the one where *I GUSH* over...india!

plus, a Q&A with Sheila Yasmin Marikar, author of FRIENDS IN NAPA

today’s newsletter is going to be a bit different, but I hope you’ll stick with me because I promise I’ll land this memory-lane plane (eventually).

this week, a project at work had me digging into the details of a northern India itinerary for our site at the very same time that three people I know were documenting their own adventures through Delhi, Agra, Jaipur and Udaipur. the confluence of it all it sent me SPIRALING back through memories seared onto my subconscious by a country that long ago captured my heart in the most complicated way possible.

before we dive in, know that—for better or for worse—I’m an extremely nostalgic person. what unfolded over the course of my many months in India sent me straight to my first big girl job as a travel advisor and, ultimately, the million moments in between that brought me to this very [privileged] place living in New York, writing to you. needless to say, I’m a bit precious about it all. if you too believe in the “butterfly effect,” then you feel me and understand how every little choice we make (especially in our formative years) can ultimately feel like…well, for fear of plagiarising Slumdog Millionaire, “it was written.”

let’s take it back a decade. the year is 2014, and my college advisor comes to me with an opportunity to “trial” a brand new exchange program they’re looking to get off the ground in Managlore, India.

no, not Bangalore.

Managlore. you probably (definitely) haven’t heard of it.

“would I be willing to be the guinea pig?” she asked.

few would give up their final semester of senior year with their friends to be halfway across the world on a program with zero proof of concept…but, that’s precisely what made me the perfect candidate. I’ve always loved doing the unexpected.

the following year of exploratory escapades before joining “the real world” began with a summer internship in D.C. at a conservative think tank, only to realize the world of international affairs wasn’t what I thought it would be—as that final college summer came to a close, I knew I needed to pivot away from my dreams of living and working in the capital. I wasn’t sure what I’d do instead with an International Studies degree as there were no other careers I was coveting, but I had the luxury of time to figure it out.

that fall, I departed for my second semester in France. why, you ask? well, there was a boy involved. of course, there was a boy!!! and when I showed up in Grenoble without an apartment (naturally, I thought I was far too cool for the dorms) to call home, I checked out a place where two French-speaking guys were looking for a roommate, got verbal confirmation I could move in the following week, dropped my bags at a hostel storage locker, and jetted off to Barcelona to see aforementioned Euro man.

in the interest of time, let’s skip that semester and the following holiday season spent in Spain, where my mom met my then-boyfriend and cut straight to INCREDIBLE INDIA.

according to the above photo that I just dragged out of the archives (the filter is SENDING me!!!!) it seems my Barcelona-Paris-Mumbai-Mangalore routing brought me to my new temporary home on January 10, 2015.

I’d seen and done a great deal within Europe at that point, but nothing had prepared me for what I would experience over the following months on the subcontinent. as a raging feminist still so naive about what a bubble I’d grown up in, India challenged me in every way possible. something as simple as walking to school in Mangalore drew attention I didn’t want, but completely covering up my blonde hair and light skin just wasn’t going to happen on 90-degree days. for visual reference, the pics below are of me at the university where I was trialing the exchange program alongside then-classmates from the St. Aloysius Sociology School.

this period showed me that no matter how little I liked it, I needed to find a new way to operate in the world—one where I respected the customs and traditions of a place I didn’t understand while being open to learning something new about myself in the process. turns out, I could adapt more than I ever knew possible. I could take in the teachings at my Christian college while seeing my Muslim male classmates depart for mid-day prayers and simultaneously seek understanding about how a majority Hindu country approached everything from friendship to food. for instance, in the state of Karnataka, where I was living, it was illegal to slaughter cows. needless to say, I ate a lot of chicken and paneer that semester.

another lesson I learned during this time? India is absolutely gigantic (DUH). I covered so much less ground than I expected, despite seeking special permission from school to take long weekends and extra time off to travel. I took overnight trains I’d rather forget, slept in dozens of hostels, recovered from the hellish depths of food poisoning while on the road, and navigated it all with an iPhone 6 that I’m *pretty positive* didn’t have a data plan.

