Roller coaster ride

Being in a car for the first time in India reminded me of a ride in a roller coaster with the adrenaline going through all my nerves. The only difference was that the risk in India was real and that the adrenaline came back not only on the road but on every corner. Before leaving, everyone considered that I was completely crazy to go to India alone being a twenty year old woman. Maybe I was, but I have never regretted the time spent there.
Yellow rickshaws, motorbikes, cows and even some horses seem to play an eternal chess game on the road. But at the end, the queen still stands strong and a few centimeters between the vehicles mean the drivers live to see another day. When I arrive to my destination, I cannot believe that I am still alive. Nangloi is one of the neighborhoods near to New Delhi whose grey sky seems to vanish under a rain of kites. The school of art there constitutes a full stop in a landscape of children who occupy the place of drivers in motorbikes between the arms of their fathers and who close their eyes to run away from the abyss. The art centre is a piece of India in the middle of the oversight, a world built up by children and for children. A refuge of thousands of colours where kids can create the mosaic of their days there with a white wall and a brush. It is nearly impossible to find even a millimeter of the centre without paintings and everyone is welcome to enter and fall in love with the graffiti that is not considered a touristic attraction but is well worth the visit.
A huge painting that represents a girl crying states: "We want to live with freedom". In front of the image, a girl that looks like the photocopy in 3D asks her friend to take a photo with her mobile phone. Because in India, sometimes it is easier to have a mobile phone than access to education. "Can I also take a photo with you?" she asks smiling. I cannot deny her so I pose and smile, for the fifth time in that day. This is the situation that I have lived more often in India. I am not a big fan of pictures, but I have learned to deal with them as I have appeared in more photos in Nangloi than in my whole life. An eternal storm of pictures and sometimes even autographs chase me during the weeks that I volunteer there. But also an eternal storm of presents, smiles, portraits made by young artists, henna tattoos, delicious food and a long etcetera that would never end. Because there is no better way to know a place than knowing the people who live there.