MY CUP RUNNETH OVER

Sorry for my silence.

It's been a month since I left the sunny shores of India for the distant shores of another. Australia. Home? I still call it that.

It's 3am and yet again I'm wide awake at an ungodly hour. It's not jet lag. It's just mayhem inside my head right now. I'm like a battery that has been fully charged and keeps turning itself on ready to go, go, go.

Since my return, so much has happened. I am amazed that my old friends can even remember me, I've been away so long, but some loyal friends (too many to mention but it's just heaven getting to know everyone again as adults and to meet their children and husbands - my heavenly godchild Mila must get a special mention) and my divine family have helped me to feel welcome and missed. It's a wonderful thing, being loved. And those friendships that go back 20 and even some 30 years, are golden. Truly.

There have been a lot of dramas. My gorgeous brother broke up with his lady on my first night back. My lovely cousin has had neurosurgery and can't walk further than 10 steps yet, which makes it hard for her 1 year old daughter not to mention her husband, mother..... A great friend from London has found out that her mother is terminally ill and is battling to get back to her side. That is every Aussie's nightmare who lives half a world away. My tenants have had similar news and have had to return to New Zealand. One of my father's school friends keeled over at 70 on the golf course and died of a stroke.......I could go on and on. It's real life. Adult life.

What I realise now, more than ever, is how important family is. And in that department, anyone who knows me, my little bro and my parents (not to mention my uncles, aunts and cousins) would agree that I am more than blessed.

I have only been back to Oz 3 times in the last decade. I have been living away from the nucleus of my family (though they have visited me as often as they could) for 12 years. 12 years! How did that happen? It is undeniable that time marches on with a vengeance.

I arrived in Mumbai under a cloud of terrorist fire and smoke. To Victoria, I arrived amidst a deluge of bush fires and a state emergency of a different kind. This country is vast and vicious when it wants to be. Life here is not as simple as one might think. This island is tough and rough and heaven all at once.

While floods devastated Queensland, bushfires raged in Victoria. How nuts is that? As most people would know by now, there were 5 or so days where the temperature soared over 40 degrees celsius (way over 100 degrees fahrenheit) and even reached 45 on the last day. The winds picked up something awful and unthinkable though it is, people dropped cigarette butts, arsonists did the sickest thing you can imagine and nature did even worse. The combination was explosive. Whole towns were completely razed. The radiant heat could kill you long before the fire reached your house. Whole families were burnt to cinders. The fire was unpredictable and unstoppable. It just jumped the Hume Highway like it was a dirt track. That's like jumping the M3. Seriously.

So, I returned to a country where the oldest form of terror was reigning. Pure survival. I witnessed it bring out the very best in everyone. I was so proud to be home. So proud of my Aussie roots, despite my somewhat Pommi-fied accent. Thankfully, my kin were safe but like when the Twin Towers went down, everyone knows someone effected. The stories that have emerged are often hideous and often inspiring.

Last time I tried to live in Oz, it was 9 years ago. I felt suffocated in Melbourne and went up to Sydney to give it a try. Now don't get me wrong, I love Sydney. I'm not one of those Melbournians who turns up their noses at that brash, beautiful city. But I was disgusted when the Cronulla riots broke out between the Aussie surfer dudes and the Lebanese boys. It was the worst side of Australia. Racism is the ugliest of sins. Unfortunately pig ignorance is not confined to the rednecks of America. I got on the plane back to London with a huge sigh of relief.

This time I'm doing my utmost to not offend my loved ones again. Or my country. And Aussies are extremely proud of their country. Don't you just love being here? Too bloody right you should be. Isn't it just the best? What you been doing over in Pommie land so long? What's with your accent? Who the hell do you think you are?

'Faaark you babe.'

That's the exact text I woke up to, shortly after my return. It made me laugh so hard. My family's Aussie rules team (the Mighty Maggies a.k.a. Collingwood) had beaten one of our old rivals (Essendon). Then we were creamed, seriously beaten to a pulp in the pre-season final. When one of my mates texted me that the Pies were shit. I retorted, what does that make the Bombers if we beat you last week? The above was his response.

Ahhhh Aussie rules footie. What fun it is to watch again, though I'm a bit rusty on all the rules and tactics, it is a joy. Even when being beaten by Geelong. I dragged a London visitor straight off the aeroplane to the new Etihad Stadium and into the throng of mega thousands of Aussies (mostly male, many bogans, mostly divine!). Although she'd never seen a match before, she had a ball. Ha!

It's great having Johanna here, as there are still so many parts of Melbs that I haven't revisited. She adored the coast, where my parents are based. Having her here, almost feels like I'm still on holiday. Though our days are packed and I've got a lot of responsibilities to fulfil, she is such a good friend that it's working out well. Johanna is someone I met through the film industry in London and I'm honoured that our friendship has become so much more.

