the beauty of India
You can never be truly ready for India. She delivers whatever she feels like. Just when you think you’ve learnt her ways, she throws two curve balls and a hot chai at you. With my blonde wife gaining an over abundance of unwanted attention and our tuk tuk driver clearly lost in downtown Delhi, I wasn’t feeling in the most cheeriest of moods. With each wrong turn, it became clear that we were going to miss our overnight bus ride that promised to deliver us to calmer grounds. Finally, the driver stopped the tuk tuk, hurried us out and left us under a highway bridge beside pole ‘13’. I refused to let him leave us stranded in no mans land, until he showed us that this was the address that we were actually meant to be at to meet our bus. Turns out, the bridge poles are part of the actual address.
Just as we settled into our seats ready for the overnight ride, the hot chai was thrown, so to speak. We were once again standing beside a highway feeling like we were going to get kidnapped for the second time in one day. After the sun had long set, a bus pulled over, beeped its horn and we were hustled in. With no idea of what we were waiting for and our bus ticket long gone, the driver somehow knew where to find and pick us up. That’s the beauty of India, a working chaos.