This is India… and I love her too (Bec's Poem from her India Experience)

A soft jingle of bells sounds from the bullocks
Wooden carts piled high with their harvest
A musical language of horns,
Between autos, motorbikes, cycles and cars,
Colourful hand painted trucks,
Adorned with fresh garlands of flowers
Traffic weaves around sacred cows, goats and dogs
Down dirty, dusty roads
Where road markings are more of a suggestion than an absolute

Shoeless children walking to school
Radiant faces, beaming smiles
Proudly wearing neat uniforms in blue and white
Girls with silver anklets tingling,
Their long black plaits looped with ribbons and flowers
A rainbow of soft cotton and silk saris,
Weave in and out of traffic,
So stark in contrast to their surroundings.

Tiny thatched stalls line busy roads,
Long pours of steaming, sweet, milky coffee
Served by an Indian barista who wears a checked lunghi
Women with bundles of thin sticks,
Perform their morning ritual, as if a meditation,
Sweeping entrances to small, colourful homes,
The faint smell of woodsmoke and sandalwood
The mystique of a distant “call to prayer”
Intersperses the sound of Indian music and ceaseless traffic

People everywhere going about their daily tasks,
In a simple, unhurried and accepting manner,
Remind me of the gift of living and being in the present.
Friendly waves and greetings,
Abundant invitations for refreshments and the
Sharing of a simple meal, or what little they have
An eagerness to care for you that is humbling

This is my India,
A land of contrast and colour,
A country of incredible hospitality
Our home away from home