Eat, pray, love, my ass. I’d picked up Delhi belly in Kochi that had taken me until Mombai to shake. I’d been infested by some water-borne parasite doing sunrise puja at Surat. The handsome Brit I’d met in Ahmedabad had stolen my passport and wallet, and I’d spent eight days waiting at the embassy.
By now, there was nothing left to lose. Even my sandal had given out on the walk from the main road. Every possession I had left fit into one canvas bag that I had slung over a shoulder.
I’d been ‘looking for something’, a thought that made me laugh now. There was nothing to find in this forgotten place—just one more thing to check off a bucket list that no one followed.
I padded to the open-air window and looked out past the river, and squinted at the rising sun.
And realized, finally, what I’d found.
This has been an edition of What Pegman Saw.
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