coming to think of it, I might like living in such a town. Not now, sometime in the future.

I don’t get Ganpati, I really don’t.

I hate most festivals. I think they are noisy and intrusive. Those who don’t celebrate them have every right to lead their lives the way they do every other day when such festivals are around. But we can’t. At least in Mumbai. Ganpati is one of the worst. I don’t celebrate Ganpati. Yet, I have to pay Rs. 700/- for the Housing Societiy’s Ganpati celebration fund. What bull crap. I don’t give a shit. The only positive thing is that the money will eventually go out of my landlord’s pocket and not mine.

Care for some sane opinion?

Unfortunately, it’s the same shit all over again. Television, newspapers, rants, opinions… wait a minute, there is something different this time around. And that is Twitter! With Twitter, you get access to the thoughts of free-thinking individuals which are, trust me, far better than the farce the put on TV these days.

Yes, Mumbai’s resilience needs to be sent back to the cupboard. But if you want to some sane opinion on issues such as this, as well as cricket, from an intelligent Mallu, of course, here’s what you have to follow – @prempanicker on Twitter.

Another attack

I got to know about this as I was riding a bus from work back to work. From Twitter. I was the first one in the bus to know. Then I got a call from my sister. Even though the conversation was in Malayalam, a few of the fellow commuters picked up the tone and the mention of the bombs and asked me what was happening.

I told them that I had read on Twitter about the Opera House + Dadar blasts. Then, they all started dialing their dear ones. They all got signal jams. Twitter was the only thing that was working. I sent an SMS out to my Mom and my sister telling them that I had reached home safely. I didn’t turn on the telly. Instead, I followed the events unfolding on the internet and Twitter.

What do I have to say about the attacks? Just that I think they are disappointing. Just because of their frequency/regularity and the apparent inefficiency of the authorities to prevent them despite heightened intelligence. I am sorry for those who have lost their dear ones. And yes, Mumbai won’t be showing it’s resilience this time around. It’s about time we started taking this as a serious issue and started working towards eliminating such attacks.

The ride of death

I don’t understand why some rick drivers do this. Fast, brash, without apparent knowledge of any traffic law. Today, I endured one such ride. I think he almost ran the rick into something big and heavy almost three times. And all the three times, I hoped that we would crash.

Yes, I would have been a martyr then. I would have technically taken the rick driver off the road and saved others lives.

The only good thing about it – I got to work earlier that I otherwise would have.

What do you call this?

So, I met this guy from Canada. He was born and brought up in India in the early days of independent India. He spent about the first couple of decades of his life in India (in Mumbai and in a boarding school somewhere nearby). Of course, he is gay. He realized back when he as a school-going child. And of course, he is handsome. And he is white.

Gay. Handsome. White. Kid.

What does that read to an average Indian boarding school-going kid who is elder to him?

Sex.

That’s as simple as that. Apparently, he was raped many a time (not always sodomized, but he was a few times, and that’s why he doesn’t like sodomy that much anymore). He claims that it was fairly common for this activity to be happening back in the ‘50s and guesses that it might still be.

I guess, India is far from homophobic then, isn’t it? Homophilic, perhaps. And what do you call this behavior? I know it is illegal to have sex with minors. But this phenomenon is not quite pedophilia, is it?

Danny Lehmann visit - Day 1

Something quite incredible happened today. A truly extraordinary circle of life was completed! I met Vinokur’s best friend Danny Lehmann, a master photographer and a wonderful human being, and hung out with him all through the afternoon and evening. I still remember Vinokur introducing me and Danny to each other three years ago on Skype. Little did we know that such a thing would happen! That’s the mystery of life.


Danny was in Mumbai as part of a photographic assignment to India. He's trying to capture images that symbolize the rise of India as a financial and information technology superpower. He had already been to Delhi, Agra, and Jaipur and had captured the some iconic images from there. Vinokur had let me known that Danny was in India but I hadn’t a clue that he was visiting Mumbai until yesterday when Vinokur asked me if I could help Danny by finding some guide/friend kinda person who would help Danny get around the city taking photos.

