I'm filled with India. I can feel this energy in me this joy, this inspiration, this enchantment, this magic, this wonder.

 

The smell of my shirt takes me back there. It the smell of the laundry at the hotel. It takes me back to New Woodlands and my little room. It takes me back to joy, joy, joy, joy in a single bed and a thermos of black assam tea brought to my door. Joy in a bare stone wet room with a dribbling, luke warm shower, joy in scratchy sheets, and feeling at home because there are lots of smiling people bringing me delicious things to eat and doing my laundry! Joy in all the things I am learning about yoga and reading about at night, a new culture opening up to me, a new, fascinating culture opening up, what a feeling. Joy in sitting in my room at lunchtime with my feet up on the little table watching BBC world and eating a sweet biscuit with a cup of black tea. Joy in the exhaustion and fatigue of getting up at 7 doing yoga every day and spending the next 7 hours being lectured to by wonderful, bossy, formidable Indian women joy in the challenge! Joy in the little balcony looking over some trees, in sitting out there in the muggy fug of the air and wondering about all of it, with a black crow sitting on a branch just over there, black against the green leaves and murky white sky.