tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105097852011-11-28T06:23:02.262+05:30several years ago i spent a few months in india doing tsunami relief work and traveling. i didn't realize i'd been bitten by the india bug until i moved back to my comfortable, yet predictable life in new york. it didn't take long for me to relocate to india full-time to try to make a life. now, after three years in mumbai, i split my time between america's east coast and india's west coast. the difference between life here and life there is that everything in india begs to be written about.indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.comBlogger1591100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-90426038663724093742010-12-09T14:38:00.002+05:302010-12-09T14:41:35.893+05:30

This story originally appeared in Beyond Profit on December 3, 2010. Click here to subscribe. Earlier this week, a report by J.P. Morgan and the Rockefeller Foundation declared impact investment a new asset class—a remarkable development in the lifecycle of this industry. What does it mean for social enterprise? On November 29, J.P. Morgan and the Rockefeller Foundation released a report

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-66682322714265538202010-12-07T09:18:00.001+05:302010-12-07T09:20:18.857+05:30

Here's my latest (December 6, 2010) for the Wall Street Journal.Many social entrepreneurs and social investors tend to avoid inviting the government to their table because it often means a slow, fat-fingered solution, rather than a targeted, nimble infusion of resources. However, government policy can also serve as a growth catalyst and a broad-based enabler, and, as such, cannot be

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-10016162783421723122010-12-07T09:10:00.003+05:302010-12-07T09:22:01.567+05:30

Here's my latest (Nov 26, 2010) for GOOD Magazine.Rumors of the death of microfinance in India have been greatly exaggerated. Here's what's really happening. Until recently, microfinance was the darling of poverty alleviation. A foolproof way to pull people out of $2-a-day poverty. But, now, the microfinance sector in India is in crisis, so much so, The New York Times announced last week that

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-2120209915731503632010-11-18T20:36:00.002+05:302010-11-18T20:38:43.997+05:30

Check out a recent interview I did with Columbia's School of International and Public Affairs in conjunction with their Social Enterprise Bootcamp! Read here!

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-25959525768449873012010-11-18T20:32:00.001+05:302010-11-18T20:35:27.866+05:30

My latest post for Good Magazine.The United States was founded on the idea of idea of individual liberty, individual ownership, and individual needs. Unfortunately, this is a costly way for a country to develop, especially if every citizen aspires to express his freedom and individuality by owning a car or a house or a hammer. Nearly 250 years into the evolution of our ethos of

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-48704771201761219662010-11-18T20:29:00.003+05:302010-11-18T20:36:06.429+05:30

I'm writing a few posts a month for Good Magazine. Here's the first!If you know anything at all about social enterprise, you are probably familiar with the fact that many of the case studies cited as successful are Indian in origin. Case in point: Aravind Eyecare, Jaipur Rugs, Barefoot College, d.Light. It makes you wonder: Is India better at producing social entrepreneurs than other

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-80117869553374333582010-07-07T10:38:00.005+05:302010-07-07T11:09:59.332+05:30

(Left) A future employer?Read below for my latest article for the Wall Street Journal. With more than half a billion people under the age of 25, India is sitting atop a potential powerhouse of intellectual and physical energy. But, India’s demographic dividend is only a ‘potential’ positive unless India’s social entrepreneurs become actors in this transition. A look at the numbers released in

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-60619574627878081992010-06-15T05:00:00.003+05:302010-06-15T05:07:04.487+05:30

My latest piece, published in the Wall Street Journal. Read below for the full text.Ever since the microfinance investment story began in India, investors have been scouting the “next big ‘social’ thing.” One category has been overlooked—affordable wellness. India has cultural assets—yoga and ayurveda—that, if harnessed effectively, could create tremendous value for communities and the

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-90318593574592472322010-05-31T10:27:00.003+05:302010-05-31T10:29:02.853+05:30

Sitting at Café Chattberbox in Zamzama, a hip little part of Karachi, drinking fresh peach juice. At the next table is a group of three men in their 20s or 30s talking about the downfall of Facebook in Pakistan. A guy sporting a goatee and an artfully aged t-shirt says his life has actually improved since the government shut down the social networking site. He’s now in much better touch with

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-60814972703771234432010-05-31T10:08:00.002+05:302010-05-31T10:26:51.241+05:30

Tall Guard at the Border with a fan on his head

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-59527456250949702622010-05-31T08:44:00.004+05:302010-05-31T08:56:46.349+05:30

I crossed into Pakistan today on foot wearing my salwar kameez, looking the part of a conservative foreign woman. An Indian porter, a proud Sikh from Atari, carried my red suitcase on his head, and when we got to the line that indicates that this is no longer India, he handed my bag to a Pakistani porter who gingerly took it and placed it atop his head. Although he interacts with the Pakistani

