I believe my friend said it best: "India is an assault on your senses". Your vision is taken with bright colors and bright sunlight, your nose consumed by offensive odours of defecation and enticing odours of spices and flowers, your lungs infiltrated with dirt and dust, your taste buds pillaged by hot and spicy flavours, your feelings lost in empathy and disgust and most of all, your ears are attacked by horns, bells, hammering and yelling. I get why people say Delhi is a little bit like New York. A little bit.
The contradictions bare themselves openly here. While is socially unacceptable for men and women to hold hands, the Kajaraho temples are covered in depictions I have not yet seen in the raciest German magazines. Though it may be considered one of the most unhygenic places on Earth, no one is interested in using silverware. Animals are worshiped and neglected (or exploited). The most stunning Islamic architecture rises out of absolute rubble and tent towns full of Hindus. Everyone wants to be your friend but few really trust you. I was stared at openly like an unbelievable museum piece, and yet the following still occurred: A man who had never seen me before of obvious low stature and little English was counting his money behind me, and I put out my hand and asked, "Oh, is that for me? Thank you!" And without missing a beat, he replied, "Yes, it's for you, here," and handed me his money without batting an eyelid. He was so attuned to my wave-length, so in on my personal joke, that he trusted completely the handing over his money to me, a complete stranger. I resisted the urge to take the money and run, just to see what he would do.
Of course, touring as part of Raph's dance company, I had my fair share of cultural performances, temple visits and crazy Western "I-will-never-find-these-prices-anywhere-else" shopping sprees. I did not experience an overhelmence from poverty and begging that perhaps I had been over prepared for.
