After visiting Delhi's famed Red Fort I crossed the Yamuna river and wandered through narrow streets of a working neighborhood. A choking cloud of motorcycle exhaust overwhelmed my lungs. The workers of the small machine shops ignored my presence and the sun beat through my clothing to broil my skin. There was no refuge until I found myself standing before the Jain Bird Hospital I had read about the ancient religion's reverence of life and escaped the broiling sun,surprised how the chaos of India's capitol city had been vanquished by the hospital's inner calm. Thousands of birds were recovering from their injuries under the care of Jains, who respect for all things living to achieve the eternal circle birth life, life, death and reincarnation. I swiftly realized that I had added yet another holy site which might aid my young brother Michael's soul through eternity.
Back outside I caught a rickshaw to Connaught Circle, buying a Herald-Tribune before entering the calm of the Cellar. I ordered a Kingfisher beer and read the newspaper's reporting of the presidential election. The Democrats had beaten the GOP offering of Bob Dole, a good man, but deemed too stingy by the American public. Governor Bill Clinton had been reward for helping the CIA transport cocaine from Central America to Arkansas, but no one in America had sought prison for Colonel Oliver North. He was considered a hero, as was Bob Dole, but heroes weren't getting elected in 1996, because the message was simple.
It's the economy.
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