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-30871522175661641312010-05-31T08:10:00.003+05:302010-05-31T08:42:11.866+05:30

In Pakistan's urban centers, it's not unusual for cars to carry gunmen, for protection. It is not safe to travel in Pakistan. The US State Department has written 2.25 pages, single spaced, saying as much. And, while I am not one to take bombings, terrorists or target killers lightly, I go anyway. Duty calls—I need to make a trip for a research project related to work. But, oh, the paradoxes of

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-10635912227588240142010-05-31T07:54:00.003+05:302010-05-31T08:10:20.896+05:30

There is a man named Anil whose life depends upon the Pakistan Embassy in India. If the Pakistan Embassy gets its act together and builds a website, any website at all, to represent its presence in India, Anil will lose his job. Anil, you see, is a typist. As in, he makes words on a typewriter. And while he doesn’t work for the Pakistani Embassy in New Delhi, he works very close to it. Rain or

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-31838282119771661812010-05-19T10:48:00.000+05:302010-05-19T10:47:14.604+05:30

The forecast in Delhi today is "Widespread Dust." Not sunny with...or cloudy but...or windy and...but just Dust Everywhere. http://xhtml.weather.com/xhtml/cc/INXX0096 High of 110 F. Sent from BlackBerry® on Airtel

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-60699189679693638552010-05-15T23:06:00.002+05:302010-05-15T23:22:50.562+05:30

The Indian mindset often seems hard to shift. Mind set. Mindstuck. We’ve escaped for the weekend to a cantonment in the Himalayas of Himachal Pradesh. Whereas Delhi is over 100 degrees right now, and Mumbai is 90 with 74% humidity, the little village of Kasauli requires a light shawl in the morning, and is sunny and a beautiful 85 in the afternoon. When we checked into our hotel, it was just

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-10363467507685426072010-05-09T22:22:00.002+05:302010-05-09T22:28:34.317+05:30

Ten or fifteen years ago, we talked about how computers would change everything. In the future, you wouldn’t need to go anywhere, you could just pop on your video conferencing tool, or your laptop camera and have a meeting. You could internet chat with friends instead of going out. But, that hasn’t really happened. It’s 2010. The internet has been around for 4 decades, chat functionality has been

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-7320446153149189602010-05-08T10:52:00.005+05:302010-05-09T22:29:08.190+05:30

More ideas from Bellagio...Many of us like to think of country borders as permanent and meaningful. In some cases, these borders are physical, for example, parts of the divide between the US and Mexico. But, in many cases, borders are lines on a map that serve to separate cultures and people that don’t necessarily need to be divided, for example, Punjabi Indians versus Punjabi Pakistanis (same

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-69938720381422463542010-05-08T10:24:00.005+05:302010-05-08T10:51:16.105+05:30

Thirty two people from around the world have gathered in Bellagio to talk about the future. We are part of the Rockefeller Foundation’s “searchlight function,” an effort by the organization to work with teams around the world to uncover new and future developments that will affect the poor. In addition to about 10 sets of researchers, there are an additional 6-7 guests who have been seeded among

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-80851140786308400632010-04-27T01:17:00.003+05:302010-04-27T01:27:06.725+05:30

Lake Como’s stillness has been interrupted by an afternoon shower. A look out the window of my room reveals that the thunder and lightning have made the storm sound more aggressive than the pepper of drops turns out to be. But, where the “storm” is lacking in moisture, it makes up in fog. My view, just moments ago, was of three or four hills converging on the lake. Now, there is just a gray cloud

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-56653657986337881092010-04-26T21:00:00.000+05:302010-04-26T21:02:35.212+05:30

Sent from BlackBerry® on Airtel

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-8176538638697431162010-04-25T14:18:00.004+05:302010-04-25T14:37:49.824+05:30

Is this thing on? It's been awhile. Work has been beastly. For months. But let this be the re-start of a concerted effort to write more often. I'm sitting in an Apart'Hotel in Ferney-Voltaire, France. My friends Lauren and Maz just moved here three weeks ago for Lauren's new job doing something impressive involving vaccines for Africa. When they left DC, they took their 18-month-old son Julian

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-80465253672837662092010-04-25T14:14:00.001+05:302010-04-25T14:17:55.832+05:30

My latest post on Mumbai in the New York Times, originally published April 8, 2010. Organic cotton: a sensible concept. Cotton candy: frivolous, but delicious. But organic cotton candy — these three words are not natural bedfellows. Nonetheless, the adventurous spirit of the Indian sweet tooth knows no bounds. Now, thanks to a new organic farmers’ market in Mumbai (Nilgiri Garden, Bandra Hindu

