Wonderful, incredible India. This is day 8 in this country; what to write about first? The unbelievably vivid colors, smells and sounds? The din of the Diwali crackers? The women walking down a dusty road in brilliant red, or yellow, or gold, blue, orange (name a color) saris, one with a pallet of cow patties balanced on her head. Another balancing a giant bundle of 15 foot long reeds. How about the home made trucks ubiquitous in the villages, sporting no cabs - just a seat, steering wheel and motor.
Maybe Varanasi and the deeply spiritual buzz I developed as our guide, a devote Hindu, walked us through the myriad of rites associated with this oldest of the world's religions. Or watching devotees bathe themselves in their holy river, a place most of us would not dare to dip our big toe. Or the Indian family who opened their home and kitchen to us. Or the strangers who befriended us on our miserable overnight train ride.
What about the stark uncompromising vitality teeming in the streets around me. I have never been in a place so alive. The material poverty is palpable there is no apparent poverty of the soul. Every sight here exceeds the last. Every meal even more delicious than the one we had yesterday. Each day has been an eye-catching exciting adventure.
And yesterday I saw the Taj Mahal, determined to disdain it as a decadent tourist escape but finally surrendering to the lump growing in my throat as the magnificence of this indescribable jewel grew larger as I neared the cool translucent marble. My soul is uplifted, my spirit soars, my mood becomes tranquil and I leave content that there was once a man with the audacity to create such beauty on such a grand scale.
Nine more days In India. Details when I get home.
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