It’s in the covered portion of the market that it hits me, what exactly I find so intoxicating about this place. Yes, the fragrance of jasmine and rose blossoms no doubt has something to do with it, but it’s this, too: These are the colors of India.
I fell in love with this city last year; back on the streets of Bombay for a second time, I’m just as in awe of the possibilities they hold. Mumbai, as it always seems to, has worked its magic yet again.
It was an unlikely connection on Christmas night in Bangkok, a connection that bridged four countries, and as I showed Boo’s picture to the men in Delhi, telling them about the pin he was wearing, I felt grateful I could say: “All of the world is with her.”
Even as I mourn the pumpkin pie I won’t be having here today in Delhi, I’m still incredibly grateful for the experiences this year has brought me – grateful for the way each has been a portal into some pretty brilliant new connections and friendships.
With that observation pointed out, as simple as it was profound, I realized how easy it is to take this world around me right now for granted. That differences like a candle left burning on a cake are always there; it’s just up to us to stay open and discover them.
While I exult in the natural beauty of Pandant Beach, I exult furthermore in the gift Made has given me – the gift of solitude. The gift of space. The gift of an illusion – of being able to imagine I’m the first one here.
Sometimes you don’t notice the constant presence of something until faced with its absence. That thing for me here in India is noise – everywhere except, I recently discovered, in the Thar Desert, on the far western edge of Rajasthan.
On a recent trip, I realized train travel is about slipping into a world that could only happen here – not on a plane – where strangers buy each other tea and hold their children and by the end of the journey, can call themselves friends.
Since I started this blog, I’ve never had an idea of what my niche is. Indeed, the very idea of pigeon-holing myself felt opposed to the way travel has opened up the world to me. But one morning it hit me: Let travel sketching be my niche.
I came to Sacramento to revel in silence; to be in a place where I know no one and no one knows me. I came to process, to think or not think, whatever my mood; to speak or not speak. I came for that thing called solitude.