Saying Goodbye to India

As my two years in India is comes to an end, I have been thinking a lot about what makes this country so special. India isn’t just the Taj Mahal or Mumbai, Goa or Kerala.  It isn’t Gully Boy or SlumDog Millionaire. Hundreds, if not thousands, of travel bloggers have already tried to put this into words. They mention the people, the history, the spirituality…….but, I think it is not just one of those things.  It is all of things combined and what makes it so difficult to describe is that there is always something lingering here that you can’t quite put your finger on.  

India is a country that you either love or hate. Very few people feel ambivalent to it and most people who have spent considerable time there have loved it. When I am feeling really melodramatic, I sometimes think we love it so much because India is a representation of so many of us.    The country is a mess with lots of scars from the past and many internal turmoils. She gets broken and then puts herself back together.  Like so many of the women and men that I know and admire, she moves forward each day with a sense of industriousness and joy of life that you don’t often see in other parts of the world. 

Rather than continue to try and give some overarching explanation as to what makes India India and what I think many other travel bloggers fail at, I have decided to look back on two years as a period with many tiny stories that create a sum that is greater than its parts.  

India is…..

• Gupta’s Restaurant in Delhi where they always remember me and know exactly what I will order (paneer butter masala & garlic naan)
• “Grandma and Grandpa Sikh” in Sanjay Colony, Delhi who lovingly take care of Henry (my favorite stray dog in India)
• My amazing team in Delhi who made me feel like I was part of the family
• Our 3-story office that reminded me of a big rambling farm house where someone else as ALWAYs doing something funny
• Goofy, the stray dog who lives at the metro station and has only 3 teeth.  He gets excited and tries to “talk” to you
• The old turbaned Sikh men in their button down shirts and sweater vests who stand up straight and tall
• The children who run up to you to shake your hand even if you see them every single day
• The neighborhood fresh-squeezed juice sellers who remember that I don’t like salt in my juice because it tastes like you are licking an armpit
• The young people who have limited options but face every day with enthusiasm
• The local shop-keeper who always called me sir. He tried to play it off one day and say that in India they call everyone sir…….
• The taxi drivers who would ask me if I am married and then laugh when I would say “Marriage…..yuck……”
• The ridiculously fat stray dogs who would lay in the middle of intersections, in front of shops, on busy sidewalks……basically, anywhere they damn well-pleased and then look at you with a sense of shock when they had to move
• Watching a dog catapult a small child off of her tricyle in Lodhi Gardens in Delhi.  Her parents snatched her out of the bushes that caught her, dried her tears and plopped her back down like nothing had happened
• The men at the gym who were desperately out of shape but would make a big show of lifting weights and jogging on the treadmill. There was so much grunting sometimes that I felt like I was witnessing an orgy
• The men who requested selfies with me WHILE we were running the Mumbai half-marathon
• The people who would randomly offer you their food if you looked at it for more than a few seconds
• My team in Delhi who bought me coffee, a travel mug and a reusable bag as a going away present because they wanted to make sure to get me something that I could use.
• The security guard at my friend’s apartment who would feed the stray dogs biscuits
• My old security guard who would get drunk on the roof and dance to Punjabi music right above my bedroom
• The old Sikh man and my “date” in Delhi who decided to have a dance-off at a bar.  My date claimed to be a Latin dancer and the old man still beat him hands down
• Sagar, a team member in Delhi, who excitedly told me that there were “baby dogs” in our office.  I went downstairs and found puppies rolling around on the ground
• The girls on my Delhi team who would routinely ask me if I had eaten lunch – even once I had moved to Mumbai
• The men and women who would routinely stop me in the streets in Delhi to tell me that I “have good height”

These are just some of my many, many experiences that have created a version of Delhi that few tourists actually experience.  Before I moved to Delhi, I reached out to a number of expat women who had lived there and asked them what their experiences were.  Every single one of them said that the good outweighs the bad. I left only a few days ago and the “bad” memories of the smells, the pollution and the safety concerns are all but gone and an acute sense of loss is already setting in.

India is a place that is very much sink or swim.  Streets are broken, poverty surrounds you, men stare at you and women judge you. However, if you “swim”, you will soon find out that India is something that becomes part of you.   Without you realizing it, India starts to sneak its way into your body and mind and you begin to change. I became more patient, happier, and easy-going. I began to see the funny-side of things happening around me.  I laughed harder than I ever have before and have even found myself proudly showing photos of my team, “my” dogs and Mughal architecture to anyone who even shows a tiny bit of interest.  Two years in India has made me a better person and I am so incredibly grateful that I had the chance to live and work there. While it is goodbye for now, I know it won’t be goodbye forever. Until next time…….