What the Mouth Wants, the Stomach Doesn’t

I have been horribly ill for the majority of the last week, thus my lack of postings. I've been writing postings in bed while recovering, but have only been able to post them since arriving in gorgeous Calangute in the state of Goa.

Luckily, I was quite well enough to attend events leading up to Rohit’s wedding, as well as the magical wedding itself! Unfortunately, I was floored about a second bout of illness and was unable to attend the reception in Delhi. =( My apologies to Rohit, Srividya, and their families for not being able to participate in the celebration of this perfect union!

My next postings will pick up on these events as if I hadn’t been laid flat out by what I’m calling “the mutton keema.” But before I do that – I wanted to talk a little bit about what it is like to be ill in completely foreign place.

I am sure that many of you, my worldly friends, have already experienced this. But this was my first time, and if I’m lucky, it won’t be my last. By this, I mean that I hope to continue to have a good fortune to visit places in this wonderous world that have microorganisms foreign enough to demolish my gastrointestinal system!

It all started in the office on Thursday. I was feeling great – and had even had a delicious vege breakfast with Teja and Vishal at Chutney’s before coming into the office (no more takeaway!). If I lived in Hyderabad, I’d probably go to Chutney’s at least twice a week for brunch! They serve impeccably done typical Indian breakfasts – dosa, idli, and uttapam – for extremely reasonable prices in a low-key and comfortable atmosphere.

The fascinating thing about this place was that it seemed to be where a lot of business meetings and deals were being brokered in a very quiet way. I may be wrong in my assessment – but it seems to be Hyderabad's equivalent of Buck’s in Woodside, CA in Silicon Valley.

But, I digress. So, I was feeling great, but then…I won’t go into the details, but I was basically lying under my desk in the fetal position, hoping that the pain would pass, and trying not to startle any passersby with my corpse-like appearance. Lucky for you...this is one thing I have not taken any photos of!

When it was clear that I was not getting better, Ameet, Priya, Hiren, and my driver Khaja Basha came to my aid. I am not one to use religious metaphors, but they were like angels. I regret that because I was so ill, I was not able at the time to thank them as coherently as they deserved.

Khaja took me back to the Taj Deccan, and then the gracious staff there picked up and the hotel doctor, Dr. Rao, came to my room to examine my symptoms. Within minutes, he had written a prescription and a hotel staff member was off to a chemist to purchase the pills.

The total bill for this care was $10 and the medication was $2.

I cannot believe how efficient the care was and how effective the treatment.

I believe what laid me out was what I would call the most delicious Indian dish I have had in my life – it was mutton keema at the Central Hotel in Hyderabad. I could not believe how flavorful this dish was! But strangely enough, as soon as I started feeling symptoms, I knew that it was the culprit. It is odd how the body just knows these things.

Along these lines, I had a extreme pleasure of meeting and talking extensively with Rohit’s uncle, Dr. R.K. Mittal, a professor emeritus of Chemistry. He is an older gentleman and was holding court with other uncles and aunties of Rohit’s, who appeared to enjoy his “living room lectures” and was telling an entertaining series of anecdotes about getting older. At one point, he said, “What the mouth wants, the stomach doesn’t. And what the stomach wants, the mouth doesn’t.” And this could not be more true in the case of mutton keema!

So, to return to present day, I am writing this in Delhi. I have become ill again, and even moreso. I have a new driver in Delhi named Billu, who Karen so kindly referred me to before I left the states. Thank you to Karen for this reference -- Billu rocks!

Billu saved my life in Delhi by taking me to hospital when my symptoms did not subside for over 24 hours despite my taking drugs that usually fix these things. I was highly doubtful when we arrived at the hospital. It was in a huge dusty strip mall in the middle of an absolutely bustling commercial area and I had to leap over a sewage canal to get to it. I made the ignorant snap judgement that not only was I not going to get better by going to this hospital – but that I was actually going to pick up a few more illnesses!

But, I let faith lead me and Billu deftly guided me through crowds of people also looking for care and within minutes, I was sitting with a doctor who asked me my symptoms, looked at my tongue, and told me that basically my digestive system was demolished. He prescribed five separate items, which definitely seemed more holistic in addressing my illness than the immodium-popping I was doing:

An antibiotic
A probiotic pill
A probiotic solution
An antioxidant
Anti-indigestion pills

The total cost for this care was $2.50 and the medication was $20.

I am astounded that I could walk in from the street in a country of which I am not a citizen and get care within 30 minutes for this price.

As Billu drove me back to Rohit's flat in Dwarka, I explained my series of illnesses and he busted out with a totally Anthony Bourdain “Kitchen Confidential” moment. He said that yes, it probably was the mutton keema. For those of you who have not had this dish – it is basically diced lamb in a rich dark sauce. Billu has a friend who is a butcher who said that the meat they sell for keema is basically the scraps from all other mutton cuts and is sometimes collected up over the course of a few days before being sold. It all became horrifyingly clear!

So, after assessing my diagnosis and the regimen involved in taking my medications, I made the difficult decision to leave Rohit’s sister’s flat #107 and get a hotel room in central Delhi. Rohit’s family was a dream come true in their generosity and hospitality – but because of my condition, I was feeling like a bad and gross guest! They insisted that I remain there – and I wish I could have, but I just was feeling too self-conscious and I thought that I would recover faster if I put myself into solitary confinement.

So, Billu delivered me to the Blue Belle Hotel in central Delhi, room #107, and I’m ready to see what comes next!