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-76049176598739460382010-03-16T12:14:00.002+05:302010-03-16T12:30:44.715+05:30

I had a business call with a colleague in Karachi, Pakistan last night. The call lasted 15 minutes. We spoke about organizations that are working on infrastructure issues in urban areas. Simple.This morning I received a text message from my phone company: "You have made a call to ISD CODE 0092 Code.We urge you to exercise caution when calling unknown number and sharing personal details as it can

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-15903977187722845472009-12-27T10:59:00.004+05:302009-12-27T11:17:22.801+05:30

Photo: Michael RubensteinI forgot to post my latest piece for the New York Times! This one is online and it ran in print in the International Herald Tribune a few weeks ago. The slideshow is quite beautiful.Mumbai, India: Divya Thakur, the founder of Design Temple, a product, furniture and graphics firm based in Mumbai, lives in a three-bedroom three-bathroom apartment behind the Taj Mahal

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-31894180444859387772009-12-11T06:11:00.000+05:302009-12-11T06:08:18.752+05:30

On a SpiceJet flight to Chennai. On my right, a man reads a book. On my left: Hare Krishna. Hare krishna hare krishna. Hare ram hare ram. Ram ram ram. Hare Krishna. Hare krishna hare krishna. Hare ram ram ram de de de. Hare Krishna. Hare krishna hare krishna. Ram ram ram de de de. Hare Krishna. Hare krishna hare krishna. Ram ram ram de de de. Hare Krishna. Hare krishna hare krishna. Ram ram ram

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-88790642334889234492009-11-21T13:42:00.004+05:302009-11-21T13:51:32.500+05:30

Much has been written of the Mumbai dabbawallahs—the delivery men who ferry home-cooked meals (carried in a tiffin) from stove to office every day. They have become one of the wonders of this city, and a part of the lore imparted to Harvard Business School students (a world away) in a case study written about their six sigma rating. It used to be that one would only eat home-cooked food made by

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-32822885539456188882009-10-28T08:47:00.004+05:302009-10-28T08:55:21.168+05:30

Excerpted from my blog on Globespotters, The New York Times. For full post, click here. This city’s northern suburbs have found their calling. Lacking great architecture and elaborate temples, Bandra and Khar now moonlight as a treasure chest for the fashion forward. Take the time to nose around these residential neighborhoods’ many boutiques and you’ll leave with one-of-a-kind togs. We’ve mapped

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-57256677101413643942009-10-28T08:43:00.003+05:302009-10-28T08:47:42.133+05:30

Excerpted from my piece in the print edition of The New York Times on October 4, 2009. For full article, click here.AFTER a relatively mild monsoon season in Mumbai, fishermen are back on the seas, trolling for the best the murky waters have to offer.Any true Mumbaiker knows not to eat seafood during monsoon season, from June to September. The choppy, churning waters stir up mud and grime,

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-56170856733939666852009-10-28T08:26:00.004+05:302009-10-28T08:57:25.276+05:30

So, yeah, word to the wise. Don't drink the water. And don't eat the shrimp. When I moved into my apartment three months ago, I was excited to be on the water with a view of the ocean from my bedroom and kitchen. I didn't mind that a few people had taken up residence in make-shift huts on the rocky beach. Now, the slum dwellers have been booted in order for the shrimpmongers to dry their catch

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-88622610707915221472009-10-28T08:16:00.002+05:302009-10-28T08:26:11.284+05:30

When I pulled into the entrance to my building on Sunday night, I was greeted by the building’s security guard,a smooth skinned boy of only 15 or 16. He blandly opened the gate, and then peered in the car, and as he did his expression changed to exuberance and he gave me an flapping, energetic wave. I have been away for five weeks in the US. This was a much better welcome than I would receive

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-76941170397295204332009-10-27T18:05:00.001+05:302009-10-27T18:07:03.768+05:30

One day I will care about the weather. I will watch the radar like I’m command central and tell you when the rain will come. I will know when the trees need water. When the hay is ready for cutting. When the horses should be let out to run. I will know how many days of record highs we’ve had, and that this is the worst it’s ever been since 1925. One day, after it rains, I will check my rain

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-48680453179799106232009-09-12T12:13:00.000+05:302009-09-12T14:29:34.895+05:30

Eating cheddar and pesto sandwich at a cafe in old Bombay. Sent from BlackBerry® on Airtel

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-35768064924575321722009-09-06T12:26:00.000+05:302009-09-06T12:29:29.044+05:30

Malabar Hills on a gray Sunday morning, taken from the window of a black and yellow cab. Sent from BlackBerry® on Airtel

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-81402264553071051312009-09-04T20:22:00.002+05:302009-09-04T20:39:23.164+05:30

