Whether you spend a few days or a month and a
half in India, you will come away mouthing that. Nowhere in the world
have I seen such squalor co-exist with the most decadent luxury. But
leaving that aside, India was lovely, yes I can say that, still lovely
even after three years away from it. My Hindi returned haltingly at
first, but with Bollywood coming to the rescue, I managed to carry out
confident conversations with taxi drivers and shopkeepers. It was like
my Norsk teacher had said, ‘They’re all there at the back of your head
somewhere, all the languages you have learnt, and when you press the
right button, it comes back.’
Bright blues, Reds and Oranges - colours even
in the midst of the overwhelming grey fog that is so typical of Delhi
winters, colourful pashmina shawls and silk bags and woollen,
neo-persian carpets at the Delhi Haat market. We stopped our shopping
and watched an impromptu dance by street performers, a young boy and an
older man who donned a horse costume and swayed appropriately to the
compelling beat of drums.
Nan, paneer, butter chicken and real yoghurt…nothing tastes like Indian food in India…
