I wish I could tell you.
I wish I could tell you what this is like.
I wish I could share the sounds, the smells, the sights, the tastes, the feel of my experiences. It is so foreign to me I don’t yet have the words to describe it all. My current vocabulary can only go so far as to say “loud, bright, spicy… different”. However, that is so incomplete, so lacking that it verges on just wrong.
I want to describe the feel of the broken pavement beneath my feet, the mixed cacophony of birds, dogs, horns, and people, all a symphony on their own. The way countless languages yelled over traffic into cell phones can drown out your thoughts until you wish you could only understand what was going on around you. The rush of adrenaline before that inevitable leap of faith known as: crossing Hosur Road.
How it feels to know I do anything but blend in, when all I want to do is mix into the diversity of my surroundings until I am another small, indefinable thread in the tapestry of India.
I am foreign and strange in a land steeped in story and myth and history. It is as though I am walking atop the infinite layers of history, personal and collective, that make up India. Every step I take has been taken countless times before on countless journeys in countless people’s lives.
I began with silent wonder and am now the babbling brook of questions. I feel like a child, pointing to everything I see wanting to ask, “what’s this? what is it called? what does it do? why?… why?”
To summarize the development of my thoughts:
Day 1: ….wow.
Day 2: …India.
Day 3: I am in India.
Day 4: India.
Day 5: India is…..
Day 6: India is….. Many things.
Day 7: India is….. So many things.
By the end of my time here, I would like to be able to elucidate more, but I have a feeling I will come away with much more knowledge of myself, than of India.
In a land so ancient, and yet so modern, I can not help but be the pupil to its mastery.