Pitstop in Delhi

The capital of India. 20 million residents. Second most populous city in the world. Financial megacity...no facts could sufficiently prepare me for the Delhi I was going to experience. I had seen the street vendors push their products to passersby before. Had heard the resilient horns as rickshaw drivers swerved through impossible gaps. Felt the system of waiting in queues fall to ruins as dozens brushed by me to the cashiers. But in Delhi, every sense was heightened, every moment amplified. The vendors more aggressive, the drivers more daring, and every feeling more pronounced. In Delhi, it seemed like everything was more.

Masterfully ornate clouds cleared way for our descent as the pilot casually announced an expected forecast of 46 degrees Celsius over the intercom, that's 115 Fahrenheit, and welcomed us to the City of Rallies.

The flight landed at 9:48 a.m., and I was greeted by a sign bearing my name and a man named Kapul. Almost immediately after leaving the airport, I was overwhelmed by a layer of sweat. The heat beat down in dense waves, unbelievably powerful. I found my pace quickening towards the parking deck, what seemed to be an escape from the invisible heat. Kapul keyed unlock, and the lights of a white Suzuki responded with two quick blinks. I felt betrayed by the parking deck; instead of shade it only trapped the steaming air inside. I hastened my step until finally I reached the passenger seat door. Victoriously, I dropped my bags and threw it open, only to look back and see Kapul smiling, to look forward and see a steering wheel. "You wish to drive, sir?" I smiled and shook my head, mostly at myself, grabbed my bags and went around to the other side of the car. As if the hot air wasn't enough, reality decided to slap me in the face: this wasn't America anymore.

When he isn't giving tours of Amritsar and the Taj Mahal, Kapul is a driver for International Volunteers HQ. He had just driven 16 straight hours from his home in Bihar to bring me to Ananta Kumar, IVHQ's program coordinator in Delhi. On our 40-minute car ride to Ananta's flat, I heard the broken English summary of everything Delhi. His commentary traced footprints in the trailing dust of the sights that lay before me: huge, sprawling, elevated metros meandering alongside us at every turn; throngs of people from every social, economic, and cultural background; cattle, dogs, goats, and horses calmly ambling along on the busy streets; high rise skyscrapers and men in suits backdropping disintegrating, makeshift homes and beggars. From my comfortable viewpoint in the air conditioned Suzuki the dichotomy was even clearer. I peered out in sheer amazement at the activity and the color that surrounded me.

A day and a half more of exploring the city and my first impressions of love and fascination only deepened.

Highlights from Delhi...Met Ananta and two other future friends at his house, Bruna from Spain and Simon from Australia. Together, the three of us got lost in the vibrant madness of the metropolis and took their first ever rickshaw ride back to the apartment...Hopped a fence with Simon to play futbol on empty school grounds, later chased off by security...Given the grandest tour of the city and its cullinary hotspots by my mother's college friend Roy Uncle and his son Cherian...Ate authentic North Indian food at Punjabi by Nature...Ironically, treated to my first ever true American meal at the Hard Rock Cafe in Cyberhub...Had a simple meal of rice and dahl (foreshadowing)....slept like a rock.

I'm on a bus to Dharamsala. We started at 7:00 p.m and the ETA is a full 12 hours later. Dinner is at a bustling outdoor eatery, and then onwards. The bumpy roads combined with the surreal views to my left and right render sleep on this journey impossible. We make our way north through Haryana, Punjab, and Himachal Pradesh. But my eyes are set elsewhere, on a beautiful little village settlement in the foothills of the Himalayas. Namaste.