India. I thought I knew about the sights, sounds, smells and tastes of India from my perch here in North America. From a distance I determined what I would enjoy and what might feel uncomfortable about visiting that distant land. But nothing about being there felt like my imaginings.
“India,” I say with great endearment. The land and the people make sense when you have your feet on it’s ground. Before I left, a wise woman told me, "The earth feels organic and whole there. Ancient. Wise." And I do agree.
Indian people have flow, as do their roads. Their hearts beat together, a complexity of drumming, a humming, of spiritual and sacred. Kind, loving, thoughtful, and considerate of each other, but not facing each other. They are side by side.
They are Brotherly. Sisterly. A family tapestry.
The community feels knitted, at least it did to me as an observer. There was a grounded complex of intentional patience with each other, even in the hard-tac sales of their shops. A consideration for one another was cellular. Insular. Kind.
Outwardly, things physical felt abrupt.
You are face to face with piled garbage and a cow on top. Refuse is all along the roadside, over every shoulder. The day and night traffic and honking - their horns speak variations of meaning when you know what to listen for. It is a language learned and passed along.
India's beggars are both subtle and tenacious.
Occasionally, a well fabriced woman smiled slyly. Twinkling eyes speak volumes of knowledge and wisdom. Misted things unsaid but known between wombs. Their hopes, everyone's hopes, are worn in a simple gaze but unsaid.
All souls warmed, amiable and welcoming.
Also, there were cows.
And monkeys, a distraction to be watchful and wary of but also entertained by (at a distance).
I am home again and processing this new layer over my own life. Processing my misunderstanding, thinking that I knew the other side of the Earth from screens and books, local restaurants, residents of Canada, from watching YouTube videos.
All I can say is NOPE.
Never assume. Because you never will know what you don't know. We are all ignorant until life is lived, touched, sung with our own breath.
I can never say that I know India.
But I now hold a love for her that was not known before.