Genuine Taj

Top Floor of the Taj Mahal Hotel. Quiet. The rustle of the street dies down outside. It's 1:00 AM as the city begins to sizzle to sleep.

I haven't heard a stillness like this since before arriving in India. It reminds me of the silence of the hall of a University during Spring Break combined with the deeps caverns of Carlsbad, New Mexico. The Taj Hotel has this feeling; a combination of a place of business with the majestic atmosphere of a magical kingdom.

Just outside, stands the Gateway of India. A magnificent structure calling out to the bay of the Arabian Sea. As the sun rises across the Western Globe, the intoxicating vigor of Mumbai lays rest for a few short hours. The sidewalks become sleepwalks. The trains settle in their yards.

Through the thick haze of multiculturalism, my wandering mind can at least take some identity in a sea of yearning struggle. There are so many people. Genuine people. Genuine workers. Genuine businessmen. Genuine healers. Genuine liars. Genuine beggars. Genuine friendships. Genuine meaning. Genuine intentions. Genuine hard workers. Genuine Indians.