The film industry here is scared, but forging on (like most industries right now I guess). The recession has really hit, as the bushfires have finally gone out and the rains have come. Everyone is now back to reality. And the reality is harsh. Half of Toorak, our poshest suburb - Chelsea equivalent - is owned by the banks. I know many people out of work and terrified about their future.

There has been SO much money in Melbourne, (everywhere I turn there's a Rolls Royce it seems), there are a lot of young people who just thought that life was always a bed of roses. They don't have survival skills. It's really scary. But also challenging and fascinating and terrifying.

I am resolute to move forward with my new company Legacy and it's taking shape. I want to help families record their history - on film, on tape or on line. It's getting such a positive response and I have my first client. He is a very old friend who is making his way into films and we're in talks about some other projects too. Plus I have other irons in other fires and it seems that I'm committing myself to stay. Shhhh.

Everyone's first question is always - How long are you here for? And my response has been, I'm just seeing how it fits, no promises for now. I don't want to disappoint or offend anyone again and I need to be where the work is. My round the world ticket takes me to LA - NYC - London but it's valid until November.

Thank god my beloved brother has taken me under his wing and given me his spare room. I feel like the little sister! Thank god my parents are the kindest people on earth - so supportive and generous. I feel incredibly lucky to have some time to work things out. So many people don't have that breathing space. I worked like crazy up until the last minute I departed London.

Having proper time out in India was true bliss. I haven't felt that sort of freedom in forever. I let go of technology, guilt, baggage, worry, night terrors, fear and so much more. It's indescribable the difference I feel within myself. Life is too short to carry all that shit around.

Back here, I'm doing my utmost to channel the freedom and resolve that I used to recharge my weary soul. I want my life to be worthwhile. Australia is an incredible country. It's not perfect. But neither am I.

Lx

THIS IS MY LAST GOODBYE

It's taken me a while to catch my breath. Sorry for the silence but I needed to let my last week in India wash over me. It is intoxicating and irresistible to me, though I know some might disagree I truly feel that this is the most inspiring and rewarding country on earth.

I arrived back in Bombay feeling slightly smug that I'd made it around India without catching what most travellers succumb to. You've heard the horror stories I'm sure. I had a gorgeous welcome back girlie eve with Emma, (Cam is still working like a dog, but has made leaps and bounds with his missions here and is rightfully proud, as am I), and laid down on my bed aching for sleep. A few short hours later I was awoken by a volcano in my belly and spent the whole night trying not to pass out on the floor of the bathroom. You get my drift.

When I wobbled out of my room at 7am, white as a sheet, Cam laughed and said, "Your trip wouldn't have been complete without getting properly sick!" True perhaps, but not ideal with Tomer making his way to Bombay to meet me that afternoon and a nice hotel all booked. Hmmmm.

Hallelujah for the Ayurvedic medicine that a kind friend recommended. For anyone who travels in India, leave your western medicine behind and go straight to an Ayurvedic doctor. I had recovered (mostly) by the time Tomer and I met up. And we've just had a gorgeous end to both our trips to India. I'm writing this from an internet cafe in Churchgate and I have about 6 hours left of my time in India.

Varanasi (Benares) has had a HUGE affect on me. Perhaps it's because I saved it for the last stretch of my trip, or because by the time I arrived I'd heard so many amazing stories and had already given myself over to the rhythmn of India. But nothing can prepare you for this ancient, mystical, dark city.

So many times during my time there (too short) me, and the travellers I met, tried to put into words how we were feeling about Varanasi. Without fail, the conversation would trail off into a sort of stunned, shared silence. The best way I can describe it (physically) is like Jerusalem crossed with Venice. It truly feels like time stands still there, like it has for centuries. It is known as Kashi, the city of light, with good reason.

It is a brutal place. Death does a constant dance right in front of you. In your face. There are bodies burning, right on the banks of the river. But the beauty and the sacred depth of the place do outweigh the filth, the decay and the seething underbelly. The people I met there were incredible. The emotions I felt there were deep. It cut through me and then sewed me back up again.

Despite moving abodes twice when I last wrote to you, I decided to move one more time back to the previously full guest house that had been recommended to me by Nichole. When I returned to check it out, Ashish insisted I move in. He gave me a room for 180 rupees (two pounds fifty) that overlooked the Ganga. Though small and extremely basic, it was a true haven.

Bizarrely, when I went to visit him for tea, Tomer called and said I must go and stay at Kedar Ghat. When I told him that I was sitting at Shiva International Lodge in Kedar, he replied that his guest house was the one directly on top of it. That clinched it. I returned to Vishnu, packed by bag for the gazillioneth time and made my way along the Ganga dodging touts and the detritus that will catch you unawares, if you don't look down.

At Shiva, I met a gaggle of Frenchies, Israelis, Brits, Brazillians, Russians and a Greek guy. Most speak at least 3 languages and play at least 3 instruments. Humbling to say the least. We had some heavenly music sessions. Just outside the guest house door was the best bead maker in Varanasi, Bandu, and a chai stand run by Ravi.

