Where was Papa? I wanted to ask him how come this dream (nightmare) wasn’t ending and why was I in this uncomfortable, ugly hospital bed with my limbs in metal braces in the first place. Where on earth was I?

Why was I not in my apartment in the East Village living the young millennial’s life in NYC?

Soon enough, a deeply fraught looking, as I imagine he must have been, Papa, was standing by my bedside. He must have been uneasy at being asked a question that required an answer that was bound to rattle me.

“Pom, mama and I have already explained to you that you are now in New Delhi, in a hospital.”

“You’ve had a bad accident.”

“No, you were not in New York, but in Uganda.”  

“But now you are safe here, with mama and papa.”

Alright, so I’d had an accident. But what was all this about Uganda? A serious accident. I had completely blanked out on the fact that I had given up my Wall Street job in June for an exciting life working with women farmers in Uganda. And it was now January 2011. What had happened to the rest of 2010?

Read the rest at Huffington Post