The Asiatic Society is housed at Town Hall, one of the sites on Mumbai's City Tour. MUMBAI | Cosmopolitan hubs around the world have added bicycle tours to their roster of ways to experience culture and architecture. Touring cities like Barcelona, Paris and Amsterdam on a bike offers a romantic way to wend through a city’s history. In Mumbai, though, biking can be a bit more complicated.Bike

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-36383863227388479182009-08-27T22:32:00.000+05:302009-08-27T22:34:11.805+05:30

At Blue Frog...Afro jazz...from Cameroon via France. Fantastic. Sent from BlackBerry® on Airtel

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-86394048062582281692009-08-16T20:06:00.003+05:302009-08-16T20:55:26.330+05:30

Image: A sign painting workshop, in preparation for Mumbai's Queer Azaadi March, today. While much of the world celebrated Gay Pride in June, Mumbai waited. The Queer Azaadi March (”azaadi” means freedom), in fact, is this Sunday, a day after the 62nd anniversary of India’s independence. The implicit association: the freedom of sexual orientation and the country’s freedom from the clutch of

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-19476286245795260402009-07-26T20:54:00.003+05:302009-07-26T21:25:17.690+05:30

Now that I have signed away several thousand dollars, the next 8 months of my life, and my first born son, I am officially the renter of a new apartment. My purple left thumb is proof; my fingerprint was required upon the signing of the lease. On Saturday, after searching for a new place for 6 weeks, I signed a lease for a little "bachelorette" pad in Bandra, north of Bombay. It is one of the

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-471083335924589702009-07-26T19:41:00.005+05:302009-07-26T20:25:35.405+05:30

India and her Indians can claim that this is a modern democracy, and that caste no longer matters, but underneath the surface, it is still a backwards, mean place in quiet ways. A woman is already in the elevator, has pushed the button for her floor, and just before the door closes, a young woman of 16 or 17 joins her. They are both Indian, both female. The building security guard, hardly much

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-70617263461471963052009-06-27T10:48:00.003+05:302009-06-27T11:36:47.109+05:30

MUMBAI | Devout Muslims go to Mecca. Jews travel to Jerusalem. Catholics visit the Vatican. Hindus go to… well, there are numerous pilgrimage sites for Hindus, and some are quite harrowing. But for the urban Hindu, there are many shorter, less extreme pilgrimages. Mumbai has several, one of which takes you to a 200-year old temple in the center of town.Each and every Tuesday in the wee hours of

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-70823431368943402422009-06-08T11:42:00.000+05:302009-06-08T11:49:28.952+05:30

Just out of a meeting in Andheri East in Mumbai. It's Monday morning. These guys are either wrapping up their weekend adventure excursion a little late, or they have one of the scarier jobs in Mumbai: window washing. Sent from BlackBerry® on Airtel

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-37261390003118142422009-06-07T20:52:00.004+05:302009-06-07T21:37:22.011+05:30

Almost like a child taking her first steps: today Uma learned how to sit.

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-13060752027571159312009-06-02T01:53:00.001+05:302009-06-02T02:00:19.591+05:30

Navy cadets headed to the bus stop in Navy Nagar, Mumbai.

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-22908430058519869512009-05-10T11:11:00.004+05:302009-05-10T11:57:21.014+05:30

Two weeks ago, I made a visit to Ahmedabad, to interview Ela Bhatt, the founder of SEWA, the Self Employed Women's Association. Ela Ben is a beautiful, gentle woman, now in her 70s, who has empowered over a million women in the past 3 decades, by bringing them together, unionizing them, offering them microcredit, and giving them guidance on how to run their small enterprises. Ela Ben (a form of

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-90649652600726816992009-05-09T13:44:00.000+05:302009-05-09T13:52:27.481+05:30

Inside the Indian Institute of Management-Ahmedabad, India's Harvard. For the smartest of the smart, in India's cut throat education system, IIM-A is where it's at. Weird architecture though. And hot as blazes in Ahmedabad, Gujurat. Sent from BlackBerry® on Airtel

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-47005611583017703262009-05-09T09:58:00.000+05:302009-05-09T10:07:57.254+05:30

My rickshaw had to pull to the side of the road this morning for a procession, from shortest to tallest, of boys wearing red and orange togas. Each of the smallest boys, only 4 or 5 years old, carried a single lily. Behind them was a long line of women in beautiful white Keralan saris. Sent from BlackBerry® on Airtel

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-78005353426721406552009-05-06T15:20:00.004+05:302009-05-10T11:59:31.206+05:30

I have a new blog post on the site ThinkChange India: Last week, over 400 social entrepreneurs, social investors, and socially motivated types converged to talk shop in Bombay (that’s Mumbai for you progressives). The Sankalp Social Enterprise and Investment Forum brought people from across India, and some very committed folks from abroad (who we hope used some sort of carbon off-setting system