I had a glorious few days exploring the town, in particular the day that I met my new friend, a talented fashion designer called Nichola who is from Canada and lives in Italia. He introduced me to his wonderfully bright and mischievous guide Kishore and we spent an incredible day exploring the back streets of Varanasi. I just don't have the energy to describe the whole day right now, but the highlight has to be the wrestlers we went to visit, who were visibly shocked to have a woman in their compound. I hope you like the photo of me and the guys (to come)!!!

I made one daytrip to the incredible sacred Bhuddhist site of Saranath. This is where Bhuddha gave his very first lecture and is a special place. A real haven where you can breathe, only 20 kms away from the staggering mayhem and onslaught that is Varanasi. My companions were Sarah from England and Glem from Brazil, mates from the guest house. Can you believe that in the rick on the way there, Sarah asked me about my work and then realised that she'd seen me give a talk in Hackney about Filmaka? Too bizarre!

There was a Saraswati (god of education) festival on the weekend I arrived. Big gangs of young guys, (women are not so present in this city, it's deity is Shiva and it is truly a masculine place), were throwing red powder at each other and dancing in the streets to screeching music. They carried statues made of straw and clay and painted up like dolls down to the Ganga where they chanted, jumped in boats and then dropped them into the river. It was extraordinary.

This city has to be the noisiest place on earth. I'm so glad that I didn't realise that the piercing howls I heard every night were gangs of male dogs raping the females, until after I left. Though the sounds still haunt me. The air is heavy, but the Ganga countermands this. Although it's polluted (seriously you don't want to know) after a few days, you can see how seriously the people worship it and their rituals quickly becomes normal. I even stood in it when I did my first pooja (sacred offering) and let a holy man drip water on my hands. When in Rome!

One of the strangest experiences I had, was witnessing a British guy make a bonfire and ceremoniously burn his little toe. Seriously. It had gone gangreneous the previous year and he'd kept it mummifying in a matchbox, brought it with him to Varanasi and then just next to where we were all sitting and making music, he gathered with a bunch of friends and burnt it ("It's fizzing!!". Before you get squeamish, imagine watching whole bodies being cremated in front of you. That happens every day on the banks of the Ganga. And sadly I hear, the horrendous fires in Australia have brought many innocent people and their homes to a premature cremation. I say a little prayer.

On my last night in Varanasi, the mist rolled in as we sat by the fire drinking tea, smoking and jamming. I was sat between two of the most exquisite guitar players (Nicholas and Oli) while Sagi jumped between the flute, the tabla and the guitar. I even sang a bit, joining the others. At one stage, we realised that the mist had come in so close that it simply melded into the Ganga, so it looked like we were sitting by an abyss. I had to keep pinching myself that it was real.

It was magical. I met a couple who were leaving to get married in Nepal (aforementioned Oli and his British bride Fiona) with 20 guests, was serenaded by a Tibetan devotee and made endless pots of tea with Sagi. We were sitting outside his room, which is where I watched every sunrise. In fact, I watched 5 sunrises in a row in Varanasi. It was only the last night that was sleepless, I was just so charged being there and wanting to experience every minute that I needed very little rest.

I have another roll of pictures to develop, so I'll put more photos up soon but I hope these suffice for now. I'm sorry but I have to leave it there. I'm heading to Singapore tonight to visit my divine friend Maddy and my goddaughter Charlotte, (plus her Daddy Harry and her sister Claudia), and then I'm on to Oz where I arrive on Friday the 13th!!!

It feels so good to be heading home. I can't wait to see everyone. I'm not sure when I'll be writing here again, but I promise to do my best to keep this up in some fashion. Thank you to everyone who has been reading. Please leave your comments. I'd love to hear from you.

Namaste.

Lxxxxx

DOUBLE DOWNLOAD JEOPARDY

Ok, so after two massive brawls and a few hundred rupees, I moved myself to a wonderful guest house where my room overlooks the Ganga. It's perfect and is one of the original guest houses catering to travellers. I've met a great range of people already and don't even mind that my room doesn't have a sink! Or the crazy noises that emanate from the ghats below.

So before I bang on about Varanasi, which I'll leave for after my sunrise boat trip to check out the burning ghats and see the city from the water, I'll take you back to Jaipur.

My one and only festival post was in a sleep deprived, wine filled and floating state. As you may recall, I had just heard Rumi poetry purify my soul, (or was it that I was just overwhelmed by the atmosphere?), and sat next to Leila Seth. Well, I kept my promise and bought her autobiography the next day, and I tracked her down to dedicate it. I'm absolutely loving the book and had no idea I'd plonked myself next to India's first female Chief Justice. She trained as a lawyer after having her second child, in her 'down-time' when in London with no help whatsoever except for 2 weeks before her exams.

In the Durbar Hall of the Jaipur Literature Festival, I think I experienced the most stimulating and diverse week of my life. It's impossible for me to share with you all the authors and poets and musicians who took part (and don't forget I was in one of three venues, so sadly missed Thomas Keneally!!). So, I'll give you some bullet points to avoid this turning into yet another missive:

* Gulzar, truly one of India's most loved poets and lyricists (as previously mentioned) bears a second reference as Nichole (who ran the music stage on the front lawn and has become a mate) gave me a book of his poetry as a memento.

