The usual chaos
It only takes a few kilometers after crossing the border that you can feel it already. The change coming from Nepal is evident. The density, the noise, the smells, the colors, the music, the mess, India manifests itself, stimulating and many times irritating the senses. There is no escape. If there is no acceptance, madness is imminent. But this is my third time already, I accept this chaos, I feel it and I even enjoy it, because behind all of it, there's a never ending explosion of life that never ceases. It is beautiful to see the streets vibrating, the energy, the cars, the rickshaws, the street business, the people, the cows, everything in the very same ecosystem.
The thick urban belt that surrounds Delhi throws to your face the most inhumane reality of the country, that of millions of people who still dwell in shit, living in the most dire conditions, settled along poisoned rivers and crammed with millions of others together. It is the reality of hundreds of millions of people that migrate to the city from the backward rural regions affected by drought and poverty, in search of hope for their lives.
Entering Delhi from the south-east shows us the other extreme of India, the one of the millionaires who live in the most luxurious conditions, hiding behind the high concrete walls of their mansions, in immaculate districts with tree-lined broad avenues monitored by armed private security personnel. The owners pass by driven by chauffeurs in fancy cars, seemingly disconnected from the reality that surrounds them at every red light they have to stop, when swarms of barefooted street kids wearing rags knock on their tinted windows asking for a miserable coin. India has no greys, or better put: India shows us, with its blacks and whites that, for most of us who seem to be so lost into our so-called "problems", life is nothing but a benevolent collection of greys.