India overwhelms me. I have grown accustomed to the muted monochromatic moderation of Europe. But then… India!

Suddenly everything is brighter, more colorful, louder, spicier, crowded.

The color spectrum dares a full rainbow with bold color and pattern combinations adorning women, men, children, houses, businesses, and the little neighborhood shrines. I need sunglasses as my eyes adjust.

Day and night the honking of car horns fills the roads and air — a blasting cacophony. Even the pop music holds notes which challenge my ears and brain: tones within tones and notes in between.

Then there are the smells — millions of them pouring out of homes, restaurants, hotels, street carts, people. Spices I can not yet name nor identify yet they draw me in by my nose tempting me to just try one bite.

And there is no room to process this fuller range of…everything. India is what you might call “population dense.” Millions of people bustling, busy with the work of surviving what this life has given them. And to offer welcome, kindness and a cup of tea for strangers, like us; Indian hospitality is overwhelming. The culture actually has a phrase that means, “The guest is a god.” Seriously.

Shopkeepers welcome us to sit, enjoy a drink, and they proudly present their wares. Pile after pile of brightly hewed and elaborately embellished cloths are poured out onto mats in front of us. Commerce spills out into the streets.

Good God… the streets!! Sidewalks are rare, so everything happens in the streets with everyone somehow miraculously sharing the roads. Like some dance we have not yet learned, the community road choreography somehow works, turning three lanes into six without collisions between any number of vehicles and living creatures. Cars, busses, Auto Rickshaws, Rickshaws, bicicles, people, stray dogs, cats, goats, monkeys, cows.

Good gods… the Cows!! The cows are everywhere! They amble, saunter in the middle of crowded roadways. The traffic pauses, waiting for these gentle beasts to move to the side of the road eventually. Revered yet never touched.

And have I mentioned mosquitos? Turns out they are not too abundant in January, but they do occasionally carry Malaria. So we wear bug spray and each take a Malerone pill each night — medication which should help us avoid Malaria. One side effect is vivid dreaming during sleep. Malerone dreams are vividly detailed — super sensory, hi-def!

But at some point, India’s overwhelm wooed me, reincarnated into sensual persuasion.

 

Maybe it was the heady sweet complexity of the steam rising off the mug of Masala Chai warming hands, stomach and heart in the predawn chill and anticipation before the safari jeep roared off in search of tigers.

Maybe it was witnessing sunrises and sunsets blaze their way across the wide sky each day, resetting my body to respect the opening and closing of each day.

Maybe it was when I caught myself imagining a corner of my home painted lime green trimmed in fuschia and decorated in fabrics of turquoise and tangerine. And it made sense. And I liked the idea.

But somehow, India overwhelmed me enough to make me dream new dreams. Dreams incorporating a fuller spectrum of color, scent, flavor, sound, texture. Dreams with less stuff but more elaborate decor. Dreams of boldness. Dreams of wearing bright colors, billowing fabrics, and always scarves. Dreams of welcoming my family and guests with a heady cup of Masala Chai.

Or maybe it was just the Malerone.