A startling realization

And then the impossible happened: I fell in love with India all over again.

To say I wasn't expecting this is a huge understatement. A conversation the day before leaving the US for Delhi:

Tricia: "I'm really excited for India!"

Tyler: "Yea, me too!!"

[30 seconds later]

Tricia: Sigh... "No, I'm not. I just figure I'd say it to convince myself I am."

Tyler: "Yea, me too..."

Even when we touched down at Indira Gandhi international airport, I had a sinking feeling in my heart. I wasn't sure this is where I quite wanted to be, although I was just grateful we were going to live together in the same city. Finally.

So you can understand my surprise when, only one week later, I'm sitting in an auto and realizing, I love it here!!

Maybe it's the uncannily amazing weather that's playing tricks on me. Or my amazing luck with getting the nicest auto drivers. Or my stubborn eczema that we've finally cured this week, so it no longer feels like I'm about to crawl out of my skin. Most probably because we're finally living in the same city.

Whatever it is, it just feels amazing being back; our lives somehow click here.

In a strange way, it feels similar to the high of coming here for the first time. Only looking back, that was more puppy-dog love, where anything was possible and everything was strange and wonderful and different and new.

This time, it's more of a grounded type of love, which incorporates all the frustrations, irritations, and challenges... but despite these (or maybe because of them?), finds beauty and adventure in the mundane.

And that's certainly part of it: everything is an adventure here. Take last night. Tyler comes home at an unbelievably early 6:30pm. We have the whole night to relax and just enjoy each other's company. We have a beer at home and marvel at our scrumptious new packages: we just found a delicious bakery that delivers cakes and loaves to our flat.

Then we head out to Lajpat Nagar to buy a new pillow. This would be just another errand anywhere else. But in India, it's an adventure. The neighborhood has a carnival-like feel to it. There are numerous stalls of "American-style corn", fried aloo, and chaat. The streets are way too small for the number of vehicles on it, and even on our sleek motorcycle, it's hard to weave our way through. There are armed policemen on guard standing on makeshift wooden platforms, looking down below. Bicycle rickshaws abound, and everywhere are small stores for housewares, clothing, and electronics. We emerge not only with a pillow, but with an electric tandoor as well -- having fun negotiating over a few hundred rupees (my Hindi teacher corrects my way-too Americanized accent when I relate the story this morning: "TUN-door").

We head back home, and I only wish we had a picture of what we must have looked like on Tyler's Yamaha bike: he in front, with a giant cardboard box in front of him (our brand new "TUN-door" electric oven); then me riding on the back. Between us is another large cardboard box holding our new (large) pillow. My arms are stretched over this box between his arms, reaching out to hold onto the electric tandoor and make sure it doesn't fall off while Tyler drives.

We laugh the whole way home, while I think to myself: Only in India.

Trade-Offs

We have no running water. Even our one fail-safe bathroom sink faucet (which has now also been used to wash clothes and dishes) is dripped dry. I never realized before coming to India how much I took water for granted in the US: to take a shower, do the dishes, boil a pot of pasta...

On the other hand, we now have internet in our apartment. Fast, reliable internet, which doesn't go on strike during normal business hours like our old one.

I smile at my all-too easy thought experiment. I'll gladly take the internet.

Delhi on 32 Rupees a Day?

It's a small but noticeable change. Ever since we got back to Delhi, everything has gotten a bit more expensive. It's all relative, of course, but it's all around: new menus with new prices; cycle rickshaws in Gurgaon, which have doubled from Rs 35 to Rs 70 to take Tyler from the metro station to work. I used to hoard Rs 10 notes, which were worth more than its actual value (like laundry quarters) for auto rickshaws; now nowhere I go is less than Rs 50.

So the recent New York Times India blog titled: "Delhi on 32 Rupees a Day?" sounded incredulous. After all 32 rupees is about 65 cents... and not enough to even take a cycle rickshaw five minutes in Gurgaon, outside Delhi. Unreal to think that living on this amount of money could be remotely possible as an individual, let along a family.

Link here: "Delhi on 32 Rupees a Day?"

Excerpt below:

"How little do you have to live on to be considered poor in India?

It is a question that has spawned an emotional national debate since India’s Planning Commission last week filed an affidavit with the Supreme Court declaring that any urban resident who spent more the 965 a month, or approximately 32 rupees a day (about 65 U.S. cents) would not be categorized as BPL – or below poverty line.

