New Delhi, India

The moment you step out of the Uber, an array of sights, sounds and smells hit your senses. Cars are lined up on the street you need to cross, practically bumper to bumper. Honks and shouts and shuffling of feet create a cacophony of sounds. You can smell the musty scent of the air, and feel the dust particles piling up in your lungs until you place a mask on. Accompanying this, you catch whiffs of incense and spicy food and the distinct smell of people brushing past you. After profusely looking both ways, you practically sprint across the street to avoid traffic and reach the market.

You reach the market and you’re overcome with shock and wonder. You read each of the crude shop signs and examine the products, consisting of everything from electronics to shoes to clothes to knick-knacks.

You walk slowly through the crowded market, shoulder to shoulder with the locals next to you. You pass by a mother with a young boy - he points at you, eyes wide with curiosity. You smile at him.

You feel taps on your shoulder. Hands hold key chains, headscarves, belts, and magnets in front of you as you walk down the cobblestone streets. Voices call to you.

“50 rupees! Only 50 rupees!”

“100 rupees! Great deal! Great deal!”

“Very real! Only 150 rupees!”

You politely but firmly decline and push past them.

As you walk, people gawk at your presence like one gawks at an animal in a zoo. Some stop and take your photo from a distance. Others approach you with a grin and eagerly ask for a photo. Your lighter skin and hair stands out in the market. It feels strange to be the minority.

You’re amazed at the diverse colors in the market. You find beauty in the signs and art hanging on the walls, the ornaments and curtains dangling from the ceilings of the booths, and the shiny antiques polished in the windows. Some items have American pop culture references, which amuses you. It makes you think about how widespread Western culture has become.

Rapid voices speaking Hindi. Bargaining for prices of items, regardless of how overpriced or underpriced they may be. You see children tugging their mothers’s clothes, begging for a toy or a piece of food. Indians greet each other on the street, waving and smiling as though they hadn’t seen each other in a long time. It’s a melting pot of sights, sounds and interactions that may overwhelm you, but you realize that this chaos is home for Indians. They form their livelihoods in this chaos, and they are happy.

The India Gate towers over New Delhi, alight with the colors of the Indian Flag: saffron for strength and courage, white for peace and truth, and green for fertility and growth of the land.

It’s dusk now, and the temperature has dropped to a brisk 56 degrees Fahrenheit. Indians gather around the monument, taking pictures and conversing with one another. Some approach you and offer photos and magnets. You politely decline, knowing it comes with a charge.

Children chase each other around the plaza, laughing, while parents lounge at the benches nearby. You can still hear honks from the New Delhi traffic, which is at a standstill next to the gate. But somehow, it sounds distant. You are in awe at the beauty of the plaza.

It’s a different pace than the market. Quieter, but still lively. You can still smell car exhaust and hear shouts in Hindi, but there’s room to walk now. You’re tired, but you’re fulfilled. Despite the chaos, you’re amazed at the vivacious nature of this country. You’re admiring at how locals seemed to have found their peace amidst an environment you didn’t imagine peace was achievable in.