* I know I've been rabbitting on about his Mum, but Vikram Seth did a wonderful discussion on the front lawn whilst sipping red wine, of which a snap appeared in the local press and outraged many people. Honestly, he was sipping a glass of wine!!

* Alice Albinia is a British author and I can't wait to read her books, she was constantly referred to as a rising star. She was so bright and one of the few women on the stage, plus we shared a charpoy when listening to the Baul and shared nuts and bolts.

*Nadeem Aslam gave a fascinating look at India and its future with the brilliant Shoma Chaudhury hosting (another fab female).

*My new hero, Tarun Tejpal, who edits a brilliant magazine Tehelka, who stormed into the hall and blew everyone's socks off.

* The debate hosted by Madhu Trehan (top notch journo) and Manoj Raghuvanshi arguing "Whether it's possible to be honest in India?". Wow was this heated and fascinating, the stories of corruption, mostly shared by the audience were truly shocking, despite what one might have heard and read. There was even a murder witness in the audience who shared her story, which was chilling. And humbling.

*Chetan Bhagat got all the school kids and the women in a tizz, he has tapped into the younger generation's hearts and minds as no other author I saw there. I kept telling his kids off for making too much noise and his wife actually thanked me at the after party!!

*Patrick French in conversation with Pico Iyer. Need I say more? Heaven. Such different styles and such fascinating men.

* Nandita Das, Prasoon Joshi, Nasreen Munni Kabir and Vikas Swarup making the crowd swoon. This was actually a hellish session as any whiff of Bollywood and the audience went mad. I lost my cool during this session, the one and only time in the whole fest.

* My true hero and new friend William Dalrymple (see right down the bottom with his wife Olive, Vikram Seth and moi), my secret crush Colin Thubron (double my age and so lovely), the divine Pico Iyer and a new and impressive face Charles Nicholl who gave delicious travel readings. It could have gone on all day. I wanted to let it.

* Simon Schama. What a dynamo! He gave one session on Obama and American history and then another on Picasso. What a man, what a brain. Mine hurt.

* THE Tina Brown dishing the dirt on Princess Diana and Vanity Fair. Lascerating tongue. She admitted that Tarun T's mag Tehelka is her fave in the world.

* And soooooo much more. If you can make it to Jaipur next January, you really, seriously should. You can bet I'll be doing my utmost to be there.

I really couldn't believe the quality and quantity of authors, poets and I have hardly touched on the musicians yet, who were all singing for their supper at the Diggi Palace (what a setting) with such intensity and every single event was FREE. Plus everyone was thrown in together, there was no green room. The brilliant Teamwork Productions crew worked like demons to ensure that whether you were royalty, a school child or a guy off the street, you were made to feel welcome.

I must say that Sanjoy, Sheuli and Ila all lead by example and every single person who worked at the festival (too many to name but Avani who helped me out at Durbar Hall and is such a friend now, must be singled out) made it super special. The atmosphere was electric. Inspiring. Challenging and truly fascinating. It was an absolute honour.

I really have to go to bed now. I can't wait to see another sunrise.
Lxxxx

SHE'S ALIVE, SHE'S ALIVE

I went down, down, down with a cold and exhaustation after the festival. I'm sorry for my silence but I gave every ounce of myself and then danced like a maniac at the closing night party, forgot to eat dinner, drank too much champers and got a chill. Typical!

At least it was in style at the City Palace where the theme was black & red. Yes, my fave combination. It was by far the classiest festival closing I've ever been to. And the French/Algerian dj was such fun, as were his various dancers who whirled around the perfect lawn with the turban-ed waiters attending our every need. Gosh it was gorgeous. And we were all so exhausted and elated, so we had a blast. Noone wanted to go home.

I can't wait to get the photos developed. There is still so much to tell you about the festival but I think I'll work backwards as I've got limited time.

I've just arrived at Varanasi. India's holiest city. Many proclaim it to be the oldest city in the world It runs a pigrimage line from and to Kanyakumari, where I spent the last full moon. It's where many people come to die or be re-born, there are burning bodies right on the Ganga. It's a staggering sight and experience, though they do camp it up for the tourists and follow you about mercilessly. It's a magical place.

After sleeping and snuffling the week away in Jaipur, missing my ride on an Enfield through Rajasthan to a Sufi festival and taking some time out at Krishna's wonderful guest house with all the colourful characters (more on them later, it's been like Days of Our Lives, seriously), I decided it was time to move yesterday.

It was hard to leave my new friends, but I had cabin fever. Just a quick word to the lovely lads in the photo. Adi is a brilliant Rajasthani musician and he introduced me to the wonderful Nichole and sorted out my guest house. Then came over for visits and played music for us, just as he's doing here while Rado (divine Slovenian who lives in Holland)is singing a folk song from home.