Prem is one of the thousands of men who drive the yellow and green auto rickshaws that serve as New Delhi’s discount taxi service. He came to the capital 27 years ago, from the neighboring state of Uttar Pradesh, searching for a better life. It has not been an easy search.

“After 27 years of working as an auto driver,” he said, “I have managed to save only Rs 25,000 (about $500). If you see our home, the condition we live in, your appetite will die.”

He lives with his wife and four children live in a one-bedroom tenement in the Delhi neighborhood of Shiv Vihar. He pays about 1,200 rupees per month (about $24) to send three of his children to government schools. His eldest son, 19, earns money working at a small graphic design company, though the father doesn’t understand exactly what the son does.

“He had to drop out of high school because I couldn’t afford to keep him there anymore,” he said.

To meet his expenses, Prem works six days a week, earning between 200 and 250 rupees a day, (or about $4 to $5). No matter how hard he tries, every last penny is spent, he says. “Even if I manage to put together a little something, it gets spent when a family member falls ill.”

Rising prices are chewing away his livelihood. A meal that once cost him 15 rupees now costs 30 rupees. Nothing fancy, he says, just a meal of plain roti, daal and one sabzi (vegetable). To feed and clothe his family, he spends about 5,000 rupees a month (or $100). During the broiling Delhi summer, the family of six shares a single fan.

“How will I ever save enough to pay for my children’s weddings,” he asked. Asked what represented luxury to him, he said a new set of clothes for his children. “I have no margin to provide those,” he said. “They just make do with old clothes bought secondhand.”

He has a government ration card that qualifies him for subsidized grain and kerosene but he says “every time I go to the store, the shopkeeper tells me he’s run out of ration – he probably sells it on the black market.”

He scoffed at the notion that anyone spending more than 32 rupees a day was not poor.

“What can 32 rupees buy you?” he asked. “Just about a one-time meal from a street vendor. But who’s listening to us, anyway?”"

Adventures in Meditation

When thinking about meditation in India, it's easy to think of immersing oneself in an ashram, a la "Eat, Pray, Love". That's basically what I did my first year here, when I did Vipassana meditation outside Hyderabad. It was easily the hardest thing I've ever done in my life: a 10 day silent meditation; waking up at 4am to sit and meditate... still sitting and meditating hours later. It was also one of the best things I've ever done; some call it a lobotomy of the mind. It's amazing all the hidden issues that arise, and how joyous and cleansed you feel after.

I'm eager to do it once more before leaving India this year. But at the same time, I'm excited to start a practice of meditation where I'm not holed up in a cave, in an ashram, or a Vipassana "cell". It's no wonder to me that yoga started in India, or that the Buddha achieved enlightenment here. India is the craziest of crazy places, where even a "relaxing" evening stroll is punctuated by numerous car honks, yells, or other loud noises.

I figure if I can meditate here, in my flat, which is easily twenty times louder than my apartment in NYC, I will achieve deep inner peace. I have my first go at it this morning, using a CD on Buddhist meditation that I got from the Omega Institute in New York.

I close my eyes, focus on my breath... and then hear the vegetable vendor yelling about tomatoes as though his life depended on it. Luckily, its though the voice over my speakers hears what's happening, and talks about one man who meditated living next to a fire station. He would use each siren as a way to check in and see whether he was present. I decide to give it a try.

For me, what was a shift during this meditation was just observing everything happening in my body -- including pain in my shoulders and itching, which is something I've been struggling with a while now. It's amazing what happens when you just observe and "give it space to open up." It just dissolves away.

Looking forward to making this a practice everyday! I may not reach enlightenment, but I'll settle for a happy and healthy body.

In Sickness and in Health

Sick. How is this possible only two days after we arrive? It always feels just wrong to have a bad cold or the flu in 90 degree weather.

Thank goodness for Airborne, which has the best marketing tactic ever. Take at the first sign of a cold. Darn, I took it too late -- that's why it's not working!! We've been inhaling Airborne and drinking grapefruit juice like candy. Just grateful it's Friday and we can relax and get better this weekend.