HOW?? none of this seems possible to me at this stage in my hyper-connected life, but we all did it, didn’t we? we just figured out how to get from point A to B to C before we had high-speed internet in the palm of our hands anywhere in the world.

part of what I wrote about for work this week that had me boarding the nostalgia train was visiting the Taj Mahal at sunrise. I’ll never forget the purple-tinged morning I set foot here before floods of crowds converged on these sacred grounds. maybe it’s because I’m currently rewatching Lion as I type (my perfect Saturday night in, by the way, accompanied by a slice of Magnolia chocolate cake!), or maybe it’s something that truly cuts deeper, but I’m literally teary-eyed thinking about how lucky I was to have had this special bucket list moment at merely twenty-one.

keeping in line with the dichotomy that epitomized my India experience, that magical morning at the Taj Mahal was immediately followed by feeling deathly ill but being obliged to continue on from Agra to Vrindavan for Holi Festival celebrations at Banke Bihari Temple. I’m not going to go into detail about the train rides, or how after 24 hours in bed, I recovered just enough to make it to the festival only to find out that a celebration where you have to close your eyes half the time—considering you’re getting colored powder thrown at your face—makes for an inopportune scenario to be touched and grabbed in places you’d rather not be. luckily for me, I’ve never been afraid to throw an elbow when needed. so rest assured, I was sure to make the best of it.

and please, please excuse the terrible embarrassment of me using a selfie stick to document the experience below…let’s remember that 2015 was a different time in the digital age!!!!

the duality of this high-high and low-low in a matter of mere days is exactly why I think back so fondly on India. nothing here was one thing, it was so many things all at once, a complicated pulling apart of emotions that oscillated between exhilarating, frustrating, reassuring, and life-affirming, often simultaneously.

because in addition to the challenges I’ve mentioned above about finding a new way to operate in the world, I was equally welcomed into spaces that I had no business being in. the simplest example of this kindness? I was once invited to join a wedding celebration despite having no relationship with the bride or groom—and this was just one of the hundreds of acts of generous hospitality I was shown as I explored places like Goa, Delhi, Agra, Vrindavan, Mumbai, Bangalore, and beyond.

thinking back on India all these years later, I can appreciate it from a fresh perspective. I am so grateful for the tests this time put in front of me.

I desperately want to return.

I’m craving the sensory overload: the layered heat in every biryani. the ring of the call to prayer reverberating through the muggy air. the brightly colored flowers stacked unthinkably high on the streets. the bliss of honing my yoga practice in its homeland. the refreshing mango lassi. the side-to-side head wiggle I could never really master. the way a tuk-tuk felt as normal as a taxi. the warm smiles offered with each cup of chai. the peaceful co-existence of so many spiritual practices on full display.

in closing, here’s the part where I land the plane—the part where I talk about how thankful I am that my time in India led me to exactly where I am today.

it comes into crystal clarity when I think back on a solo jaunt for a rooftop drink at The Four Seasons Hotel Mumbai. I have no idea how I even knew that this magnificent property existed on my broke-as-a-joke college budget, but after months spent in a revolving door of hostels, I found myself on the Four Seasons’ 34th floor. the thrill of managing to “get in” had me on such a high that I nearly glazed over the view. there was the scenic water and the city’s glittering high rises on one side and on the other, Dharavi—Asia’s largest slum.

this view encapsulated exactly what India is to me: a place that won’t let you look away.

as graduation approached, I was back in Mangalore panicking about what kind of job I could pursue that would allow me to continue having these types of experiences—the ones that forced me to get to know myself and the world around me better. sitting in my bedroom, I Googled (honestly, probably Bing-ed…) my way to my first travel industry job back in Buffalo. I remember taking the Skype interview with Liberty Travel right there from my flat with a 9.5-hour time difference ahead of New York. I had no idea what I was saying “yes” to, but I knew I was gainfully employed.

so, it was written: I started as a travel agent two weeks after graduating and never looked back.

nearly nine years later—seven of which have been spent on the marketing side rather than sales—the travel industry and the people who make it so special are my home, no matter where in the world the actual work takes us. together, we are an amalgamation of our unique experiences, the places we’ve set foot, the people we’ve met along the way, and the lessons we’ve learned as we’ve been tested to figure out exactly who we are—and who we want to become.