My god I nearly forgot to tell you about Nichole's and my lunch with the royalty of Jaipur. In short, I had left a bag at the closing night party and when I went back to pick it up, the Marketing Manager invited me and Nichole to come for lunch with the royal family. I dragged my cold ridden body out of bed and we got snazzied up and raced to the palace. We were greeted with flowers and musicians and given champagne. But no royalty appeared, turns out the Marketing Manager is a bit lonely after leaving London so he and his assistant hosted us for a delicious lunch. It was a slight let down, as we realsed we'd been lead up the garden path. But it was a beautiful, jewel laden path with a feast at the end. So we just giggled all the way home.


I tried to race to the railway station but only made it by midday. Everyone had said it was an overnight train leaving in the evening, so I didn't bother packing. Yup, the train was leaving at 3.30pm. I threw far too many things into my poor rucksack, ate lunch in record time (always know I'm better when I've got my appetite back) and made it onto the train having secured a nice sleeper. My first overnight train experience was pretty civilised, though I hardly slept a wink as it was lumpy as hell.

Pity the train terminated in Lucknow (capital of Uttar Pradesh) at 2.45am instead of going on to Varanasi as it was supposed to!! Most fortunately the lady sleeping below me, the gorgeous and wonderful Sushita, helped me and two London based nurses Liz (Brit) and Arik (Pole) get a car to take us on. We didn't fancy the shit fight of another train journey and the trip was entrancing, despite our tired eyes. I love watching India scratch its scrawny butt, yawn and then wake up with a groggy, colourful grin. People only really kick into gear at 10am.

Little did we know what was ahead of us in the car. For a few hours it was dark and easy going, except for the huge piles of stones that seemed to take up half the 'highway' and the massive trucks that kept coming head on. I was most glad not to be in the front and that I'd remembered to charge my iPod. Jeff Buckley continues to keep me company. I'll never tire of Grace.

We decided after a beautiful sunrise (blood red) and so many amazing sights (wild camels sauntering about in packs, monkeys abounding, groups of women wrapping themselves in vibrant colours, kids causing trouble) that we'd wait and have breakfast in Varanasi, as it was only 50km away. Ha! It took us many hours of circumnavigating the city to find our way to Liz and Arik's hotel. The relief. The view of the Ganges (Mother Ganga) that greeted us. It's beyond description. It made me realise why Rado had confided in me two nights ago, when I was trying to decide on one more stop in India before I head back to Bombay, "Dahhling, the Taj Mahal is beautiful but it's a dead monument and Agra is a pit, you can do it later, you haven't really done India until you've been to Varanasi."

For now I just want to let you know that I'm ok. There's so much I need to 'download' as my lovely new friend Nichole says. Unfortunately the hotel she recommended was full and I ended up being taken for a ride by a little boy (the touts here are uber professional) and ended up in some crappy overpriced place.

I've just had a shower, wandered along the Ganga, visited the fascinating Kedarnad temple (my forehead is covered in tika by Gita Tiwari) and found the perfect place. How am I going to get myself out of the hovel where I've just showered and strewn my clothes?!?!?

Wish me luck. More soon.
Lxxxxx

WARNING: BLISS OVERLOAD

I've been trying to work out how to explain in words what's going on all around me.

You may have noticed that I'm having a rather overwhelming time in India. That I'm brimming over with platitudes and enthusiasm. Sorry about that but I can't help it. Tough.

Only continue reading if you're ready for more.

It's hard to portray the depth of feeling here at this festival. At this time. It feels rather like history is being made, but I may be going overboard.

It's only been two days but I feel like I've been taken to places that I only dreamt about. And there are three more days to be savoured. That magic number 3. It seems to figure constantly in my life. But I digress.

The Jaipur Literary Festival has become a home for the most incredible array of people. It's the most diverse mixture of intelligensia and vagabonds I've ever encountered. As I write this, an Israeli band is performing the most beautiful music on the front lawn of the Diggi Palace. A palace filled with love and peace is the mission.

A Pakistani musician called Junoon just jammed with a Rajasthani drummer and the crowd went wild. I was racing about trying to sort out delegate passes for some artists and decided it was time to sit down after an intense two days of running the main hall here. The Durbar Hall is my most welcome ball and chain.

I'm not sure how I was moved from blogger to hosting the main venue for the festival but I'm humbled and privileged by the task. It's intense to say the least. The place is heaving with the most incredible intellectuals and I'm introducing authors. I'm introducing Oscar nominees for god's sake!!!!

Gulzar is India's most famous and beloved poet (that's him in white). Yesterday I had to tell his audience that we were out of time and that we had to wrap up. Five, or was it 10 times. People were fighting to get inside the venue I'm running, with the incredible support of the diminutive Avani. We are such a team.


He has just received an Oscar nomination for the song that he wrote the words for Slumdog Millionaire. My favourite film of 2008. The film that swept the BIFAs and now the Golden Globes and now has 10 Oscar nominations. It's screening here tomorrow night. Tomorrow is going to be nuts.

