DELHI. For real

Little did I realise what the next six weeks would bring to me, not just in terms of travel, but an all-round life experience. India is called home to over a billion people, and many more thousands of Indians abroad would ideally still like to call it so. Getting away from the monotonous lifestyle of Melbourne and the everyday boredom I found within my everyday life was my initial motivation for embarking on this adventure, a chance to prove that I can travel amongst the best of them and not cry for Mummy once.

It was approximately 2am and before I exited the aircraft, a mild-mannered gentleman tells me excitedly that we are lucky. “It’s the cooler time of year, so you picked a great time to travel through Northern India.” Stepping onto the tarmac of Delhi International Airport however proved to be anything but cool. I was met immediately with a swirling hot wind and humidity that made me want to strip into my underwear and race to the baggage carousels.

Exiting Delhi International Airport, my stubbornness was already starting to cave, but I knew what I had gotten myself into, and there was no way on Earth I was going to complain about it all. “Are you sure son? I can organise hotel transfers in Delhi for you.” My Father’s diligent travel agents voice ringing through my head as a plethora of families were met with personalised vans and signs directing them toward their vehicle, taking them to the comforts of their hotel rooms. Feeling as though my triumph gave in, I wanted to call my Father and tell him about my predicament, but I soldiered toward what I likened more to a domestic warzone as oppose to a taxi stand.

Fighting for every rupee and hustling for every customer was the way of life in India, and unlike the bureaucratic modernity of the west, there was no rules, no queues and most importantly no exceptions. Even though Indian people probably saw me as a naïve 21-year-old tourist, little did they realise about how much this was of no concern to me. My deep, driving desire to immerse myself in the way of India remained at the forefront of my mind. I came here with many voices in my head, friends questioning why I would want to explore the confines of a country swept with pollution and crowds, and family forever concerned about my safety. But people must realise that I was not seeking one’s typical ‘holiday,’ filled with man-made tourist sights, golden beaches and 5-star resorts.

After spending some time in Delhi, visiting the predominantly Islamic oriented streets of Old Delhi and being overwhelmed by the Red Fort, I immediately realised the impact of this trip. Travelling throughout India not only gives you an appreciation for the life you live, but it provided me with a culture shock that I have never witnessed before. Delhi is a city like no other, it is everything you read about, but no matter what you hear from people or read about, nothing can compare to actually seeing it in living colour. The everyday hustle for people of Delhi trying to make that extra rupee, the chaos of everyday traffic and people constantly in your face, one would automatically think that personal downtime would have to be paid for.
Scything through traffic, horns blazing and total disregard for general road rules are all commonplace in the city streets of Delhi, but to say that I didn’t fall in love with this pandemonium would be a lie. Playing chicken with busses and 3-wheelers merely in an attempt to cross a road as well as trying to source authentic meals without being duped by shopkeepers purely for being a tourist are all experiences that I wouldn’t trade for the world. At first I felt out of place and generally useless. It is a disconcerting feeling as an individual away from home, feeling helpless to my own cause, struggling to find a place to stay. But adaptation is the first step in travelling, adapting to one’s surroundings and having that initial epiphany that you are in fact on someone else’s home ground. With this stark realisation, all these daily occurrences with shopkeepers and roads began to feel like an everyday theme.

The wonder of Delhi is more than breath taking; it’s a city that provided a moment in life where I genuinely grew up. Amidst the beauty of Delhi, the largest metropolis in India, I was constantly awash with emotion. Various corners were home to beggars and homeless families that struggled to form something of a life not just for their children, but them as well. Living in Australia these are things we are not accustomed to witnessing, so you can imagine the shock once you see this, but this is India. With that in mind, besieged with mixed emotions, the happiness in their eyes is highly noticeable. This could be my naivety, but they seem genuinely happy at the sight of people like me, now whether this is because of their perception of the size of my wallet is unbeknownst to me, but it was my goal to interact with these people, the real India.

Many travellers go to India wanting to conquer their ferociously busy nature, however from experience, I have encountered many who fail miserably at this and fall into that trap of experiencing India at a tourist’s level. No disrespect to people who visit India under such pretence, but this is not what I came for. Pacing the streets and alleyways of Delhi at my own leisurely pace, I won’t lie, it was not easy to achieve my goal and I think I will forever question whether I achieved my goal. I guess this is why I am headed back there at years end. I was yelled at by Heroin addicts for impeding their ‘downtime,’ I interacted with kids wondering whether their parents thought I was some raging paedophile and the mere sight of my camera immediately made locals shudder at the thought of what my intentions were.

By Delhi standards, I woke to a rather cooler temperature, as per normal the daily chaos around my guesthouse was loud, and in your face, but something else caught my eye in a nearby park. It was cool in temperature, but the sun was shining over Delhi’s eastern district, it was a Saturday morning and little did I know how this day would shape the rest of my trip, and in some ways, my life.

The real Delhi, where the begging on Connaught place brought tears to my eyes, the smiles on children’s faces whilst I taught them how to perfect their cover-drive was uplifting. Never have I met children so appreciative of information, beaming away with pride at correcting their skills, all wanting to replicate their idol, Sachin Tendulkar. Cricket is more than a sport to Indian boys, the adoration they pour on their sporting heroes, one could be forgiven for thinking cricket is another religion over there. My travels and interaction with these Delhi children will never be forgotten, waking up early for days, teaching them the finer points of the game, and their appreciation at an Australian teaching them cricket is priceless. Before leaving Delhi, I had attached myself to this group of kids. Dhruv with his lanky frame, bowling each delivery on the harsh concrete like his life depended on it. Rahul and his bucktooth smile, displayed diligence and patience that I had never witnessed in Children back home, on and off the cricket field. Finally, Little ‘Mo’ became my best friend in Delhi. So much so, he invited me to dine with his family just before I left, a mere thank you for the interaction we had over the course of two weeks. Being able to run around the streets without a care in the world was made possible because of this interaction. Some afternoons after the school bells would sound, Little ‘Mo’ and the ‘Delhi kids’ would crowd around, fighting over who got to bat first, craving and valuing anything I had to say on the game and in turn they gave me that experience of India that I could not have gotten any other way.

The city of Delhi opened my eyes, and this is not the kind of eye-opener that one experiences after learning something new. Delhi introduced me to a new world, India and its capital metropolis, waking up every morning to the sound of 3-wheelers buzzing around the streets, hawkers commencing another business day and the kids running around. The humidity reaches soaring heights, even though I try to convince myself to sleep another 5 minutes, I awaken jubilant at what India will provide me with today. In 2 hours I head south to Agra and the Taj Mahal, the mausoleum constructed during the rule of the Ottoman Empire, rich with history and culture, India down to a tee.