Of course, I google "cure for a fever". Iloveindia.com/home-remedies/common-fever pops up. Curious, I click on it and learn more than I ever wanted to about Indian home remedies:

• The simplest and the most effective home remedy for common fever is to have a decoction of basil leaves. Take about 12 grams of basil leaves and boil them in half liter water. Intake this once a day to relieve from common fever.
• Saffron also works very well in treating common fever. Put half a tsp of saffron in 30ml of boiling water. After the water has been boiled, prepare tea out of it. Let the person suffering from it have a tsp of this tea after every hour.
• Prepare a tea using half a tsp of fenugreek seeds. It would not only providing a soothing effect but would also dissolves the mucus accumulated in the chest.
• Raisins are also effective in curing a person of common fever. Saturate 25 raisins in ½ cup of water. Once soaked, crush them in the same water. Strain the mixture and add ½ tsp of lime juice to it. Have this tonic two times a day.
• Mix 10 grams each of raisins and fresh ginger. Crush this mixture and immerse it in 200ml of water. After about an hour, boil this decoction until the quantity of the water reduces to 50ml. drink this decoction when warm. It would cure common fever effectively.

Wow, and to think, I was just going to take a Day-Quil!

The many faces of India

In the last few weeks, I've been getting back to the swing of work and re-joining productive society. I've started my new job and am working with a US-based healthcare consulting firm to increase access to healthcare in low- and middle-income countries. It's an amazing opportunity to improve both access and quality of care; there are around 385 million people covered under the insurance schemes of the ten countries we are working with.

As the sole project consultant in Delhi, I've been learning to navigate the city quite well, always on the lookout for reliable internet spots and a good spot for chai. A cafe in Khan Market had essentially become my second home last year, when working remotely in Delhi (it was really nice to receive the waitress's heartfelt hello at my return yesterday: "Back after so long, madam!").

At the suggestion of my landlady, today I've tried somewhere new: sharing space at her son's company's office, ten minutes from my apartment.

Well, ten minutes if you know where it is. Luckily, I have found that auto drivers get such a kick from my broken Hindi that they no longer yell at me for not knowing where the location is/going a different way than they want/[insert item here]. The directions are common to what anyone would tell you in India: "Go to [x landmark]; take the second right (what if you're going from a different direction?); then turn left (where, exactly?); look for a black gate (hmm, they are all black); go to the second floor.

This time, there's an added direction: "Go past the cow shed." I'm wondering what exactly this means, until I see it. Literally, a shed with two of the largest cows I've ever seen and a calf -- the scene looks almost biblical, yet here I am in urban Delhi.

Just inside, the office is sparkly and modern, air-conditioned with the fastest internet I've seen in this city yet. The office is buzzing with software developers (I am the only woman I see). The modernity of it all convinces you that perhaps outside are high-rises.

It's just one snippet of the many faces of India we encounter every day.

Nesting

At some point during our 24 hour trip from LA to London to Delhi, I found myself watching a movie called "Source Code", with Jake Gyllenhaal. In a nutshell, it's a movie about parallel worlds, and the ability to traverse these alternate universes after one's death and "re-live" an alternate life.

Just another silly plane movie, sure, but little did I realize how much this idea of parallel worlds would resonate upon landing in Delhi. We landed at 11am local time yesterday, and just like that, were transported back to our lives four months ago. The same roads, the same apartment... though thankfully not the same heat (it was about 110 degrees when we left in May, and a "cool" 90 degrees now).

I would catch myself looking out the window on Ring Road, and it would feel like nothing had changed and life was perfectly normal living in India. Yet at the same time, picturing so easily what I would be doing if I were in NY. It wasn't culture shock, but more this indescribable surreal feeling that I could be living parallel lives in either city, with both making complete sense.

We arrive back at our apartment. I am grateful as Tyler lugs all four luggages up the three flights of stairs to our flat. Meanwhile, I attend to important matters: trying to turn on the air conditioner. We have just arrived in Delhi and we're already sweating up a storm. Thankfully, it turns on after messing around with a few switches. We high-five and I start to unpack... only to have the power go off, making the room instantly hot again. I have to smile; silly me for thinking everything would go right instantly -- that would be too easy.

Our apartment is just as we left it, and I check on our clothes in the closest. Darn. The monsoon has made everything completely moist and smelling like mold... Oh, but I suppose it's because there is mold on our clothes. Fantastic.

I can't complain too much though, for our landlady makes sure we're completely comfortable. Copious amounts of liquid (cold water, Pepsi, hot chai) gets sent to our room within an hour of arriving, along with tomato and cucumber sandwiches.

Tyler and I make a long list of things our apartment needs... but first thing's first: start up the motorcycle. After Jacques this summer, our motorcycle in Delhi looks... well, incredibly "cute". As it hasn't been ridden in four months, little surprise it won't start. We suppose it's a quick errand to fill it with gas, put air in the flat tire, and jumpstart the battery.

