Here and There

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I am writing this entry in the exact location I wrote my first post 72 days ago- home. The jet lag has subsided, and I have very quickly found myself deep in life here, mostly due to circumstance. So seamlessly did I slide back into life on this side of the pond that India became a memory before I changed my watch back to Eastern Standard Time.
And although I have great, fond, fulfilling memories of this trip- many I've shared in these pages, others I'm looking forward to when I can share this trip in person- the recall feels tamed relative to the experience. From where I presently sit, I feel more like a reader than the writer. India is not a place you can read about to understand. I hope my words have entertained and provided narrow slices into the world I saw. I hope my photographs depicted accurately the places, faces, and spaces I encountered. I hope this was an avenue to feel connected to this adventure- I undoubtedly felt more connected to home because of these pages. India, though, has to be experienced by every sense just to begin to truly appreciate it. To smell burning incense from makeshift shrines along popular roads, or the oppressive, fetid odor rising from the waters of the Ganges. To hear the cacophony of voices at a Mumbai market deep into the night, or the chai sellers hawking their popular beverage up and down the train corridors in between stations. To taste fermented millet wine through a bamboo straw or sticky sweet red paan, spat out in fierce liquid streams by every rickshaw driver on the crowded streets. To feel the grinding heat or the closure of personal space the minute you step out of the airport. To see with your own eyes elderly sleeping on streets, thousands of students flocking to school each morning in a mass migration of hope, the splendor of the Golden Temple and the grandeur of the Taj Majal.

Experiencing India is watching a movie at the cinema with your nose against the screen (thanks Salman Rushdie!). Visible are the flashing pixels, but it is impossible to capture the entire picture. To see the screen at all, though, remains a privilege, and I feel extremely lucky to have been afforded this opportunity. I return home thankful to the many friends and families that have been gracious hosts and wonderful representatives of their country. As I alluded to previously, Indians have a sense of warmth we generally reserve for our closest family. In a land where an average of 344 people live within every square mile (compared to our modest 28) perhaps there is no other option but to extend stronger kindness to strangers.

So, that's India, in a betel nutshell. Thanks again for following this journal, I loved writing it. Namaste.

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Photos

His message
In the city of Amedabad, where Ghandi lived for seventeen years

So you think you can dance?
Priya's dance show (my host). As a pretty good boogier myself, I could really appreciate the difficulty of the piece...

Golden Temple
In the city of Amritsar, the Golden Temple serves as a mecca for Sikhs, where devouts and travelers alike are invited to eat and sleep for free, custom practices in their religion

Fast food
Volunteers fly through the long aisles with paint buckets full of food, slopping it onto plates, people, and the floor.

My last night
From the sanctity of the Golden Temple, I was on an overnight bus back to Delhi, one last day with the warm family that greeted me at the airport upon my original arrival, and onto a Newark bound plane last night. This shot was my last true Indian moment before my mind sped and drifted home ahead of my body.