When the author was in her twenties, she backpacked around India, and a fortune teller told her she would be back. She didn’t think so. It was too dirty, too noisy, too many people, just too much. And then, a bunch of years later, she gets hooked up with a guy she loves; he gets posted to New Delhi; she goes with him. Just like the fortune teller predicted.
She gets really sick in New Delhi, and embarks on a journey, physically and spiritually, to find her inner peace. She meets up with folks in ashrams, discos, spiritual retreats, and all kinds of unlikely places. She encounters Hinduism, Islam and Jainism, Sufis, Sikhs, Parsis and Christians and a kaleidoscope of yogis, swamis and Bollywood stars. What a trip.
She is a humorous lady, and a lot of her account is laugh-out-loud funny, some of it makes you shake your head and roll your eyes, and all of it is interesting. And all of it makes me strengthen my resolve to never go to India. Yeah, I am that skeeved by dirt and filthy toilets. And spooky yogis.
A good read. Excellent for a wanna-be traveler like me who has no intention of leaving my armchair.