A dog sleeps, sprawled across the concrete steps leading up to the glass doors. Pushing open the doors brings me out of the 95 degree heat and into the air conditioned refuge of Coffee Day, the Indian equivalent to Starbucks. The doors swing shut behind me and the incessant cacophony of horns is replaced by the beat of Hindi music played at top volume. They’ve changed things since I was here last, the same “Coffee Day Newsletter” makes me laugh with it’s Bollywood interviews and enthusiastic reviews of “funky beats” music but the chairs have been replaced with deep couches. I sink into one and prepare to work.
Working from India has proved to be far more challenging than I ever imagined and I’ve sworn a million times never to do it again but today is one of those days – work is getting done. I duck my head and get lost in the details, forgetting where I am until I take a break and lift my eyes to women dressed in gorgeous, bright saris and red dirt roads busy with bikes, rickshaws, cars, cows, dogs, goats, and people. The scene is quite literally a feast for the eyes and food for the soul and I smile, nodding my head in time to the beat of the music, and think that I could do this for a very, very long time.
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