Day one in Delhi was both horrible and wonderful. (I'll save the horrible for another time) I hired a driver for 20 bucks, which I later learned was wildly inflated, to babysit me and haul me about. He spoke no english and he kept trying to take me to places the book said was lame. I was forceful and got to go where i wanted, ie the shop he had never heard of because he obviously was not a finely dressed lady.
The aptly named FABINDIA was indeed, dangerously fab! Even though i exerted extreme control, i came out of there with one dress up pantsuit, 2 tunics loose enough to be tasteful by India standards, and one fitted tunic for home. I guess that one should be called the "slutty tunic". cute cute cute!!! Sally said "take pictures, then you won't feel like you have to buy everything". I tried, but i was too overwhelmed because they had skinny mirrors and i looked good in everything!
Actually, everyone looks good in this stuff. We silly calorie counting Yanks should take a clue from these very forgiving shapes. Glamourous pyjamas in gumdrop colors and garden paisley prints with beads and sequins and janglies. Sally, promise i will control myself, but I don't want to. I see it as an act of Tapas, (sanskrit for containment, and a main tenant of the yogic philosophy)to go in there and not buy EVERYTHING like some drunken dancing Goddess! This is what the Tantrics were taking about when they said you must sublimate (ie. make sublime) your desires. My desires to be swathed in jewel toned silks is indeed sublime. See, I'm doing my practice. Om Shanti!
A special thank you to Inger and Shar for making the plane ride and my first day much more bearable. Where my meditation practice may have left me less than peaceful in intense situations, your love has whipped my homeopathic ass into a contented frothe.
