Strawberries and Hero Hondas

Today I scrubbed my entire self with papaya skins. Beauty of nature.

These past few months, my insides have become a bit of a war zone. I’ve been falling apart. A normal part of life. What I want to do, conflicting with what I should do, conflicting with the reality that is happening, uncertainty, and confusion, all of that good stuff. This is why I decided to come to India in the first place. To fix my insides.

But India is not what I expected it to be. My great adventure or catharsis is not happening how I had in mind.

With all the awful rape stories in the news, my family has put me on lock down. No traveling. No meeting new people in places. No going anywhere in an auto-rickshaw. Only with the driver (boring). Granny tells me overly dramatic stories. I get a daily depressing email from mom saying “Please don’t tell anyone where you live or what you do. Scary and unsafe. Specially nowadays.” and things like that. I too find the news very disturbing but on the other hand, don’t want to hide under a rock forever!! I mean it’s like everyone thinks I’m going to step on land mines.

So stuck in Pune. Bummer. I was complaining to my older brother, Kunal, about how I will never get to actually live the “Indian life”, and he said “Sonia, this IS India. This is what it is. This is how it’s lived”.

And you know what, maybe this is the way I’m meant to taste India.

Grandpa and Granny have all these awesome yoga/healing books that I’ve been getting into. I found this really nice quote in one of them: “You don’t have to believe that fruit is delicious in order to enjoy it. But you have to take a bite first.” Universal Life Energy

A confused strawberry.

I took a class at Bikram’s very own yoga studio in Pune. Ah, i felt right at home. Beautiful studio on the 10th floor of this nice building. The walls were entire windows, so during my 5pm class, I could watch the sun setting. It was funny because none of the teachers were Indian. I was the only one wearing shorts, but it wasn’t awkward. All the Indian students were new to the practice, chubby, and awfully chatty :)…I was expecting to find serious, silent, Indian yogi masters. So I guess Bikram yoga is American? So interesting. Too bad he wasn’t there himself!

Granny and I had an “opening ceremony” for a can of condensed milk, one of our favorite things to eat just with a spoon. The Indian kind is sooo much better. I’m really understanding why I have such a sweet tooth. My family!

Yesterday, I had the awkward and hilarious experience of getting myself into a one-on-one yoga class, taught by this 54 year old lady in an Indian suit, who wasn’t really a yoga teacher (she kept telling me how old she was I think because she couldn’t do many postures). We sat in a little room of a children’s school, face to face doing lion’s breaths at each other. Haha too funny.

I have time for one hour long baths, meditation, and reiki.

I also got to ride on the back of this guy’s scooter!!!!!!! I got in trouble when my family found out I rode with a stranger, but it was really worth it. So exhilarating! Now Grandpa is going to take me to his old friend across the street for some scooter riding time.

I bought a Hindi teaching book today so that I can give myself some homework and get the hang of this language. Grandpa and Granny have been speaking with me in Hindi as much as possible. It’s so funny because they always end up getting into a funny an argument about what words mean and then Grandpa starts singing in Hindi. But it’s already working. I’m learning :).

One of my favorite sayings is “there is good in the struggle”. It’s true.

I got to make some friends, somehow.

Okay, time to go bake some pumpkin bread. Granny got the pumpkin. Asha, Granny’s maid cut and peeled the pumpkin. Grandpa found the manual for the microwave (as we have to bake in that). Grandparents on a mission!

Much love,
More later,
Miss you all,

SONIA

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