Amitabh Bachchan is coming. If you can imagine the biggest star of the western celebrity infirmament, then times it by 100. Seriously. That's who's turning up tomorrow at our festival. He is a god here. He is India's biggest star and he's a god. He can cross every age and class barrier here in terms of adulation. That is quite a feat.

I am sitting with 3 people now who are working at the festival. We've just been debating how the adoration of Amitabh differs from ANY western celebrity. I don't think I can eloquently relay what was just shared with me, but believe me. Tomorrow we're going to see crowds and hysteria that are terrifying. [By the way, that's Avani on the left and Krytika on the right.]

At Gulzar's poetry reading, I saw a press photographer who was talking on his mobile, that I told to shut the fuck up (very nicely mind you) almost come to blows with a woman who was trying to help me shut him up. We had to lock the doors as people were rushing the doors and getting into fights.

This is the same Gulzar, who just wandered into the office I'm writing this from and used our loo. I apologised to him as he came out, for cutting his session off and said that even though I don't speak Hindi, I could feel the love from him and his audience and that I loved every minute. Can you believe he said to me, "I saw you and I could see that you were understanding every word"!?!? What a class act.

One more gushing story and I'll leave the rest for a post mortem as I'm working my way through a bottle of wine and haven't eaten and it's almost 11pm but I just had to share something with you.

My incredible friend and ex-boss, Martha Fiennes, introduced me to William Dalrymple and therefore it's because of her and various wonderful connections, (Constance is cousins with his wife Olive and they're friends of my cousins Charlie Burrell and his wife Issy who is Martha's great friend and a wonderful travel writer...), that I'm here.

Anyway, Martha also introduced me via email to Aradhana Seth who is Vikram's sister and a great friend of Willy's. They made documentaries for the BBC together and although Martha and her never met, she sent me her email. So Aradhana and I have been emailing since I left London, sporadically.

Tonight when Junoon went on stage, I tried to go and join my Bengali friends at their table but all the seats were taken. I asked about 5 or 6 people if the chairs next to them were free and they all said no until I asked a wizened, gorgeous old woman. She motitoned for me to take the chair next to her. I tried to pick it up, thinking I'd take it back to the Bengali table where my new friends Duniya, Mimlu and Paban were sitting with their friends, but the chair was stuck under hers. So I sat. As the music was divine and she had such a warm face.

Someone brought her a red wine. I was jealous. She leant across and told me that the man who had brought it was India's top heart doctor. I smiled and we swayed to the music. She apologised for having wine when I didn't. I was a little jealous, but what can you do?

I saw a waiter a few moments later and tried to catch him. I had to race half way across the lawn. The demand for seats was so intense by now, when I came back, she'd used her umbrella to save it for me. I sat back down and within a few minutes, her daugher arrived to check on her. As we were sitting so close together, due to the conjoined chairs, her daughter introduced herself. Aradhana Seth.

I had sat down next to Leila Seth. When Aradhana heard my name, she asked if I was the same Laura she'd been emailing with. Yes. That's me.

Leila pushed her son off the bestsellers list with her one and only book. Her autobiography. I promised to buy it tomorrow. I can't wait to read it.

On the live feed, Willy and Olive Dalrymple appeared. They were up the front of the concert clapping and singing. I pointed to them and said, "They are the reason I'm here. Do you know them?" Turns out that Willy D calls Aradhana his Mother Superior and has known the Seth's for 15 years. Here's me, having known them for less than a week, introducing them to Leila Seth.

What a world. What a world. I can't go on anymore. It's now 11.11pm and I have drunk half a bottle of wine (at least) and I should have some dinner. Forgive me. I will write again soon. But it might be after the festival finishes.

This place, this country, the people. It's all love. It's crazy, fucked up, heavenly, corrupt and insane. But it's pure. In a way that's hard to portray.

All I know is that I'm in heaven. And I'm so blessed to be able to share it with you. Now.
But now, I must eat.
More soon.
Lxxxxx

P.S. I'm too tired to edit this. Forgive any errors and over-the-topness.

FEST TIME AMIDST THE PINK CITY

I awoke on Sat to the arrival from Paris of Duniya, daughter of the most fascinating Mimlu. We had a lovely breakfast where she filled me in on her family history. Mimlu is just finishing a book about her life and I can't wait to read it. Born to Tahitian/Indian/French parents, Mimlu has had a few husbands and many children and they all get along. Most Christmases are spent in either Paris or Calcutta all together. Her husband Paban is the most exquisite Bengali musician and they are all performing at the festival.

Duniya works in Paris for the film production company that produced La Vie En Rose (Edit Piaf's biopic) and they're soon to release the director's next film which stars Renee Zelwegger and Forest Whittaker. We had lots to talk about, as you can imagine, but she was exhausted from her flight. So, William and I accompanied Adam to his football game.

