i hope this summer never ends

Upon landing in Delhi, I found myself choking on the intensity of life that rises up from its streets; every pore and orifice on my body suffocating on the mixture of smog and dirt that perpetually hangs in the air. As I traveled alone through India, I felt a mental fatigue brought on by the crush of human life; so many people, with so few resources, sharing so little space. When you live in such an ecosystem, everyone seems to demand something from you. Your money, attention, and belongings are all up for grabs. Nothing feels safe. And as the days crept by, I felt myself building a fortress of indifference around my mind as protection from all of the wants being demanded of me by others.

Weary from the chaos of daily life, I escaped to the verdant green hills of Munnar, in the southern state of Kerala, hoping for a moment of tranquility and peace. On a morning hike among the impossibly green and lush tea bushes, I came upon a group of ladies who had just finished their work of picking tea leaves. Upon seeing me, the women immediately drew me into their group and motioned for me to take their pictures. I obliged with a wary caution; expecting at any moment to be asked for some sort of compensation, though they never asked.

As I walked away, one of the workers, a spry grandmother type, fell into step with me. We walked along together for some way, and though we couldn't speak the same language, it became apparent that she wanted me to follow her. I soon found myself at the doorstep of her home, greeting her daughter and grandchildren, and eating a home cooked meal of chapatti, rice, and dahl with the only spoon in the house, reserved for foreigners unused to eating with their hands.

Later that day, as I sat on the bed in my hotel room listening to the afternoon rain, I found myself thinking about this chance encounter and the way I was experiencing India. I had perceived the constant wanting of the people as a sort of harassment and a burden. I closed myself off and stood to the side, hoping to be ignored. But did I travel this far to just observe? I needed to stop being a bystander and to let myself experience more by understanding that the key to receiving is to give first. Once I understood this, I could see that all anyone in India wanted was to exchange gives: a smile in exchange for some rupees; an expensive taxi ride in exchange for a good travel story; a home cooked meal in exchange for a happy memory.