Karma

I'm at home in Hyd this weekend and really enjoying the downtime. Going back in time a few weeks ago, Bret and I visited Mumbai and were lucky to have a friend from the office, Nachiket, volunteer to show us around his hometown since he happened to be visiting his family at the same time. We spent the day walking around the city learning little known facts from our expert guide.







One of the highlights was visiting this quaint neighborhood in the western part of the city that seemed like more like a rural village than a pocket of the fast and hip Mumbai. We meandered through windy streets down a hill until we came to a rectangular pool of water surrounded by steps that led right up to the front doors of modest homes and a couple of temples.

Only then did Nachiket reveal that his uncle and aunt lived nearby. He gave them a call, and they were quick to invite us over. They ended up living in one of the cute houses that looked right over the pool of water, called the Banganga Tank. It was late afternoon and we had been walking in the sun all day, so all of us had sweat dripping down our faces when we arrived. We left our shoes outside and Nachiket's aunt greeted us with a tray of iced waters.

Bret, Sarah and I shared the same thought simultaneously. Drinking local tap water would be a death wish, but we had to react appropriately to the hospitality of our hosts. Despite being parched, I took a few tiny sips of the water, exaggerating the motion of taking the glass to my lips but never really swallowing much.

Luckily Nachiket's uncle had a son living in the U.S. and could speak enough English well enough to carry on a conversation. Everything was going well until Nachiket's aunt entered again, this time with a tray of glasses filled with ice and a fuscia-colored liquid. Bret, Sarah and I shared another look of dread. At this point, we knew we couldn't keep up our tiny-sip strategy. 'I give in,' I thought. I'm going to drink this, it's going to taste good, it's going to make the situation less awkward, it's going to make Nachiket's aunt happy, and I'm going to be up all night puking. I looked up at Bret and Sarah and it was clear they had made the same decision. We downed the salty, sweet, syrupy drinks in less than a minute. It was super-refreshing, but I couldn't help thinking about how miserable our flight that night would be, each of us taking our turn to run to the bathroom.

After some more chit chat about comparing life and work in India to the U.S., etc. we got a tour of the house by the man of the house. As there were only four rooms, it only took about four minutes. The kitchen was last. As we walked through the cramped cooking area, I spotted a disproportionately large water filtration system. Salvation! I felt a massive wave of relief in realizing that I would not have to hover over the toilet in agony for the next three days. This must have been karma.