Winter Warmer

Four years ago, when I left India, I was secretly impressed that I was still alive and able to do so. I genuinely had no idea that I would ever go back, and certainly I would never go alone without Lori to protect me from frogs and lizards.

Well, a few months ago - I was invited to come back to India and teach at the Asian College of Journalism in Madras. They offered to fly me there and pay for my accommodation and it was too good an opportunity to turn down.

And so, on a cold and wintry New Year's Day, I set out from Chicago and flew off to India - via Frankfurt and London (needed to pop in for a cup of tea). 24 hours of flying.....

When I arrived in Madras it was 1:00 a.m. and very hot. It hits you like a wet kipper and makes you look instantly ridiculous wearing a jumper and thick trousers. And so I waited, with my other passengers to go through immigration. In the line in front of me was a German chap who struck up conversation with me to pass the time. He was carrying a duty-free bag, which he told me contained a bottle of fine whiskey. "You cannot get good whiskey in India", he said, "so thank God I have brought my own!". At this point he put the plastic bag back on the marble floor of the immigration hall and there was a loud crack. I nearly saw a grown man cry, as all his whiskey seeped from the bag and into the hall.

Quickly, I was met by a driver outside the airport, who whisked me away to my hotel - or guest house - and I collapsed into bed at 3:30 a.m. in a state of surreal disbelief that once again, I would fall sleep in India. Except, I really didn't. The jet lag had descended like a fog. Being 11 and a half hours ahead of America is quite nice - I like the notion of most of my friends living in yesterday, but I am struggling to accept the time zone my body is now in.

So I awoke to the smell of dusty air and a sticky heat covered my skin like an adhesive lacquer. The first thing was breakfast - my caretaker cooks all my meals for me as well as making my bed and cleaning my room everyday. I soon found out that unless you say 'STOP', he will keep making food for you and bring in such things as platefuls of six sizzling eggs, bacon unidentifiable animals, chicken with an assortment of glutinous matter attached and enough toast to make chest padding armor for future plane flights.

I managed about two bites and was done. I was rather ashamed. He returned to the kitchen and then I heard him shout several times very loudly and violently.

I have no idea whether I was the reason why.