India is famously hard on travellers. So before my first trip, I had more than my share of fears. I arrived in Delhi on December 6, 2005, having no idea what the next six months would hold. My transformation began almost immediately, when I visited the Qutab Minar at twilight and watched the sky turn pink, imbuing the monuments with an other-worldly glow. There is magic here, I thought, and a long-lost sense of wonder began to resurface. At the aarti in Rishikesh, I dove into the melee and lit an offering, which I gently pushed into the black currents of the mother river of India. The time-honoured ritual made me feel part of something much bigger, a complex, intricate movement of the spheres that made everything. As I travelled throughout the subcontinent, I saw and experienced many moments of beauty. I was uplifted by the clear air and soaring Himalayan peaks in Himachal Pradesh; inspired by the stories of heroism and the stark beauty of the desert in Rajasthan; and healed by the gentle people and tropical warmth of Kerala. By the time I got to Kanyakumari, where I watched the sun rise and tried to make out the meeting of the three oceans, I was a goner. The uncanny and almost immediate affinity I felt for India had blossomed into a full-fledged, life-changing love affair. India is crowed and chaotic, hot and dusty, and it will break your heart at every street corner. But it is the soul of the world, and when you allow India in, she may never leave. Not a day goes by when I do not feel the dust of India within me, JAI HIND
Posted on: Thu, 15 Aug 2013 15:59:40 +0000
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