Ruchika and I just got back from a two week long trip to India. The main purpose for the trip was to celebrate her grandpa Nanaji’s 90th birthday, and the party on her cousins’ rooftop on Christmas Even in Santacruz (suburb of Mumbai) was a breezy night full of speeches, poems, family memories (and quizzing), and sangria probably descended from an Indiana University frathouse courtesy of Ruchika’s cousin. We also started the trip by spending a week between Delhi, Agra (home of the Taj Mahal), and Rishikesh, a city on the Ganges river near the Himalayas.

In summary, the trip was a total whirlwind. With the exception of one afternoon spent on a deeply greasy massage at the Yog Niketan hotel in Rishiskesh, and another spent playing Overcooked 2 with her cousins, we were almost always on the move, circulating between shops, temples, family homes, and exceptional endless brunches at various Trident-branded Hotels with our superior travel buddies Kunal and Kiffen.

Equally memorably, the trip was underpinned by an almost constant cacophony of vehicles, noise, and just life in general: people, dogs, cows, monkeys, parrots, peacocks… I don’t think I’ve been anywhere where in my life that just felt so bubbling with biology at work. New York has always felt crowded with people, but the melting pot of so many visually different people (vendors, shoppers, temple-goers, priests, herders, rickshaw drivers, a rare tourist or two, and of course Ambani, Tata, and family literally looming overhead), layered with the endless open-air non-petting zoo of monkeys, parrots, dogs, and cows all traveling and resting in their own gangs… It all just makes Manhattan now seem sterile and L.A. liminal. It would be say wrong to say the trip was exhausting, because that implies a negative experience, but I hope to more flawlessly match India’s energy levels when we go back.

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A few other memories and observations:

