I'm riding awkwardly through a thicket of experience, still shaky from the flight to Europe. After three years on the move I can't mend my fences so fast. I hover between confidence and a sense of great loss, trying to understand the meaning of what has happened. It seems to me that my trials should have been over after Penang. My first days in Madras should have been the beginning of a final and marvelous chapter in India, full of discovery, significance and spiritual satisfaction. That is how I would have written it, but I have lost the strength to sustain the illusion and reality has
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