Afternoon of a Sadhu

Afternoon of a Sadhu

Choice

When I was in India, I gave away all my money and most of my possessions and became a beggar for a month and a half. A few Western travelers take this path. India shakes them like dice. Life there smashes Western preconceptions, and once those are gone, anything becomes possible.

I was 22, and I’d been wandering around India and Sri Lanka for almost a year, seeking adventure, enlightenment, and a boyfriend. I was almost ready to give up on all three, weary and in despair.

On a bright January morning, I sat down at the Sunshine Café in Colaba, Bombay’s hotel district, and ordered tea. The man at the next table turned and asked if I had any antibiotics.

He was gaunt and stringy-haired, with skin the horrid parchment yellow of the opiate addict.

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