Community Spirit, March 2018

A huge, high-ceilinged room with
great chandeliers sparkled above
the mass of brightly-coloured
diamante encrusted costumes,
beautiful ladies and well-dressed
gentlemen in turbans and shiny
shoes. The food and drink were
flowing, and the dancefloor was on
fire with bhangra moves and people
having the time of their lives. I have
never experienced a night quite like
it in my life. It was incredible.
Getting a new perspective
India has a great rich poor divide.
One evening I found myself sipping
champagne in a Bollywood Barbie
dress and another day I was holding
my nose whilst trudging through
piles of littered plastic, trying with
all my might not to befriend a skinny
dog that had followed me for 20
minutes.
As I strolled through the slums of
Mumbai with my clean clothes and
designer sunglasses, an
overwhelming sense of sadness for
the dwellers rose up inside my
uneasy stomach. I squeezed through
the narrow walkways between
homes that were no bigger than the
width of a large child, dodging the
exposed electrical wires and
watching my foot didn’t slip on the
uneven pot-holed floor. Doors were
left open and I peered inside the
homes that housed up to 8 people;
tiny rooms with few belongings and
no windows. I felt a surge of guilt for
all that I had in my life and how, I
thought, could life be so cruel and
unfair to these people?
Then I met a local boy who lived in
the slum and was attending
university. He was happy with his
life and told me that even if he got a
good job he would remain living in
the slum with his family. It was his
home. As I studied the sincerity in
his face, I realised I had been
judging everything by a western
level of standards, giving pity to
people for not having the same
materialistic comforts we enjoy at
home. Failing to appreciate that
these people did not require my
sympathy, that their simple lives did
not warrant my disdain. These
people had nothing according to our
standards. But they were happy.
In the west, we always complain
about trivialities. We need to realise
how lucky we are for basic things
that are taken for granted, such as
smooth roads, a waste disposal
system and healthcare. Beyond that,
we have our beautiful houses, clean
streets and home comforts. A trip to
India not only opens the eyes to the
misfortunes of the world but really
makes us think. It forces us to put
into perspective the important
things in life.
I am certainly not the same person I
was when I went.
The people
I went to India on my own, but I
never felt alone. There are so many
people travelling to India that
finding a buddy isn’t difficult,
although, I must admit, I revelled in
the freedom of suiting myself and
loved meeting new and different
people along the path. Although
India has over 22 official languages,
and over 1600 mother tongues,
many educated Indians speak
English, especially in the big cities.
This enabled me to forge close
friendships with local people, to
whom I will be forever grateful. I
was invited into homes, offered a
bed, fed and genuinely cared for.
In fact, my favourite thing about India is the
people. A nation struck with severe poverty,
over-crowdedness and political strife, yet one
which fights the daily struggle with passion and
pride. They are loyal and strong in their beliefs
and happy in their disposition. I am genuinely
overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity
that was shown to me. Every encounter,
however brief or long-term, reflected the kind
and inquisitive nature of the people. I will never
forget the lady on the train who befriended me
on a 7-hour journey and found me a seat when I
was exhausted and confused on the jam-packed
carriage, or the gentleman in the street who
helped me find my hotel when I was lost and
subsequently invited me to a dinner fit for a
queen at his home with his beautiful family.
The people stare, and not in a subtle fashion,
yet they do so with a curiosity that makes them
childlike. It isn’t a stare to be offended by. True,
it is something that takes a while to become
accustomed to, and for me it became so familiar
that when I arrived back home, I wondered why
on earth nobody was paying lots of attention to
me. While walking down the street, every
second person wants a selfie and although it
can be annoying, there is something rewarding
about being able to put a big smile on a kid’s
face or make a family’s day.
India isn’t for the faint hearted. The frequent
electrical cuts, intermittent WIFI and
unavoidable Delhi belly don’t scream luxury
holiday. It made me cry, it made me mad and it
drove me crazy. It also helped me heal my
broken heart, taught me the true meaning of
gratitude and created some of my most
unforgettable memories.
To discover more about Helen's Travels, go to
her website:
www.joyfuloverlander.com
C O M M U N I T Y S P I R I T