“People always ask me when I am going to come down from the clouds. Never. I like this view.”
Imagine you are sitting on the back of a motorcycle, riding down a winding dirt foot path through fields of rice and sugar cane. All you can see in front of you is a bright orange turban, as the driver is a friendly Punjabi (Sikh) man, the kind of grandpa any child would be lucky to have. To your right are a few teenagers jumping into the largest pile of hay you have ever seen, and to your left, at least twenty ox grazing in a field. Now let’s back up a bit so I can tell you how I got here.