I just spent a month in India, a place that for many years, had not even made it onto my map of places to visit. I had given it some consideration, but didn't think I could handle the sensory overload and wasn't excited by its extreme weather. To ice the cake, getting to India from Boston typically involves a thirty-or-so-hour trip, and my vacations are normally only ten days long. So even when I began to think more about visiting India, I was still forced to the conclusion that for the time-being, it was too difficult a destination.
When
I decided to take this year off, I told myself I would go to many of
the places that have been impossible to get to during a normal school
year. India is said to be wonderful in November and December. At
worst, if you get as far down as Kerala, you hit the tail end of the
monsoon season, but the rain is quite a relief from the stifling
humidity. I arrived in the second half of October, hoping to be ready
for anything.
India brought so many positive experiences that trying to describe just one or two seems unfair. What an remarkably colorful country! Everywhere you turn there are deep, wrinkled faces framed by a shocking array of brightly colored sarees. Children with curious, expectant eyes stare back at you, sometimes beaming excitement.
Somehow, in India, everything seems mystical...and the color white seems surprisingly white. Incense burns, hands come together in prayer and faith permeates the air. Coconuts are put forth as offerings with flowers and bits of rice. If you sit quietly, you can hear the murmurs of believers, praying to their gods, and the afternoon chants across the lake.
Every
meal felt like Christmas (said the Jew), excitement bursting from
every anxious taste bud in my mouth. What would be on the menu today?
I tried everything I could think of and relished being in an
environment so friendly to those who prefer vegetables. What a luxury
not to have to be concerned about finding red meat in my dish! Mutter
paneer, tikka masala, palak, tandoori chicken, I was in food heaven.
Are you going to have bread with your meal? Would you prefer nan,
paratha, chapathi, roti or kulcha? With cheese and garlic? Perhaps
mint? I got used to eating spicy foods, which I never believed I
could. And what was my prize? Cucumber raitha to sooth my mouth and
a mango lassi to wash it all down. Outside of Delhi, well-known for
their cuisine, Keralite cooking stood out the most. Their use of
coconut oil made meals rich and scrumptious, each bite worth savoring
for a long time before swallowing. I've never looked so forward to
meals every day. 
If
you are accustomed to floating through places you visit unnoticed,
rest assured, India knows you are there. I was admittedly caught
off-guard by men who pulled over their vehicle to ask if we could
take a picture together, and by families who would stop me and
request that I stand next to them for a photo. I suppose many
visitors find this to be a nuisance, or at the very least,
uncomfortable. Naturally, it feels awkward to pose with a stranger
and wonder what s/he is going to do with that 1-2-3 “Cheese”
moment. But if that's all it takes to make someone happy, isn't it
worth sacrificing your comfort for a moment? Goodness knows how many
strangers across the world have obliged my request for a photo.
The
Indian population, as a whole, strikes me as incredibly eager to
please, and we, as visitors, should recognize and return this
kindness. They are a remarkably hospitable people, and it is with
great patience and acceptance that visitors must approach this
baffling mass of a subcontinent. If we are to focus only on the poverty-stricken piece of its identity and all the ensuing chaos that results, we
completely miss all the wonder that bubbles on India's surface and
deep within its belly.
Valuable
lessons were learned in India. My favorite – I love discovering I'm
wrong. It is inexpressibly
rewarding to suddenly discover that something you thought or believed
is not quite that. To realize I'm wrong and to allow myself to accept
it means a moment of conscious growth of the brain and soul – a
possibility to expand my own horizons. So I would like to apologize
to India for not giving her a chance sooner than I did. I was a bit
of a coward. But I know now, and I'm prepared to spread the word.