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meet Sheila Yasmin Marikar

Sheila Yasmin Marikar

has immersed herself in writing feature articles about food, wine, wellness, and popular destinations for the New York Times, the New Yorker, Vogue, and other leading publications for the past decade. Fascinated by the unusual and flamboyant people she’s interviewed during her journalism career, she turned to fiction, skewering the foibles of the health and wellness industry in her debut novel, The Goddess Effect, “a funny and fresh coming-of-age tale.”

Mindy Kaling was so captivated by Marikar’s second novel that she published it under her own imprint. FRIENDS IN NAPA addresses the truth and consequences of wealth, ambition, and competition among friends against the backdrop of California’s wine country. It was released by Mindy’s Book Studio on April 1, 2024.

Kayla Douglas: Sheila, tell us a bit about your background and the path that led you to becoming a writer. What prompted your leap into novel writing?

Sheila Yasmin Marikar: Way back when, I wanted to be an artist. I had some talent and pursued this path until it came time to apply to college. When I realized that my success would depend on other peoples’ opinions about my paintings and drawings, as well as how elusive “success” is for any artist, I lost steam. I began to dread painting. I remember being 16 or 17 and looking at a landscape I was struggling with and thinking, I don’t want to do this for money. I don’t want to do this at all, anymore. My parents also gently nudged me in the direction of keeping my options open. I remember my dad saying, “There’s a reason they’re called ‘starving artists.’”

Knowing all of this, I used to say that I sort of fell into writing, but in 2016, I found a “time capsule” that I made as part of a seventh grade history project. We’d been instructed not to open it for 20 years, and I followed the rules. It stayed in a drawer in the nightstand of my childhood bedroom in New Jersey, presumably untouched. By this point, I was living in Los Angeles and writing for The New York Times on a regular basis; I was visiting my mom for a few days.

Anyway — I opened the capsule (a manilla envelope). Inside was a letter to my future self that I’d written when I was 13. It said, in part, “I’d hope to be in the profession of writing by the time I read this. I’d like to be a writer or a reporter for the New York Times Magazine or newspaper. It’s a creative enough job, and the New York Times is a world famous newspaper. I wonder how much it pays, though.”

LOL! Young Sheila was prescient. I grew up in a house that subscribed to The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, The Economist, The Nation … the list goes on. Reading was and remains the chief Marikar family pastime. I’ve devoured novels for as long as I can remember, but it was only around the time that I opened the time capsule that I started seriously considering writing one of my own. I relish journalism, but I wanted to put something into the world that I could call My Own, that would outlast the news cycle.

To answer your question more practically: I yearned to work in magazines but could not get anyone to respond to my many job applications; I got hired by ABC News as a desk assistant at their New York headquarters and started working there, on the overnight shift, five days after graduating from college. I spent seven years at ABC News and served as the digital entertainment reporter and editor before breaking off on my own in 2013 with a quarter of COBRA coverage and a dream of getting a byline in the New York Times.

KD: How has your work as a journalist writing feature articles about food, wine, wellness, and popular destinations for the New York Times, the New Yorker, Vogue, and other leading publications for the past decade helped prepare you for writing fiction?

SYM: My work as a journalist has given me more access and inspiration than I know what to do with. I’ve met some truly wild, passionate, brilliant, and — okay, I’ll say it — villainous people while reporting, at this point, thousands of articles. Everyone I encounter has a place in my mental filing cabinet. It may not be organized, but it’s robust.