On arrival, we watched the end of another game where the parents were shouting and getting in the way. After giggling at them, Adam and his team took the pitch. William was instantly transformed, forgetting his half eaten blackberry (thanks to Albinia's jealousy, she had pecked out the A, E, W and S to his immense, but good natured frustration) he paced the side of the pitch shouting encouragement and instructions. I joined is as Adam chased down the ball fearlessly. It was such fun. And his team, the Royal Falcons beat the Red Devils 3-0.

Back at the farm, Paban and Mimlu had arrived and would you believe that when I told them about Emma's film in Calcutta, they remembered meeting both her and Cam. It turns out that Paban sings a song for the film and had been on set the one day that Cam visited over Christmas to lip sync his song. What a crazy, small, wonderful world it is.

Olive and her friend Claire arrived back from Jaipur full of stories about their week there. It was wonderful to finally meet Olive and everyone in the house was overjoyed to have her back. We ate a delicious meal, in between practice sessions where Paban played various instruments, as did Mimlu while Duniya sang with Paban. We all jangled bells and sang a bit and it was a gorgeous eve.

I was staying out in the Arabian tent as the house was full and woke up to the sound of thunder and lightening, which was rather surprising. A misty morning greeted me as I made plans to head to Jaipur, as William insisted I get involved. The ever patient Sanjoy put me in touch with his spitfire number 2, Sheuli and along with the lovely Shupta, the 3 of us ladies zoomed along the packed highways into Rajasthan.

Poor Sheuli's phone didn't stop, as she's the main point of contact for all talent and there are endless issues with visas and travel arrangements, but she handled them all with incredible efficiency and a warm manner. I tried not to gasp and jump as we avoided vehicles of every shape and size, silly me sitting in the front.

Sanjoy has asked me to blog for the festival site, which is such a welcome request. It means I can attend the readings and lectures and events and will be just like the old days when I used to work as a journalist covering film festivals. The only drawback is having to write everything up at the end of very long days, but it's all for a wonderful cause. I am absolutely delighted to be involved and Sheuli has sorted a laptop for me. So, I might not get a chance to blog on my site this week. Apparently my blogs/diaries will be on the festival site.

Driving into Jaipur last night was incredible. The city is divided into three sections, we drove through Old Jaipur first which was choking with people and animals and general mayhem. We passed the floating palace and some beautiful forts and buildings. Then we entered the gobsmacking Pink City. Everything is a dusky, rosey pink and the gates that signal your entry and exit are astounding. Then we zoomed into New Jaipur and I was dropped off at my guest house where the lovely Laxman greeted me warmly and I zonked out almost immediately.

This majestic capital city of Rajasthan has already captivated me. I had a few errands to do on the way to Diggi Palace (where the festival is being held) so I decided to walk. Walk?!?! It was hard to get rid of the rickshaws and people following me but I was resolute to find my own way. Finally I reached the palace, but it was the wrong one - City Palace instead. So I relented and jumped in a rick as I couldn't resist Kaif's charms. Indian really know how to joke with you and your frustrations just melt as they good naturedly try to charge you double the going rate!! Gosh it was fun battling the streets and getting to know the city a bit. I arrived to find Sheuli and Shupta melting in the hot sun and sitting on the front lawn where Vikram Seth will be in a few short days.

The Dalrymple clan arrive tomorrow and the madness will begin. If you're reading this and you happen to be in India, come to the festival. It's going to be so much fun.
Better scoot. More photos and things soon.
Lxxxx

DELIGHTS OF DELHI

On arrival at Indira Ghandi airport, I was clutching a list of directions from my soon-to-be host. the wonderful writer William Dalrymple. After negotiating a driver who spoke some English, which took some doing, I ended up with 18 year old Mihesh. I was feeling rather pleased with myself as we zoomed along, thinking smugly that we might just get there without having to call fifteen times for help.

Oh no, no, no. Turns out despite my instructions, we had got on the wrong road and had almost zoomed to the next town past Mehrauli. Needless to say, a few phonecalls found us on the right road and then the pleasure of yet another argument with someone you thought was straight up trying to rip you off (they start young here!!) and I was finally at my destination.

William and Olive, (though I'm yet to meet the lady of the house as she's running an art and craft festival in Jaipur), have the most wonderful home which is set on a sizeable acreage and has a wide variety of animals. Albinia is the resident cocktatoo, [posing here with Sam] reminding me of home and most talented, she can say a very posh "Hello I'm Albinia" and loves spreading out her wings when sprayed with a fine mist of water. Gilbert and George are a crazy pair of goats. George has recently impregnated his mother to everyone's slight alarm.

Then there are the new puppies Chocolate and Fudge, named by the two Dalrymple boys who I probably should have mentioned before the pets!!! Sam and Adam are truly divine. They're bright, well spoken, enthusiastic, sassy and great company. We've been watching David Attenborough fossil programs and discussing all manner of things. Sam's rock collection is mighty impressive (aka 'his etchings'!!).