• We started the trip on a more ominous note: our goal was to visit the Taj Mahal on our first day, so we traveled by car from Delhi to Agra shortly after landing at 3am on a Monday. The seasonal smog/fog levels turned out to be record-breaking, and the intensity was pretty apparent as we made the four hour journey with Mr. Umesh at the wheel, barley able to see more than 10 feet in front of us despite often traveling at probably 50-60 miles per hour. In retrospect this had to have been the most dangerous drive I’ve ever been on in my life: within minutes of leaving Delhi’s airport, we saw the (dead?) body of a motorcyclist being shuffled across the road, and along the way we witnessed one small car rear-end another in the fog. Only the incessant use of hazards made the roads feel less dangerous, and even then we barely escaped driving into a hauntingly vegetative median shortly after passing through one of many Soviet-style toll booths. We made it safely to Agra, but learned shortly afterward that there had in fact been a much larger accident in which 30 people allegedly died after their buses crashed into one another and caught fire (then saw the burnt remnants ourselves on the way home). We knew things were bad when our politically “independent-leaning” soon-to-be brother-in-law Kiffen mentioned, “This has made me start to believe in the value of having some regulations in America.”
• Unlike in the U.S., where you sometimes see McDonald’s staffed by a single person or two and big box stores like Target totally devoid of any employees, the situation across every city we visited was the total opposite: in every shop, rest stop, temple, restaurant, airport, etc., there were just tons of people available to help and provide service. It made all of our interactions rich and extremely comfortable - nearly anything could be acquired cheaply, on demand, within minutes (including from other stores, or locations across town). It could also explain why India’s economy hasn’t yet caught up with economies like ours (or perhaps more interestingly China’s) despite it’s amazing population and technical capabilities. When you can simply get a guy to help or do anything on demand, why invest in more automated capabilities?
• Temples (or at least many of them) were extremely commercialized. Vendors selling offerings, flowers, sweets, and shoe storage services lined nearly every entry way, and some even provided multiple tiers of fast-pass services that Bob Iger could envy. At one point it became a bit of a turn-off, or at least a distraction from the more powerful spiritual elements at play (like the Carnatic music at the Mahalakshmi Temple), but actually served to remind me how “profit-seeking” (?) is at the core of most religions. If anything, I found myself wondering why the steps to my childhood Catholic churches weren’t lined with small Dunkin Donuts outposts - maybe I’d still be going.
• The Qutb Minar was one of the most astonishing pieces of architecture I’ve ever seen, particularly given the use of different yellow, red, and white sandstones and rich carvings from the Quran. As beautiful as the Taj Mahal complex was, I’d also rather return to Agra to spend a whole day explore more of the Red Fort. The “miniature” version in Delhi, Lal Qila, was also a magical place to walk around. In general, I hadn’t appreciated how fundamental Islam was the to the culture and aesthetic of India until we visited.
• I was very grateful for the newly constructed Coastal Road (an extension of the Sea Link Bridge), which apparently saved us hours of car travel between the Trident Hotel in South Mumbai and Ruchika’s family homes in Santacruz. It made for a beautiful, smooth, low-congestion ride. I can only wonder if in 10-30 years, more people in Mumbai will be upset about the high-traffic partition between city and water. (Tons of people seemed to enjoy the sunset, and even sunrise, each day, so perhaps not much of an issue, but there could be a few more pedestrian-friendly crossing lights). My mother-in-law mentioned how there used to be mangroves and tidal water right at the base of her mom’s favorite temple, but now it’s just a few hundred yards of massive muddy infill to the highway and actual India Ocean beyond. We did also take the “local” public transit line, a freight-style Western Railway train that had enough hanging metal to look like a torture chamber but was actually a very pleasant ride, thanks to the warm air rushing in from the wide-open doors. It was occasionally crowded even in the first-class section, but getting in-and-out turned to be much easier than the subway in New York as everyone gladly jostled for a better position inside of the train once we stood up to leave.
• Sketching along the Ganges in front of the Triambakeshwar Temple, while white-water rafters went by and construction on the Lakshman Jhula Bridge took place above. That stretch of the river was extremely calm, but there are longer rafting trips that I’d like to return for some day. Families were cremating their relatives further down the river, closer to our hotel.
• The sound our car made when a heavily lactating cow hurriedly trotted by, with her udders slamming against the aluminum doors. (She looked to be pretty desperate, but had a handler following her. Despite their sacred status and ability to roam, apparently life can still be quite rough for them according to Ruchika’s uncle, who at point explored and bailed on the notion of taking over a tanning factory.)
• Wondering if I should dip my head as I walked off the end of the bridge in Rishikesh, where a troop of Gray Langurs (“black-faced monkeys”, like the god Hanuman) sat on pillars at the approach of the bridge, squatting at my eye level. Even though I was warned to only worry about “red-faced monkeys” (Rhesus Macaques), some of the locals seemed to be pretty terrified - only a few handed them the corn cob donations they were apparently waiting for. I didn’t end up dipping my head (or donating), but made it through unscathed, only to nearly collide with a cow crossing the bridge on her own commute back to the Beatles ashram side of town.
• Casually sauntering through multiple active construction sites, including a bridge spanning the Ganges, partly out of interest, partly because there didn’t seem to be an alternative path, and partly (if not illogically) because everyone else seemed to be doing it. Construction across the cities we visited simply doesn’t seem to be regulated or managed to any remote degree like it is in the U.S.
• Best food: tied between chaat at a rooftop bar in Agra, spicy corn at a roadside dhaba stand, fried parathas in Chandi Chowk (extremely tight, bustling alleyway in Old Delhi), and a yogurt, roti-millet mix made by Ruchika’s Nanima. The Arches restaurant in Rishikesh was extremely notable for its views, less notable for the falafel wrap I ate. As required, the best (and only) burrito I had was a delicious breakfast option at the Secret Garden Cafe in Topovan (Rishikesh). Kingfisher easily took the cake for best beer, and a balsamic-based drink at the Lalit Hotel in Delhi wins for cocktail, although I likely would’ve enjoyed that Mountain Margarita at the beautiful Loya bar at the Taj in Mumbai if I didn’t have a serious fever raging at that exact moment. The best overall meal goes to our dinner at Masque in Mumbai.