Delhi Belly


We spent about four hours last evening trying to book flights for today to the South, five cards were charged, no flights confirmed, the internet scattered and then shut off. Two travel guides assisting (sort of/ asking for dates). The universe was clearly keeping us another evening in Delhi and so I used the day to visit the Jama Masjid*, the largest mosque in India that was calling me to explore.

Two subway rides and a long walk from the station, I arrived at the Mosque, first being demanded money for having a camera and then ushered to wear a robe and to remove my shoes.

I sit on the prayer mats for a bit and am greeted by a group of men who want to take me to Kashimir…another posse of men approach shortly after and yell at the Kashimir men for chatting with me. I suggest that we can all be friends.

And although they don’t seem quite ready I sit in the sunshine a bit and digest it all, praying for equality and light and love.



I am talking to you.

It is time to connect with your hearts, to honor every woman as you do your mother, your cow, and your cup of spicy chai masala.

And please, dear souls, do not spit. It is not kind.


The subway ride is another sea of males, as is the westernized coffee shop with fragrant Darjeeling tea, a shop present in my dreams two nights before.

I am unsure of the date or time, sleeping only about 5 hours last evening , and head back to the hotel for some rest after snacking my way through the streets.

Let’s all pray for no symptoms of “Delhi belly”.


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