I don’t think I’ve ever really written about India despite the strong feelings I have about the country. It probably got written off as one of those stories I would tell people in real life when we gather, but considering how little of that happens these days I may as well write it down before I forget.

India is the only place I ever found myself afraid to travel alone. This, of course, was before I actually went. 

The first time I visited was just after leaving China. I booked myself a one month yoga teacher training course in the north near to the Himalayas. I was practically moving from China at the time and had all my things with me. If you read any of my blogs about China, you would know how excited I was to be leaving. Yet on the plane ride over I found myself feeling an unfamiliar nervousness about going there that I’ve never had before for anywhere else. If I had to put my finger on the feeling, it was primarily about being a woman and recognising the amount of propaganda I’ve been fed having lived in the US about how dangerous the big bad world is, especially for women. This was extra strange because I was actually meeting a friend there, which was unusual for me up until this point. So in theory, it wasn’t really much of a solo trip. Because after we parted ways, I’d dive straight into the intensive training; sharing space with several people from all over the world. Yet, I was afraid. 

The fear must’ve been droning off of me in waves energetically because about midway through the flight the person sat next to me decided to engage in conversation. He was Indian and quite friendly. I’d be lying if I tried to rehash the details of the conversation because I don’t remember the particulars; but I do remember that with each sentence I felt myself ease into a calm and reminding myself that I was okay. I was safe.

I also don’t remember his name. But I do know that he was from Delhi and that was our destination. He gave me a few tips about what and where to eat and made me feel more comfortable and maybe even excited about my upcoming trip. By the time I got off the plane. I was ready to take on India.

I had no idea what was waiting for me. I mean that in the best way possible.

Aside from having picked an excellent training program among the millions available, and having found at least one lifelong friend in my roommate from Brazil, there were so many moments and instances in India where I found myself feeling not only at home but also deeply uncomfortable in my being. I was often faced with such a strong feeling of introspection about not only my prejudices, but also my willingness and ability to see kindness for what it is. My experience of people at least in Rishikesh led me to reevaluate everything about humanity, travel, spirituality, religion, kindness, history, politics, being a woman, family, and everything in between. 

I still don’t quite feel that this blog is the right platform to share some of the stories of kindness and humanity I experienced there. So I probably will still save them for in person, if ever. But I will say that I had to learn to separate my instincts from my fears. I had to learn what an instinct actually felt like. Where in my body to find it. I had to deconstruct my understanding of fear and find out how much of it was serving me for survival and how much was programming. 

We spent only like three days in Delhi. One of them involved a long car ride to the Taj Mahal, where I was told I wasn’t allowed to do yoga poses for pictures. To be fair, I can understand as it’s considered a temple. Yet I know I’ve seen many posed pictures online. Regardless, I was impressed with the materials and stones used in the building of it, and it’s interesting to look at it now in hindsight—considering the tombs in Egypt. Ancient societies sure made a point of honouring their noble dead, and especially holding women in high regards (rather than patriarchy, which seems like it would have predated the former but actually doesn’t). I can only hope they honoured them as much while alive too. 

Back in Delhi, we had the most incredible momos from a street cart in the busy town. We perused fabrics for luxury saris just down the way from there. Yet the drive to Agra was filled with an incredible amount of poverty. My first few days were clearly leaving me torn. I don’t think I had ever seen so many people sleeping in tents on the side of the road in my life. It seemed like an endless string of families, mothers, children. It felt like hours of passing them nonstop. This was difficult to see. But when I arrived in Uttarakhand, outside of Rishikesh, after a 7 ish hour drive, it was a totally different experience. It didn’t give dry desert vibes like what most of us think of when we think of India. It was lush. I was surrounded by mountains—and rickshaws. I was in a purely vegetarian city of a cuisine that easily fits into my top 3. And I was set to do yoga for hours a day for the next month. 

Heaven. 

In between full days of classes, we had a few days of break. We used those days going into the town and drinking tea on the floor with the store owners as we look through piles of clothes and chatted about life; crossing the famous bridge over river Ganga and hearing the chanting from the famous temple; going up into the mountains to visit waterfalls and meet an important  guru who found enlightenment up there. He didn’t speak English but we got translations of what he said; and so much of it, I thought, didn’t even need to be said. It was felt. 

I ate some of the best mangoes I’ve ever had. I danced with Vyta to Uma Mohan. I talked about life and love with Daniella. I learned about life in India from Kuldeep. I experienced kindness. I experienced community. I felt the energy of a culture where Ahimsa (non-violence) is practiced, even with other animals. I met cows who were as playful as a puppy, giving me a new appreciation for these amazing animals. There was one who would play hide and seek with me whenever I walked past the fence. I bonded and cried with and in front of strangers from 6 different continents.  

Leaving after this trip was difficult. But I did it with reverence and a feeling that India owed me absolutely nothing. Yet I knew, I felt, that it was a motherland. Humans began there. I felt it in the trees, the grass under my feet, in the whispers of the breeze. I knew it wasn’t going to be my last visit. 

And today, I go again.