Opening Your Eyes In India

As we were zig-zagging down the bustling streets our first day in India, I couldn't help but notice our auto-rickshaw honking at every turn and nearly missing cows, motorcycles, goats, and pedestrians - some even barefoot - by a square inch of life. I held Little Butterfly tight and closed my eyes firmly shut. 

India will stimulate all of your senses at one time, whether you're ready or not. As I sat on the end of the auto, gripped in anxiety - my husband chuckled and shouted over the honking horns and call to worship heard from the mosques,

"Look! There's so much to see!"

I cautiously opened my eyes, blocking the 100 degree sun with my hand, and peered out into the unknown.

"Look there," my husband offered, "those men are throwing paratha across the restaurant to cook on the stove." 

A moment later, "that woman can carry an entire basket of bananas on her head." 

Soon he was on a roll.

"Those men are unloading a truck full of 200 pound bagged potatoes in this heat. That's a tough life right there."

"Look, a family of four on one motorcycle. I've done that before!"

"Those women are from Rajistan, that's why their saris are especially vibrant and colorful."

"Woh. That little boy is riding his bicycle in the middle of the street in all this chaos."

"See, there are still traditional rickshaws used. They're cheaper but not used as frequently."

"Wow, that boy just ran 100 yards to jump on the bus with a huge smile on his face!"

"Smell that? That's jasmine flowers, it's the flower of Madurai."

Two weeks later, I didn't need my husband to remind me to look. Dressed in a traditional churdidar and dupatta, my hair pulled tightly back, and my third eye neatly pressed between my eyebrows - I could finally see clearly. I still found some elements of India frightening: slums with dirt floors holding large families, intense heat that left me with boils, a barefoot child looking through trash, or wondering what food could make Little Butterfly's sensitive tummy sick. 

Gratefully, India holds pockets of magic that sneak up on you when you need it most: Listening to a mother soothe her baby with a Tamil lullaby. Majestic temples that leave you in wonder. A demure smile peeking through a hijab at the clothing store. Wearing jasmine flowers in your hair, all day every day. Friends and family that offer the best hospitality imaginable. The sound of bells and smell of incense each morning for prayer. And those auto-rickshaws became a real thrill. 

At the end of our trip, exhausted from a beautiful engagement party for my sister in law, I nearly nodded off on our way back home. As my eyes were about to close, I could hear my husband and his aunt chatting beside me. I opened my eyes once again to listen.

"When I was young, I used to think this place was too conservative, crowded, and dirty. I didn't like it. But as an adult, I find it quite beautiful."

I couldn't agree with her more.