Even though I asked around, I wasn’t able to find anyone to accompany Danny. For starters, I arranged for Danny to visit the Bandra-Worli sealink and take pictures of it through my contacts. Then, I promised him that I would meet him Sunday afternoon and take him around town to see if he could find some interesting things to catch on camera. I had rehearsal in the morning and I rushed down to Churchgate on my way to the Trident where Danny was staying.

It was incredible to run into him at the lobby where he was waiting for me. I couldn’t quite believe what was happening when we exchanged greetings. We felt an instant connect – through our common, dear friend Vinokur – and felt comfortable with each other immediately. We went up to his room, looked at the map, and planned our outing for the night. We rented a cab and went to the BSE (which was cordoned off for photography), Girgaum Chowpatty, Haji Ali, Phoenix Mills, and Atria mall (both malls were off-limits for photographers too).

Danny finally ended up choosing Girgaum Chowpatty as the location for shooting some prolonged-exposure shots of the skyline just after sunset. After he set the tripod up and his adjusted his camera to take pictures, we had a 15-strong crowd of locals as audience. One young man, who seemed to be extremely interested in photography, almost acted like a bouncer for us shooing off random people from straying across the camera’s field and around the tripod.

After Danny’s got his share of pics, we went back to the room and deposited the camera and the tripod, freshened ourselves up and headed out for a dinner at a pub at the Marine Plaza hotel. I can’t quite remember the name of the pub, but the ambiance was excellent. We had draft beer and a hamburger each. The conversation was brilliant and funny and ranged from Libya to photography to women.

My next date with Danny seems to be on Tuesday afternoon because I couldn’t get leave from work on Monday and I have to work half-day on Tuesday. Hoping for another masterclass in human company and photography!

Apartments, careers, and more

It’s that time of the year – time to renew the lease to my apartment. Last year this time, I had decided that I had to move out from my studio apartment to something better. Of course, I wasn’t earning anything near what I needed to do that. The most ironic thing is that I still am not.

Yes, my editing job and music put together don’t give me enough to justify a decision to rent out something more comfortable. I want to make one thing clear - I am not whining about my career choices. Well, not yet. Although I am scared of the prospect of getting back to surgery one day – I have regular nightmares about the same - I am still not ruling it out.

So, I think I’ll stay back in my apartment one more year. Maybe, next year this time, I would be earning enough to make me confident of moving into a bigger, more comfortable apartment. And maybe, I’ll have someone – a lover – to share it with. As someone told me the other day, the main reason why society is built on partnerships is because two incomes make life much easier.

Delhi Trip - Day 4

The last day of our trip started out with a heavy breakfast – as usual – at the rooftop restaurant. Both me and my friend had to catch morning flights to our destinations. The hotel arranged for a car to drop us at the airport. Because my friend was going to the International terminus T3, we dropped him off first. The taxi driver took Rs. 200 extra from me to take me to the domestic terminus – that’s how cut-throat these Delhi cabbies can be. That’s one of the reasons why I dislike Delhi. It is a beautiful place, but conveyance is a pain in the neck. I think the metro is a fantastic thing to have happened to Delhi and has made intra-city travel so much easier.

My flight was delayed by 2 hours primarily because of fog and secondarily because of (what I feel) as the sheer ineptitude of Go Air, the airline which I was flying. Despite my breakfast, I felt hungry and had to grab a miniaturised chicken zinger burger from the KFC and a coffee from the Costa Coffee before I boarded the flight at around 1 pm. There is nothing much to write home about regarding the flight except that it hovered in the Mumbai airspace for close to 20 minutes because of airtime congestion. Darned! Had I been home on time, I could have worked half-day and saved that much of leave.

I took an auto-rickshaw back home from the airport. Unlike Delhi, I asked the rickshaw-wallah to put on the meter and he obliged. That’s the beauty of Mumbai. On the ride in the rickshaw, I carefully surveyed the roads of Mumbai and compared them with those in Delhi. One thing is certain – Delhi might be brilliant, spacious, and beautiful in some parts. But it can’t beat Mumbai in terms of consistency and charm. Of course, conveyance is the other glaring “fail” of Delhi.

After reaching back home late in the evening, I started working on the photos and my blog posts so that you can read all this. All in all, it was a fabulous trip to Delhi and I had the wonderful company of a charming man! We sure are looking forward to our next trip together. Maybe it will be to Goa!