India, a land of unrivaled mosaic.

When I set foot on Indian soil, in spite of the plethora of emotions that engulf me, my equilibrium shifts. The chaos, which is unexplainable, steers me from overthinking. It assists me (there is no other option) in navigating through the contrasts and contradictions of India—people clamouring for shared transportation, expensive chauffeur driven cars, poor pavement dwellers, mushrooming luxury hotels, rather short stretches of quiet, blaring music from teashops—each jostling for a spot. These elements feel at once alarmingly natural as they do disturbingly strange. India is a land of contrasts, where old systems juxtapose with the new growth, and where old traditions collide with contemporary thoughts. India carries not only the weight of its past but constantly wrestles with growing issues and population. And somehow in the craziness of it all, life works out, almost.

A piping hot cup of coffee is the order of the moment—to combat my jet lag or so I would like to believe, knowing very well that it does nothing more than satiate my taste buds while serving as a reminder of being home. So what is this home? Is it a building, social class, friends, or perhaps impressive things? This thinking would be restrictive. Home, to me, is in the layered complexities of life; I can’t segregate them. I find this home in the drifting fragrance of frangipani, quiet moments that speak for themselves, fishing boats at dawn, speeding fuming trucks, calls of fruit vendors, and even the annoying honking. This home resides in unarmored conversations and genuine hospitality. The graciousness and magnetic courage of the poor (one that resonates with me) are home as much as the dignity of the few educated who live minus flashiness. To put it in a nutshell, I find home in the abundance of India’s land and its people. Here abundance is not just a ‘cool’ borrowed word; it is an integral part of life.

The morning dawns with abundance—a mélange of rambunctious creatures—vibrant parrots, glossy crows, glorious woodpeckers, and greige pigeons. They chirp and sing, gliding on different levels, reminding me of the sight a few hours prior—planes landing and taking off at Heathrow! Not to be outdone, cheeky shrill squirrels dart, putting on quite the display around fuchsia bougainvillea. Where on the one hand, the uplifting orchestra of cawing, humming, and screeching, appears to have a master conductor like Zubin Mehta, on the other, the plethora of crude, annoying horns can only be orchestrated by man who disregards the environment. And if this is not enough, the police yell consistently on the loudspeaker only to be instantly drowned by the horn of a speeding train, which is efficiently interjected by jackhammers. This kaleidoscope of life is India.

So how do you capture India? Well, you don’t. India is an experience, and experiences don’t come with safe formulas; they can’t be captured in vintage vials. The best way to experience India is through openness and sincerity, and equal parts of courage and gratitude. Not that it guarantees a smooth ride—India can be incredibly challenging and horribly frustrating, teaching you lessons on navigating through the terrains of life. As you discover varied elements—the colourful vendors, the pit-a-patter of the rain as it swells the earth, and the deft darting bicyclists on rickety bikes, brace yourself for passive aggressiveness, indecisiveness, harassment, and the herd mentality that rides just as smoothly as overstepping boundaries, unnecessary touching, and entitled inquisitiveness. These destructive behaviors are not social class defined—they are all pervasive, no different from the smog and soot you will encounter, but once you learn to recognize the gunk, you can wade through it (perhaps use a “mental” electric mosquito swatter). The best way to shut down ugliness is to address it directly—politeness and respect are (conveniently) perceived as signs to exploit you further.

You will hear a great deal about the caste system, even from the “foreign returned-educated types.” In my opinion, this “forced” caste system helps suppress humanity. I find it in parts repulsive and comical when one changes their accent, refers to specific activities, or “stylishly” probes: “If you don’t mind, what is your caste?” I wonder why they are committed to being impoverished and backward—a man of ethics and morality will never stoop to the level of suppressing others while claiming their identity through caste and class structures.

In spite of this negativity, I encourage you to brave yourself and take the plunge, travel to India and surrender to its pulse.

To experience India’s heartbeat, you need to feel it. And let’s be honest, you can’t feel anything special in studied formulaic hospitality of luxury hotels—they can offer you only so much of the same; here boredom quickly curdles in the coldness. Step out to be thawed by the warmth of the common man, or better yet, get off the grid, away from city dwellers—indulge in an adventure—travel by train through India. The mysterious alchemy of rural landscapes can instantly make you feel you belong. Train journeys, not entirely comfortable (or hygienic), transport you through largely undeveloped villages. You will discover landscapes that exude unparalleled charm bathed in hazy sunshine, perhaps you will savour several meals under dappled light or/and relish the splendor of the setting pink sun.