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-31846589251517693312009-05-05T08:48:00.005+05:302009-05-05T10:51:26.249+05:30

I returned from yoga this morning in a rickshaw which cost 25 rupees (50 cents). I handed the driver a 50 rupee note, but as usual, he had no change. Early in the morning, rickshaw drivers have a hard time breaking even the smallest bills because they are just starting their shift and are usually empty handed except for a few coins. It's only over the course of the day that they stockpile tens

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-88234853736655718132009-05-02T16:47:00.000+05:302009-05-02T16:53:52.742+05:30

Uma having a fight with a pillow. Sent from BlackBerry® on Airtel

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-70389194267218079512009-04-16T20:04:00.000+05:302009-04-16T20:10:42.910+05:30

Elections in India begin today, and the candidates from each party are campaigning in full force, marching with groups of supporters in the streets. Depending on how financially lubricated the candidate and/or party is, these marches can be basic flag waving affairs, or wild circuses with loud speakers and music, floats and lights. Unlike in America where there is one official day for everyone

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-34192608327092964742009-04-16T19:36:00.000+05:302009-04-16T19:48:15.702+05:30

Elections in India begin today, and the candidates from each party are campaigning in full force, marching with groups of supporters in the streets. Depending on how financially lubricated the candidate and/or party is, these marches can be basic flag waving affairs, or wild circuses with loud speakers and music, floats and lights. Unlike in America where there is one official day for everyone

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-80715313510876145062009-04-15T23:09:00.005+05:302009-04-15T23:45:48.889+05:30

The dog, Uma, has introduced me to a whole new set of friends on my little lane in Khar (Mumbai). In the house to the right is a little boy, about 3 years old, with curly brown hair who screams DOGGIEEEEEE every time we walk outside. Down the way are some girls who love petting Uma on their way to school. And across the lane, just caddycorner to me, is a saintly man--literally, he is a

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-75117933081158565802009-04-10T00:04:00.002+05:302009-04-10T00:08:11.421+05:30

But I came home last Saturday with a dog.

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-59826956067794064372009-04-09T23:18:00.005+05:302009-04-10T00:03:27.397+05:30

Here in the West Village of Mumbai (the New York Times' words, not mine), there's always someone chanting something. I live next to a temple (as many people do in India--they certainly abound), and am used to hearing ululations coming from next door. So, it took me a minute to notice the tinkling of bells and lilting voices tonight. When I finally went to the window, it turned out there was a

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-41982723761382762572009-03-24T03:46:00.000+05:302009-03-24T03:51:12.136+05:30

Mussels in cream and white wine with chips at...Fig and Olive. Sent from BlackBerry® on Airtel

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-44334666601157861232009-03-22T22:34:00.001+05:302009-03-24T04:02:40.390+05:30

Enjoying 5 cheeses at La Fromagerie in London.Sent from BlackBerry® on Airtel

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-43384359956305488992009-02-22T14:13:00.002+05:302009-02-22T14:16:36.172+05:30

Silhouettes in South Mumbai.

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-38879490251915903902009-02-22T14:10:00.001+05:302009-02-22T14:13:48.111+05:30

Bubble blower at the Kala Ghoda festival in Mumbai.

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-79092491917559426152009-02-22T13:19:00.000+05:302009-02-22T13:23:20.491+05:30

Sent from BlackBerry® on Airtel

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-36707339041002768682009-02-22T12:46:00.005+05:302009-02-22T13:35:22.602+05:30

Girls sort through plastic caps in Holambi, a slum outside of Delhi, as a way to make a few extra rupees. Here's my article on Slumdog, which was published in the Austin American Statesman, today, February 22, Oscar Sunday. If India is the center of the world, I am at the center of the center. I'm feeling my way through the gray narrow corridors of Asia's largest slum, Dharavi, in Mumbai. I'm

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-71797258917440533802009-02-18T23:41:00.002+05:302009-02-22T14:09:16.961+05:30

Went to a jazz concert tonight courtesy of the US Department of State--hence, it was free! Herbie Hancock played along with several other jazz artists...which I'm sure you'd know if you know anything about jazz. The highlight of everyone's evening though was Chaka Khan in some scary transparent black pants, which exposed the thigh area in ways that made everyone feel awkward, and an even scarier

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-76938650577396360812009-02-17T09:32:00.001+05:302009-02-22T20:52:34.380+05:30

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-3390586605171486742009-02-17T09:26:00.002+05:302009-02-17T09:30:49.700+05:30

Guards talking strategy outside the Taj Mahal, Agra

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-55282080244803295072009-02-17T07:54:00.006+05:302009-02-22T14:10:05.565+05:30