KD: What were the seeds of inspiration behind FRIENDS IN NAPA? What's the premise?

SYM: A few years ago, my husband was really into a series of thrillers set in Napa, and that got me wondering whether I could write something similar, but with my own spin. Cut to January 2022, when my editor and agent were hungry for a new idea. I initially imagined a girls’ trip to wine country gone wrong — kind of like the movie Wine Country, with Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, but with a dark, vaguely sci-fi turn. That got workshopped into FRIENDS IN NAPA, which I like to think of as The White Lotus meets Friends From College, the Netflix series.

KD: You've talked a bit in your Substack, Your Friend on the Ground, about the process of working with Mindy Kaling's imprint to bring this book to life. What stands out most about that experience?

SYM: The overwhelming (in a good way) level of support I’m getting on the marketing and promotion front. It’s wild to be scrolling Instagram and get served with ads for a book you wrote. Mindy’s endorsement means the world — the Reel she recorded about FRIENDS IN NAPA: chef’s kiss. I’m honored to be in her tribe.

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KD: How was the process for writing your debut, THE GODDESS EFFECT, different from FRIENDS IN NAPA? In what ways was it similar?

SYM: The process of writing THE GODDESS EFFECT dragged out over seven years, much of which involved avoiding actually sitting down and writing. I thought I could finagle a way to get paid to write a draft which, nope! I couldn’t! Once I came around to accepting that I had to carve out the hours and get it done, I finished a draft in three months, give or take. The selling of that draft — that was a whole other animal. It took three years for me to figure out that I wasn’t working with the right agent. So it goes. Like Alanis said, you live, you learn.

With FRIENDS IN NAPA, I had my agent and editor cheering me on, and nothing made me get words on the page like an eager audience and a deadline. The first draft took about two months, and the revision process was a lot more collaborative than that of THE GODDESS EFFECT.

What was similar: ricocheting between two extremes of the writing process — “I’m a Genius This Is So Good Everyone’s Going to Love It” and “WTF Am I Doing I Don’t Know How to Write How Did I Get Myself in This Mess.” One day, you’re on top of the world, the next, you’re questioning all your life decisions, and you never know when the switch is going to flip. The dangerous part is getting on a roll or in a funk and thinking things will never change. They will.

KD: What does it look like to balance your freelance journalism work with your fiction writing?

SYM: Thus far, I’ve found that I’ve got maybe four good hours of fiction in me per day. I’m a better writer when I can switch to an article afterward. No workday is typical, but if I’m “on my grind” and working on a fiction project, I’ll get a chunk of that out of the way before diving into email/admin/anything journalism-related.

KD: Tell us about the most recent work of fiction that left you with a book hangover.

SYM: Assuming a book hangover is a good thing, YELLOWFACE by R.F. Kuang. Those inside baseball publishing industry send ups slay me. And the way it ends! What a ride.

KD: What book is on your TBR pile that you're most excited to pick up?

Kevin Kwan’s LIES & WEDDINGS. The CRAZY RICH ASIANS series was a major inspiration for THE GODDESS EFFECT and my approach to fiction in general. I’ve also interviewed Kevin a few times and am lucky to call him a friend. I can’t wait to see what characters he’s cooked up this time.

KD: The Sunday Series was conceptualized as a love letter to my favorite day of the week. If we were with you in your neighborhood on Sunday, where would you take us to spend the afternoon?

SYM: We’d go for a walk around the Silverlake Reservoir and stop at the fruit vendor by the dog park. You pick what you want from his cart — my favorite combination is mango, cucumber, and cantaloupe. He slices it in front of you, dresses it with Tajin and/or Chamoy, if you’re keen (I like Tajin) and packs it into a container that’s easy to graze from while you’re walking. It’s delightfully refreshing.

KD: Where can readers order FRIENDS IN NAPA?

SYM: Amazon, your favorite independent bookstore, or wherever books are sold!

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