Perspective, again.

9am, stuck in traffic that's bad even for India. I'm stressed about just about anything: work that's waiting for me at the office, wedding tasks that I feel I've been slacking on, and to top it off, we haven't moved in the last five minutes. I continue to stare straight ahead of me on the right side of the car.

Something makes me look left. And just like that, I am bolted back to the present. A completely disheveled little girl, around age 7, carries her naked brother, similarly disheveled. They live in a tented community right along the road -- the families of the construction workers who have migrated to Hyderabad to work on the massive building being constructed.

The tents are thin blue tarp; laundry hangs on lines connecting the tents; a police officer nearby kicks at their few possessions. I'm told that this community are a group of "Lambada" - a large tribal group, whose members speak "Lamani".

And that's what India does to you, time and time again. Just when you start to get obsessed about your own internal dramas, something makes you look around and see the reality of the here and now, which puts everything in perspective.