Live. Laugh. Travel.

“Come…you meet my family Madame?”
Still peddling hard, Pradesh cranes his neck to look back at me inquisitively. Rich golden clouds of dust billow behind the rickshaw, kicking up into the gleaming evening sunset.

From the time I had arrived in the Pink City of Jaipur, Pradesh had become my friend. Not only had committing solely to his rickshaw service avoided me 3 months of bartering with swarms of drivers but it also allowed me to build a loyalty to Pradesh that was settling for both of us. So to meet his family before leaving the city would be an incredible privilege and an opportunity to further understand Pradesh and the people of Jaipur.

“I’d love to meet your family” I say and he smiles, turning down a bustling street where tilted two story houses line irregular footpaths and carts, overloaded with fresh, glorious coloured produce edge their way through the dense, chaotic traffic. I turn quickly, to capture my final glimpse of the golden sun burning on a horizon of thick dust, before we are engulfed by shadows.

Nearing Pradesh’s home, I see children giggling their way through a game of cricket. Two little girls in vivid yellow build dirt castles in the gutter. Wafts of cinnamon and clove from chai wallahs enliven my senses against the rank odours of buffalo urine and storm water.

Stepping from the rickshaw, I’m swarmed by the dirty faced, beaming children holding out their raw little hands to mine. The gleaming eyes of women are upon me, as they lead their buffalo, whilst carrying pots on their heads. Pradesh cautions me to duck under the low doorframe. There, in the one room house stand 4 smiling children and Pradesh’s wife – Ananya.

Following introductions, I watch as Ananya prepares chai. I watch her elegance and grace, as she bends over a small stove on a concrete floor – crouching in a puddle of seepage from the street. Ananya’s glowing beauty against the harsh, wet concrete and dank seepage reflects the disparity that is India itself. She is fantastic. Not only in her appearance but also in the way she holds herself with such humility and grace. And as our eyes meet, we smile at each other and now I think I understand. Ananya is just as much of a reflection of this culture, of these people, as any other, for her name is Ananya and it means “unique”.