Image: Thinking Man at the Taj MahalJust when I thought I was becoming numb to India’s “unique sensibilities” my family arrived to remind me that I live in the my own version of the Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind, an upside-down, inside-out neosurrealist place where nothing ever happens in the order it should. Every time you think that, by golly, this city has its

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-59919079163629611442009-02-02T21:07:00.000+05:302009-02-02T21:05:42.709+05:30

My family is visiting me in India for the first time since I moved a year ago. I have been begging them to come since before I even landed on the subcontinent. They have been reluctant, recalcitrant even, to leave their rooted lives. My guess is that they have had images of Mother Theresa's India in their heads since the 80s. All I can say is thank God for Jeremy Piven, who has helped to upgrade

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-40149863521385606342009-01-22T13:54:00.006+05:302009-02-22T13:55:07.947+05:30

I write to you from almost midway through the Mumbai marathon, panting amidst a sea of Indians on a road to nowhere. It is 8:15 AM, the sun is illuminating the bumpy road, and I am on my 9th or 10th kilometer when I hear a helicopter cutting through the air. I look up in between breaths and it seems to be coming straight at me. The cameras are on me, and I'm thinking I'm going to be on Indian

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-64647344642498142009-01-22T11:25:00.005+05:302009-01-22T11:40:15.183+05:30

For the past three weeks, I’ve been having a dull, heavy feeling in my forehead. It starts from the moment my blue eyes flick open, and it continues on and off over the course of the day. This heaviness is occasionally accompanied by dizziness. I end up at my desk at 4 PM with my hand on my forehead, trying to rub it out. I have an explanation. Fluorescent lighting. Those white tube

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-53804881469998620982009-01-20T12:54:00.007+05:302009-01-20T14:38:55.128+05:30

I went to the National Gallery of Modern Art (NGMA) last week to see their painting exhibit. At museums and monuments throughout India, fees are levied based on whether you are an Indian or a foreigner. The foreigner price is usually at least 5 times that of the Indian price. I wouldn't mind if I was truly a tourist--I think that those from developed countries can usually afford to pay more than

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-50921362415258095152008-12-30T20:56:00.000+05:302008-12-30T20:58:23.014+05:30

Last night I lay awake in bed flat on my back with all of India on my left and the waves of the Arabian sea just a few blocks away on my right. I shut my eyes and prayed that sleep would come curl up on me like an old dog, finding her spot. I wrote this instead. Sent from BlackBerry® on Airtel

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-75189199578255764422008-12-14T02:42:00.000+05:302008-12-14T02:47:53.565+05:30

Sent from BlackBerry® on Airtel

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-49615834418122386212008-12-07T17:53:00.009+05:302008-12-08T11:14:17.308+05:30

A few weeks ago, I stumbled into Cafe Paradise, an establishment that has seen better days. I had spent a sweltering afternoon looking for old bronze bowls in seedy, old Chor Bazaar, also known as "Thieves Bazaar"--watch your bag. The general cafe seating area on the ground floor was filled with rickety tables and lots and lots of men, so I headed up the stairs in the direction of the sign

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-24659641865892316072008-12-07T17:35:00.003+05:302008-12-07T17:53:13.294+05:30

My hometown newspaper, the Austin American Statesman, published an oped of mine in the Sunday paper today. You can read it here, if you're interested: http://www.statesman.com/insight/content/editorial/stories/insight/12/07/1207mumbai.htmlBy the way, the image above was taken in September, when a group of us were returning to Mumbai from Devbagh, the "Hamptons of Bombay." The longer building

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-3350295249847776982008-11-30T20:33:00.001+05:302008-12-07T19:54:22.115+05:30

Sent from BlackBerry® on Airtel

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-57741631453717781102008-11-27T18:42:00.000+05:302008-11-27T19:20:36.460+05:30

The MINT newspaper (the Wall Street Journal's partner in India) has published several perspective pieces from their staff writers and freelance writers. They have included an opinion piece I wrote about the attacks. You can find the online version here: http://www.livemint.com/2008/11/27172532/Mumbaikars-react-Lindsay-Clin.html

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-21735908884673740462008-11-27T09:51:00.000+05:302008-11-27T10:29:05.491+05:30

Major landmarks in Mumbai were besieged by terrorists last night between 9 and 10 PM. Gun shots and grenade blasts continued throughout the night killing over 100 and wounding nearly 250. Fortunately, my friends and I are holed up in a different part of town, away from most of the attack sites, of which there are at least 10. Judging from the sites they've hit, the attackers are targeting

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-70365043905141269272008-11-27T09:45:00.001+05:302008-12-07T19:56:33.274+05:30