It is likely you will come across painting-like embroideries, jewelry, and stonework, to name a few. These detailed architectural works of splendor are created from the imagination of the artisans who live nondescript lives—their sensitivity pours from their souls to their hands. After all, creativity blossoms from vulnerability and unpretentiousness. And as expected, the educated, lacking a moral conscience (which is an apt accompaniment to their parched creative puddles) hijack the indigenous designs of the esthetically educated and pass it off as their own. How else can they float in a bubble pretending they are superior or smarter than the poor, simple, and talented? We can’t justify our lack of creativity by crediting others, so we will steal and suppress! And then there is that particular breed of foreigners—equally lacking in ethics—who arrive for their share of the pie, pretending to “rescue artisans,” only to milk generous springs and feed their growing meagerness.

I have heard umpteen foreigners comment on India’s hospitality: “I was blown away by the generosity of strangers. We were taken care of so well. They went out of their way to help us and never charged us a dime.” Sadly this spirit of abundance didn’t transfer onto them—they took (and grabbed), but left with meagerness of the soul. For those of you who fall into this category, I hope you will give yourself permission to imbibe these very qualities of richness and generosity of spirit, rid of your emotional poverty once and for all. What is the point of travel if the richness and generosity you experience fail to complement your future actions? By shifting gears from exploiting—to feed your emptiness—you can learn from people who have less, yet are wealthy. The wholesome tapestries you will experience as you travel through India come from the common man. Learning magnanimity from their genuine actions can help you resurrect your outlook to life.

The defining images you see here are integral to my homeland, India. But their poverty is either glamourized (and there is nothing cool about hunger, neglect, and violence) or/and they are conveniently photoshopped out of the landscape to make India appear more appealing. By continuously editing them out, is to deny their existence, while consistently abusing humanity—a shared destination called the world. Please don’t look down at them or treat them with pity—reserve your pity (and disgust) for the morally corrupt who ensure the sun doesn’t rise in the land of the poor.

By interacting with the poor, whose inner spirit is unfailing, you will come to appreciate that colour and creativity is not a show for them, the way it is in the educated class—where one dresses and lives (why even bathes and grooms) to step out of their homes, to project an image. The common man lives with richness and originality, just as much as he does with humility and sensitivity, painting the authentic canvas called India.

Each experience offers an education (free of cost). On your part, I request a tad bit of preparation. For example, as you skim through India’s geography, take a moment to understand its proximity to the equator. You will learn how closeness to the equator (the south of India is closer to the equator than the north of India) not only makes the heat unbearable, the direct sun produces melanin pigment to protect the layers beneath, affecting the skin colour, which ranges from cocoa to cinnamon and golden. Once we educate ourselves on the multitude of dimensions of life, we can travel with greater respect.

Your expanding education will serve a deeper purpose. For instance, each time you come across “exotic India” sold in the form of a captured bird in a cage touted to read your horoscope, a decorated elephant trained to give you its blessing, or a monkey dancing for entertainment, realize that it is neither compassionate or spiritual. This is abuse at its very core and corrosive to life spirit. Animals, irrespective of size, deserve to live in their natural habitat, not broken down and exploited for human apathy. Gandhiji said: “The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged the way its animals are treated.” So please refuse to propagate the abuse of animals; we need your mind, heart, and voice.

If you aspire for your perfect anecdote of India to be one of “bragging rights”—of waxing rehearsed eloquence—of lavish fortresses, exotic women, and the “centuries-old embroidery” on designer garb amongst other concoctions—my version of India might not be your cup of tea. When you boil down the essence of an expansive, ancient civilization like India to elephants, palaces, Bollywood, and curry, it is an insult to the country. The canvas you refer to is an inaccurate reflection of India; it is a reflection of a narrow and shallow mindset, incapable of expansive thinking and feeling. To experience the diversity that differs from region to region, I suggest you switch out your hearts lens to panorama.

Once you do, you will let go of the starched itinerary—the acclimatization program, and the comical ‘beware of’ list—a sterilized kit that is supposed to prepare you for India. It is only with emotional freeness and humility that you can experience the ingenious spirit of the people and abundance of the land, which is a direct reflection of the patina of India imbued with millions of emotions, textures, and experiences—a patina that has developed over centuries.

I wish you arrive in India with reflections, embark on long odysseys and depart reflecting on the patina of the greatest land on earth—India. And for those who are blessed with abundance and compassion, I welcome you to travel with the finest of your emotional paintbrushes’—to paint your richness on to the canvas of India, making India’s patina a richer one.

Heera