I have long suspected it, but now I am sure. Until yesterday India had stuck to conventional tactics; the careening taxis, the Katyusha rockets of our undeclared war. But today India went nuclear….or should I say, biological.
Just about every developing country has its own nickname for food-borne illness; Montezuma’s Revenge, Bali Belly, and for India, Delhi Belly. I woke up this morning in severe distress. At first I thought it was a hangover. Like Washington at the Battle of Trenton, India had chosen to attack when my guard was down. I had gone out to dinner and drinks the night before with my Indian friends; Nikita, Saurab, Rahul and Shykar. Who would have thought that Indians liked Tequila shots? Crazy! Anyway, we had gone to an upscale bar that served food from the restaurant next door. I shared a non-veg appetizer spread of different meats and chicken dishes with Nikita and Shykar. It was tasty going down, but it turned out to be my undoing.
I lay in bed most of the day contemplating which of my bumbling housekeepers would find my body, before finally turning the corner around 4pm. I’ll live to fight another day, but it was a close one, certainly an experience that I am not eager to repeat.
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