But we should know by now that nothing is ever that quick or easy. We push the bike to the closest gas station and fill it with fuel. Just across the dirt "sidewalk", there are mechanics working on bikes on the side of the street. They've helped us before, and we have faith that it will be a quick task. Half an hour later, the bike still isn't running. The answer, they say, is to get to another repair shop to get a new battery.

So we do the most logical thing: Tyler gets on his bike, while another mechanic gets on his scooter and literally pushes Tyler's bike down the freeway to the shop. Of course, the tires are still a bit flat, so this doesn't necessarily go as smoothly as it could. Only in India!

An hour later, Tyler is back and the bike is good as new. Brand new battery, oil change, general check-up -- all for Rs 2000 (about $50). We run all sorts of errands (groceries! tupperware! pillows!), and have our first Indian meal since we left Delhi in mid-May.

It may sound boring, but after two and a half years of dating long distance, nesting and setting up our house together is nothing short of incredibly romantic.

LifeSpring ABC Video

It's almost exactly nine months since we've launched LifeSpring Foundation. So it seems appropriate that the ABC News video on LifeSpring has been re-born this week, through ABC's revamped saveone.net website.

Watching this video from the US is quite surreal, I must admit. I remember the film shooting incredibly well, and the women who were at our hospital that day last December. Yet the communities that Elizabeth Vargas and Dr. Rama walk through feel incredibly far away as I sit in my comfortable air-conditioned room today.

I suppose that's the true power of media: to bridge worlds and create a sense of togetherness across universal themes like childbirth. It's too bad it's so often wasted on reality shows and local news focused on murders instead.

Link to video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9KKVdPWTUI8

LifeSpring in the News

Yesterday, LifeSpring was featured on the PBS NewsHour. They featured innovations in maternal and infant health, which address chronic problems creatively:

http://www.pbs.org/newshour/rundown/2011/09/five-business-innovations-for-mother-and-child-health.html

Project: LifeSpring, India

Low-income women in India usually have two choices for maternal care and child birth: wait in long lines at overcrowded government facilities or risk breaking the bank by paying for private care. Seeking to provide a middle-ground alternative, LifeSpring developed a chain of hospitals for women who earn about between $3 to $6 a day that provides an all-inclusive maternal care package for about half or one-third what other private facilities might offer.

The facilities cut costs by using a no-frills environment, and by breaking down complex processes into different tasks, some of which can be done by less-skilled professionals.

Reflections

After a three month hiatus, I've now started the packing process for the move back to India later this week. Only this time, home will be Delhi. In many ways, the anticipation feels similar to my initial move to India almost four years ago. So much to do, to see, to experience -- and only having one more year to do it.

I had to smile when I opened my blog to write this entry... my last blurb was about Seth Godin, and it's through Seth Godin that I'm inspired to pick up my blog and resume my musings.

Yesterday was a difficult day. At the 10th anniversary of September 11th, I was absorbed with a sense of intense sadness -- not only in reflecting the horrible events of the day, but in the juxtaposition of the feeling of "one-ness" the day that New Yorkers and the country came together ten years ago... versus the sense of division, politics, and negativity of America today.

I remember all the missing signs -- seeing some of them so much that you almost felt as though you knew the person yourself (I always remember the grandpa dressed in a green jacket in all the missing photos -- he looked like Santa Claus himself!). Or Aurelie calling me up to see whether I was okay; France had provided free calls to New York for an entire day. Or for that matter, stories of Americans calling their same number with a 212 area code. Everywhere you looked -- whether it was New Yorkers cheering fire fighters as they drove down the street, or spontaneous vigils in Union Square - it felt like one family, we were all in this together.

So it saddens me to turn on the TV and sense all the political anger mixed with cultural complacency, within the vortex of the Kardashians or whatever reality television show is the newest thing. And I found myself on the verge of a new low, wondering if I had set the right priorities when I chose a career focused on social impact and global change -- whether that even really mattered.

In that context, it was a welcome note to receive Seth Godin's blog, which Tyler forwarded me today. He writes:

"I remember ten years ago like it was yesterday, looking out the window of my office and wondering if it (all of it) was over. I remember those that suffered and were lost, and those brave enough to risk everything. Not sure we'll ever forget, or if we should.

But now more than ever, I believe we have an obligation to stand up, stand out and to do work that matters. Wherever you are, there's an opportunity to be different, with respect."