The Rich Vegetarian

An Examined Life

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Daya Ghana

The weather here has been cold and rainy, although today was lovely. Clear and sunny in parts, not very windy, and perfect for my favorite concoction – masala mint chai. Really, I am in love with this formula and it beats any other kind of chai I have tasted so far, even my husband’s ginger flavored one. It is such a treat to feel the steaming hot chai make its way down my throat; it is my high, yet slow and luxurious, point of the day.

A song to go along with the dreamy and romantic rainy weather… I wonder if anyone here in the United States regards rain as romantic. For all of us, born and bred in movie-crazy India, how can rain not be romantic? I have an entire theory built around rain and fantasy. When it rains, the eyes get filled with rainwater, vision is blurred. The rain forms a glassy barrier between the individual and reality, as we know it. Wet hair, wild and shiny, looks lovely. A clean face, all make-up washed out, is fresh and youthful. The air is cool and moist, the ground smells fresh and verdant… how can the mind not spin fancies of its own?

The above just goes on to show that I am such a romantic soul. As dull and prosaic my life seems (battling traffic, cooking and cleaning, laundry, dishes – yawn!), my mind loves to see romance all around. And I am not talking about boy-girl stuff, please.

Digression! Yes, here is the song.

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