There’s something utterly romantic about mosquito nets. There shouldn’t be; they are scratchy, make for ineffective curtains, and were created to protect us from one of the more annoying creatures around, the malarial skeeter (the Texan term for the more commonly known mosquito, presumably from the Spanish (rhymes with burrito, no?). And, yet, they add charm and elegance to the Kenya Comfort

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-4880777869292133172008-11-18T01:06:00.000+05:302008-11-18T01:14:16.728+05:30

While reading the New York Times Travel supplement yesterday--the thick glossy magazine that adds a pound to the already bloated Sunday paper--I came across a small blurb that reminded me of "home," meaning the place I will head towards today, not the places I've been visiting the past two weeks. "Indian Vogue" it read. I stopped to skim over the paragraph. Seven splashy new shops have opened in

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-6024970331042307502008-11-07T09:56:00.000+05:302008-11-07T10:45:02.010+05:30

Nothing like a high school football game to get you back in the groove of Texas life and times. Last weekend was my ten year high school reunion, which not so conveniently coincided with my trip home, so I had no excuse but to go.My friends in New York sometimes compare my younger days to the TV show Friday Night Lights. I haven't seen it, but I probably don't need to--any show about high

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-82040347178483513912008-10-30T22:33:00.000+05:302008-11-07T09:56:19.747+05:30

Arrived back in New York last night--my first trip home since I moved to India last December. I spoke to my mom and she sounded positively giddy to learn that I was back on American soil. I have to admit, I felt happy to be back after I went through immigration and the terse officer who stamped my passport allowed herself to say, "Welcome back!" The ride from Newark (for an OBSCENE price) to

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-6857980222773557832008-10-17T08:04:00.000+05:302008-10-17T08:50:33.110+05:30

My apartment in Mumbai looks straight into the apartment across the lane. My bedroom is reciprocal to their kitchen and living room, and because of that, I have an amazingly clear conception of the maid's life in my neighbor's house. The maid seems to live in the kitchen, where she cooks, obviously, and where she spends her "alone" time, does her personal grooming, washes her clothes, thinks

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-77989422804060542972008-10-16T11:12:00.000+05:302008-10-16T12:55:54.222+05:30

Writing from the fast train from Malad to Churchgate. Before I climbed on, I walked up to a little newsstand at the station to get something to read on the way downtown. There are at least two newsstands at every station offering magazines and newspapers in multiple languages--Hindi, Marathi and English.Tonight, I tucked my head underneath the magazines hanging from the front of the stand to

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-91883817121366918162008-10-13T00:17:00.000+05:302008-10-13T00:38:45.260+05:30

I live in the Brooklyn of Bombay. And work in the Bronx of Bombay. And last weekend, I had the chance to go to the Hamptons of Bombay: a peninsula that hangs off the side of Bombay called Alibagh. Truth be told I didn't see much of Alibagh, because we stayed at our friend's house almost the entire time. But, just 25 minutes away by speed boat or 45 minutes by ferry, it is quite an amazing

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-44716258236508398752008-10-13T00:03:00.000+05:302008-10-13T00:16:17.027+05:30

A girlfriend got married in Spetses, Greece at the start of last month, and I realized I've written nothing about it. Thought I'd share a few pictures, and say a little prayer of thanks to the women I know that marry Greek men, giving us all an opportunity to celebrate their love...on a Greek island.

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-69568635488301612632008-10-12T23:54:00.001+05:302008-10-13T00:02:37.746+05:30

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-36429344637142503902008-10-12T23:48:00.000+05:302008-10-12T23:54:31.936+05:30

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-44896947584420554002008-10-12T23:35:00.000+05:302008-10-12T23:47:43.424+05:30

Day 6 of India Couture Week. A dramatic change from the normal sites and sounds of Bombay.

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-2835672833279848932008-10-12T23:05:00.001+05:302008-10-12T23:35:07.106+05:30

India Couture Week, Bombay's version of New York Fashion Week, was two weeks ago. A friend who is a radio DJ received free tickets, and was nice enough to donate them to her needy friends. So, two of us went to see Rohit Bal's designs walk down the runway. Bal, an freckly Indian gentleman, who seems to have a desire to bring back gold lamay and jodhpur pants (in black satin), presented his

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-5350855180412907772008-10-10T00:22:00.000+05:302008-10-10T00:23:31.466+05:30

At this concert...Afro Jazz with a trumpet player from Brooklyn and a bassist from NYU. Check him out on YouTube. Sent from BlackBerry® on Airtel

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-62536412204427612692008-09-18T16:24:00.000+05:302008-09-18T16:33:37.784+05:30

India is a circus. I live in India. Therefore, I live in a circus. Sent from BlackBerry® on Airtel

