Photo Credit: Little Black Book Delhi
A lot of people see India as the third world, a developing country of a billion people. They see it as noisy, colorful, diverse, loud, chaotic, unsafe, dirty. It is all those things. But to me, it is much more.
It's a place of refuge. It's where everybody knows my name (old school 80s sitcom reference anyone?). It's the informality of a joined struggle, where every stranger is addressed in the familiar "brother"(bhai) or "sister" (behen) or "uncle" and "aunty" (if you're too old to be bhai or behen). Pretentions exist, more so in the capital and my home, New Delhi, but are laughed at. Sarcasm is understood. Culture is respected. Everything is familiar and strange at once.
Delhi is home. And I miss it.
In the chaos of this world, India is the one thing that makes complete sense to me in its confusion.
