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In a city with over 13 million residents shoved into 500 square miles, there is no wonder that personal space is “very less”. I find this constant flood of people exhausting. Every last square inch of the city is filled with people on foot, in autorickshaws, in bike rickshaws, on wagons, in cars, on bikes, in trucks, on tractors,… A wall of pollution (both diesel and sound) fills in the gaps left over, and like the humidity, it weighs heavy on you long after retreating into private spaces. (Even the food I’ve eaten tastes like the stench of pollution.) According to census data, 24% of this population in Delhi is considered part of the backward classes – i.e. the abysmally poor living in those tiny makeshift huts. Much of their lives happens on the street. Driving in the morning, you can see people brushing their teeth with sticks, bathing in cisterns or buckets, cooking. If I had a dollar for every person I’ve seen using the outdoor latrine, I’d no longer have to work after today.

Doug sent me a picture of his commute this evening. The sunsetting over the traffic in the bay area just seems so calm in comparison to Delhi. No wonder yoga started, here. I find myself constantly trying to seek out calm and quiet, retreat from the sensory overload. In backwoods in the states, you can go outside to be at one with your thoughts; here, one must retreat deep inside.