So apart from the dogs and peacocks and chickens (rooster named Stanley of course) and various other creatures, the house is teeming with incredible artifacts from various travels and the books. My god, the books. I've hardly had my nose out of one since I arrived. William has given me all sorts of advice about onward travels and has recommended some amazing places off the beaten track.

He's working like crazy on his literature festival, which starts on Wed (21st Feb) and has grown from 6 authors 4 years ago (I think) to 180 artists this year including musicians and filmmakers. Wow! Just in case you fancy a peek, check out the Jaipur Literature Festival site, for some reason I can't post the link but it comes up first in Google.

Amongst many missions and themes, the festival is promoting a dialogue with Pakistan, which is so healthy as there are a lot people here who simply want to boycott the whole country. Their relationship sits on a knife edge and William is determined to do his part at this tricky time. A lot of the Pakistani artists are coming on their own dime to show their commitment. I'm so excited that Vikram Seth will be there, and Shekhar Kapur and Thomas Keneally just confirmed. Yippee! And sooooo many more talented people. I can't wait.

So, I spent my first afternoon exploring the Mehrauli archaeological park, which is close by and filled with fascinating ruins and the famous Q'utb Minar, which I couldn't get into as I arrived in between tour times, so we drove through the bazaar which was full of life. I ended up in a mosque listening to the call to prayer that so dominates life in the east.

I've now had two full days of touring Delhi, leaving each time with a list of William's recommendations and being driven around by his fave taxi driver Kapoor, who is wonderful and most importantly knows his way back to the farm. It's hard to convey the breadth and depth of this city if you haven't been here. The architecture is astounding, the museums are brimming over, the streets are ancient, the bazaars are electric and the general mayhem is completely addictive.

If I went through everything I've seen, I'd never finish this post and it's getting late. So, a taste of my favourites has to include the astounding spectacle of driving past the government buildings, the architecture is glorious, simply stunning - the Brits got that right! The Indira Ghandi memorial was very moving and I'm so glad I insisted on going to the Triveni tea terrace for lunch. I ended up sitting with a charming guy called Piyush who edits the Hindi journal for the top notch, fine art Lalit Kala Academy. It turns out he was asked to present at William's festival but couldn't, as he's just started his prestigious job but he knows half of the people presenting and marked up my schedule for me, plus he insisted on buying me lunch! So generous and such a welcome coincidence in a lovely setting by the sculpture garden. Thank you Piyush for the recommendation to visit the arts and crafts museum. The textiles blew my mind.

I have to mention Humayun's tomb as it was spectacular but the white breasted kingfisher I saw at the Lodi Gardens at sunset (plus the sounds of all the birds there) with it's bright blue feathers had to be the highlight of the day. Oh no, that's only my first day. Sorry.

Today was spent putting up posters and getting photos sorted first at Khan Market. Then I went to the Red Fort, which was much better than I expected as the Brits obliterated in in the siege, so my expectations were low. However William gave me a brilliant book that took me on a walk and described how it used to look, providing me current references that helped my imagination to run free. I put in my headphones and listened to Lamb and just wandered, ignoring everyone who looked my way. Bliss. Funny how quickly you learn to be a Madam here. Or perhaps I've always been one?!? Don't answer that.

The Jamal Masjid mosque was awe inspiring but very busy, plus it was well into mid arvo and I was starving. So I drank it in and then went on and found the famous Kamil's where I had a massive and delicious lunch. I then wandered for hours around the Chandi Chowk bazaar and can see why its sights and smells inspire people so. I finally decided it was time to leave and got into huge negotiations with a bicycle rickshaw and about 10 passersby. When he quoted me 50 rupees and I replied, "So that means I should be paying 25" they all laughed heartily. Thank you to the young boys who shouted, "Don't pay more than 15 or 20".

However after the driver braved crazy traffic and talked to a concerned Kapoor who was wondering where I was, plus seeing the holes in his clothes and how skinny the poor guy was I gave him 25 for the trip. That's about 30 pence by the way.

So here I am back at Chez Dalrymple sitting in front of a roaring fire and feeling absolutely shattered. It's such a happy sort of tired, though I feel slightly sick at what I spent on the most Kashmiri shawl I've ever seen and my belly is still full from my afternoon meal at Kamil's. I must admit that overall I feel happier than I have in a long, long time. Travelling nourishes the soul like nothing else for me. I'm the luckiest person alive, that is for shizzle!

So, the house gets filled with musicians and their families tomorrow and I am sleeping in the tent. Delhi is quite cold, unlike Bombay's winter you really go need to rug up here, so I hope I don't freeze out there with the goats and chickens. I was only supposed to stay one night but somehow time is marching on and I'm being made to feel so welcome and at home. There's a fun party brewing for tomorrow eve and I'm excited to head to the Taj Mahal (William says it's one of the few places in the world that lives up the hype) and then onwards to Jaipur for the start of the festival on Wed.

I have just over 3 weeks to go and promise to keep you posted as much as possible.

Promise!

Lxxx