pretty little feet

Throughout the world people come to India in the neverending search of the meaning of life. Gurus and ashrams are just as common here as sheep in New Zealand, and every traveller with a little bit of pride claims to be performing the steps of the gruelsome Ashtanga-yoga as effortlessly as they're brushing their teeth. Their spiritual achievements are measured with increasing levels of self-purgatory, giving the illusion that this simple lifestyle is the anti-dote to the troubles of life. Naturally, this is all bullshit.

The only thing that India gives you is maldigestion, a thinner wallet and even more questions, especially since the universal answer to just about anything is "why not?".
The ascetic lifestyle flaunted by all these holy men and whatnots, has even crept into the mainstream idea of what us westerners seek, otherwise I cannot find a plausible explanation to why every mattress in every hotel that I've stayed in for the past 2.5 weeks, has been rock solid hard. I could just as well have been staying in the interrogation room for suspected terrorists, India vs comfort 1-0.


So today I decided to take this self-punishment even further, and wear my new, shiny shoes. After only a few hours I'm now therefore hobbling along the ghats, the skin rubbed raw around my toes. And I still don't know the answer to life, but at least my feet are pretty, goddammit!