New Delhi
The Marwari opium seller of Meherangarh Fort
Can’t say these have been the most inspiring of days. (Though there’s been a few moments.) I quasi-tweaked my back in Jaipur—just one of those funny movements where I felt a sheath of muscle in my mid/upper back suddenly tense and contract and serve notice that any more bad moves would likely result in a number of days of supinity.
I’ve managed OK since then, but the other day it kept reminding me it was still here, waiting to go on strike and this encouraging me into a more relaxed pace than is my usual here in the Delhi grind pit. A steady diet of ibuprofen has also been on the menu—and where’s that opium-dishing Marwari guard when I need him? Understandably righteous ideology notwithstanding, there’s a time and place for painkillers, it turns out. I’m not quite there, but I think I’m within sight.
Anyway, it’s all moving in slow motion, and allowing myself liberal time to take rest in my AC room here at the Abracadabra guest house (downstairs room 7, for those keeping score at home) seems to be an integral part of sanity.
On the other hand, the prospect of hitting the streets in search of Green Tara, old statuary and maybe a harmonium, is keeping my head in the game…
Mrs. Sharma supervising the cutting of a vintage Gudri blanket into its new life: a one-of-a-kind party jacket
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