Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Dust in the Wind

A windy day
In Delhi town
Dust is blowing
All is brown
I viewed my day
With such alarm
Even the monkeys
Have lost their charm
How hot I wonder
Will this day get
Step out of the car
My back is wet
Even driver
Is really blue
But then again
What else is new?

Nothing like a slap of dust in the face to bring out my inner poet... I had been told about these winds that bring dust and sand across the city. Most people complain about them, but always being one to look on the bright side and find that silver lining that comes attached to every grey cloud (and Thierry Mugler coat), I welcome these gifts from nature. To me, it is like micro-dermabrasion for the whole body. This is probably the same experience Wilma Flintstone had when she and Betty went to the Bedrock Spa… Some sand blasting and a fossil pack. And as an added bonus, one can get one’s teeth sanded as well. Just run outside and flash your biggest red carpet smile and I guarantee you an experience you will not soon forget. If only it would blast those mosquitoes away, that would be even better.

Actually, Delhi doesn’t have mosquitoes. Not at all. Delhi has flying, blood-sucking piranha. They buzz around very innocently in the air, taking in the view, checking things out, stalking their prey and then suddenly they nose dive, slam into the body and they are gone again. You blink and you miss it, yet in that time, they have managed to leave behind a nasty red bump that swells and swells for days to come.

Being in India ha definitely affected my way of thinking and I didn’t realize how much until a few days ago when I was not feeling well. I had a bit of a sinus thing and a tiny little cough, most likely brought on by the ceiling fans and air conditioning. My frail, pampered little body just isn’t used to these little gadgets. Anyway, getting back to the topic at hand, namely me, my initial suspicions were not that logical. I was convinced I was experiencing the early symptoms of malaria. In my mind I had my shivery little body all wrapped up in layer after layer of cashmere (illness is no reason to skimp on luxury).

I am a a worst-case-scenario person. If someone is a few minutes late, I assume they are lying helpless and alone by the side of the road, so the leap to malaria was not really a huge one. Yes, I am a leaper. I leap. And with pointed toes. After all, presentation is everything. I am like a figure skater and the world is my ice rink. It’s all about the jumps, turns and triple axels of everyday life that keep me going and give me the aura I carry around. Actually, this being India, perhaps I should hire someone to carry my aura for me. A sort of aura-walla. Does such a thing exist? It must. You can’t imagine how exhausting it is carting around an aura as heavy as mine. But back to malaria (I seem to have a problem staying on track today... I can only imagine it is due to extreme cocktail deprivation, but no worries, I will re-tox tonight and all will be well)

I have joined the masses of ordinary citizens, like you, who take pleasure in playing doctors at home and self diagnose. Oh, the obscure diseases I often give myself just for a laugh, but that is another story for another time. So, where was I? Oh yes, I went to the internet to see how much longer I had left on this planet only to discover that I don’t have malaria. It was a bit of a shock. I hadn’t even considered the possibility that my situation was not as bleak as all that. My dreams of cashmere were dashed on the sharp and jagged rocks of reality.

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