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-55819738137175361622008-08-03T22:30:00.000+05:302008-08-04T07:13:23.376+05:30

Living in India has made me hyper-aware of issues I didn't think about all that much before, namely 1. Consumption. 2. Sanitation. 3. Water. In Bombay, a city with so many millions, and India, a country of one billion, it is overwhelming to try to conceptualize the amount of trash and human waste produced. It's no wonder many foreigners who visit India think it's dirty. Without working

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-56138128226050964152008-08-03T22:03:00.000+05:302008-08-03T22:25:39.374+05:30

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-89916246611830083002008-08-03T21:19:00.000+05:302008-08-03T22:02:46.155+05:30

The Green School (www.greenschool.org) in Bali is remarkable--a sustainable, environmentally friendly international school set amidst coconut palms on either side of the rocky Ayung River. All of the buildings on-site are constructed out of bamboo, and the classrooms, or learning villages, are open air. I gave myself a whirlwind tour of the grounds on my way to the airport before leaving Bali

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-65172584713428679792008-08-03T21:06:00.000+05:302008-08-03T21:18:29.998+05:30

Kecak dancing is a Balinese tradition that brings together groups of a hundred villagers each Sunday and Thursday night (and on holidays) for a reenactment of the Sanskrit epic, the Ramayana. One hundred men sit in a circle chanting--functioning as the background music and the stage--as other male and female characters dance in and around the circle playing out the story. The chanting is nearly

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-58872903348365299372008-08-03T21:03:00.000+05:302008-08-03T21:06:04.667+05:30

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-46271773172067924232008-08-03T14:42:00.005+05:302008-08-03T21:03:29.103+05:30

After three days in a convention center in Nusa Dua, Bali, I was ready for a break. The conference--the 2008 Asia Pacific Microcredit Summit--was great, as these things go, and I mentally praised the organizers at the end of each day for having the foresight to transfer the conference location from Pakistan to Indonesia. Not that I got to see much of Bali during the conference. But on the

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-68018436114165379922008-08-03T13:26:00.000+05:302008-08-03T14:41:21.575+05:30

I stopped in Singapore last week on my way to Bali for a microcredit summit. I was blessed with an eight hour layover--the perfect opportunity to see a city I wouldn't otherwise treat as a destination. Friends told me to stay in the airport--"the shopping is incredible." But, I've found that shopping is less incredible when you make an emerging market salary in a developed country shopping

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-64467904970979860442008-08-03T13:19:00.000+05:302008-08-03T13:25:31.305+05:30

One of the first questions people ask when I meet them here is “How do you like Bombay?” It’s a complicated one to answer because on any given day I could love it and be reveling in the unexpected nature of just walking down my street: horse parked by a tree, lazy cow munching on green grass, my wiry, bearded shirtless, sarong-clad neighbor sweeping his stoop, freshly minted kittens meewwing

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-11654792268254524652008-08-03T13:07:00.001+05:302008-08-03T13:18:51.038+05:30

India is, how to say, um, unpredictable. A small bag of clothes was returned to me yesterday; I’d sent them out for ironing. Upon receiving them, I was told, “There is one small problem Madam. With one dress. Only one dress.”Pregnant pause. “With one dress, there is problem inside. But other are fine. But, one small, small rat,” he began, demonstrating with his thumb and pointer finger, “

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-1008435504776975762008-07-18T08:57:00.000+05:302008-07-20T23:02:09.543+05:30

Just returned from my first real vacation from India—a week of solitude in lush Mauritius. Although I’ve only ever really heard about the country in the context of exotic honeymoon locales, it turned out to be perfectly suited to those of us mortals who are not yet qualified to go on a honeymoon (much to my mother’s dismay). Mauritius is an island country, east of Madagascar (a much, much

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-22720257807104335062008-06-04T08:11:00.000+05:302008-06-24T14:17:20.109+05:30

The ‘soon has sprung. The gods smiled on Bombay yesterday and showered the city with wet, cool drops that refused to slide into drains. Kids in knickers, topless and smiling, danced and played as the rain came down—their little bodies wriggling and slippery. A tubby man in a tank stood under an overpass and let the runoff from above crash onto his head. Men stood in ankle deep pools by the

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10509785.post-53854067364020182612008-06-02T09:45:00.000+05:302008-06-02T10:19:29.571+05:30

The streets of Holambi are alive with vigor and flies as dusk, and dust, settles on this urban slum. On “main street,” vegetable sellers are peddling cauliflower and purple onions, small hills of garlic and green chilies. Chickens sit in cages next to their sellers soon to be chopped into piles of head, feet, hearts and bones. As the sun sets, the village gains energy. Workers are returning from

indiarevisitednoreply@blogger.com0