For those that have made the trip and those seeking to do so...

I highly recommend, for anyone who has traveled to India or is even remotely considering a trip in the future, the Dispatches from India posts on McSweeney's (written by David Orr).

While there are currently only 4, they offer a perspective I've not seen before. It's not that of a local or one desiring to become a local, nor is it the perspective of your run of the mill tourist. Orr seems to be someone genuinely curious about what makes India tick and participating in it rather than just observing from the relative comfort of a swanky hotel room.

Day 1 – Friday, November 21st

I’ve woken up twice already; once at 5:15, and once at 6:27. Mom wakes me up at 7:22 to see if I want to have tea with her and my aunt. I do. The tea is made with more milk than water and it’s fantastic. However, it’s not fantastic enough to prevent me from going back to bed until 9:30. That’s when I start to feel guilty about staying in bed when I’m not really that tired anymore. After a quick breakfast and a shower, we hop in a car and head to my dad’s family’s home.

Four years is a long time. I recognize a few buildings on the way, but much of the scenery is different. Only visiting every few years, I have this idea in my head that no matter how much I change, India always stays the same. I expect to come back to the same place that I left last time but Delhi has changed far more in the past four years than I have. There are malls popping up everywhere, the Metro is simplifying the daily commute for hundreds of thousands. College kids are blasting remixed Hindi songs with reggaeton beats. And this is happening throughout the traditional working-class neighborhoods of Delhi; I’m not sure what to expect of my trip to Connaught Place tomorrow.

Dad’s family is different, too. My grandmother is looking her age. She’s still sharp as a tack, but each of those 97 years has taken its toll physically. One of my cousins just had a baby boy and she has started looking the part of a mother. Another cousin is far more… stout… than he was just four years ago. He’s getting married next Saturday. Another cousin is far prettier than I remembered. She’s getting married in two weeks.

The changes are sobering and exciting at the same time. I sit with my grandmother for an hour, holding her hand as she lies in bed. But then my aunt comes in with her handsome baby grandson. I’m not one who usually gets excited about babies, but I am right now because we lock eyes and I catch him smiling and reaching for my face with his tiny fingers. I’m fairly certain we have a deep connection.
From there, we head to another aunt’s house (dad’s sister) for lunch. There’s far too much sitting and talking before lunch and my uncle decides to deride my life choices after interrogating me. Lunch is good and it’s good to see that my aunt is sweet as ever. We head back to dad’s family’s home, sit around for a while, and then Mom and I go back to her sister’s.

I watch a little bit of cricket (Sri Lanka vs. Zimbabwe), we eat dinner, and I retire to my room. Before sleeping, I try to write a bit, which is surprisingly easy until I realize that I have no distractions, and then it’s less surprising but still just as easy. I plan on going to bed early, but for some reason, there are small firecrackers being detonated a couple blocks away and the upstairs neighbors are trying out their new subwoofer at full blast. Nobody seems to care how tired I am.

Arrival – Thursday, November 20th

Flying into Indira Gandhi Airport at night, Delhi doesn’t look like other large cities. That’s because it isn’t like other large cities. The airport has been somewhat renovated since I’ve been here last. I can’t tell if it’s structurally any different than it used to be, but the lighting is better and there have been some superficial improvements. Certainly, I’m in no shape to critique the airport as I arrive. However, I can tell without a doubt that it is cleaner than I remember.
After what seems like an eternity waiting for our baggage, we make our way to the reception area to look for our driver. He better have a picture of us or sign with our name on it because it is packed in here. He does have a sign. Mom, intent on being the worst traveler ever, walks right past him and I have to chase her down and let her know I’ve found our driver.

Pushing the luggage cart out into the night, the smelly, foggy, heavy, night, I make a promise to never utter a harsh word about American airports ever again. I’m weaving a luggage cart stacked with suitcases through moving traffic and fighting the urge to freak out any time a car gets close to hitting me, which is often. After making it to our car, I look back at the vast river of disorganized airport traffic and realize I only crossed about twenty feet of road. That’s when I realize that I could never live in India.

The drive to my aunt’s house (mom’s sister) is surprisingly pleasant. Traffic is heavier than one would expect at 11:30 pm on a Thursday, but the driver gets us home quickly and safely. Thankfully, the car has air conditioning so we are able to make the trip with the windows closed, avoiding the dust and exhaust that mix with oxygen and nitrogen to form ‘air’ in Delhi. Upon entering, I’m happy to see my aunt although she looks much, much older than I expected. After sitting and talking for a bit, I decide I’m still tired and retire for the evening, falling asleep around 1:00 am.

Departure – Wednesday, November 19th

I like to travel light. I use one checked suitcase. I carry a couple things in my backpack. My mother, however, knows that each passenger is allowed two checked items, one carry-on, and a personal item. She packs three suitcases, a carry-on, her laptop bag, and a second carry-on for me. So I guess I won’t be traveling light. After checking in and making our way through security, Mom decides she’s maybe kind of hungry but won’t decide where to eat. She claims to be ‘okay with anything’ but somehow rejects each eatery we pass. Twenty minutes later, she finally settles on McDonald’s of all places, and I decide this is not a good start to the trip.

Once we board the plane, I decide to put the rolling carry-on in an overhead compartment and keep my backpack underneath the seat in front of me. Mom, however, elects to keep her carry-on and her laptop bag at her feet, cutting down on the room available for my backpack and, therefore, my legs and feet. Fantastic. Oh, and she takes the aisle seat.

After 3 hours in the air, The Dark Knight, and some mediocre pasta with chicken, Mom decides she’d rather have the window seat. One would think I’d be used to dealing with all this after years of traveling with my mother, but, alas, no, I’m not. I take a Diazepam and sleep for a few hours, wake up for 2 hours, and sleep for a few more hours. I’m not sure how long I sleep on the plane, but it doesn’t feel like 15 hours. That’s partially because it hasn’t been 15 hours since takeoff. We’re told we will reach Delhi about an hour early.