Memories of India

By Rita H. Chen

 

A Trip to the Market
In a small auto rickshaw, our driver weaves through the four messy rows of cars, scooters, motorcycles, rickshaws, and trucks crowding the three-lane road; he is nonchalant while we clutch the plastic of our seats in undisguised terror

 

Noise assaults the senses from every side as car horns sound off in a symphony of short warning honks, long angry blares, and catchy little trills

 

Darts of colours move in-and-out of vision as trucks brightly decorated with swirls of brilliant paints, strings of multi-coloured flowers draped across the tops of roadside stalls, and women in vibrant scarves and tops pass by

 

Insistent vendors congregate as soon as we disembark – some offering plastic bangles and touristy trinkets, others beckoning us to come look at soft pashmina scarves and fragrant spices

 

As we walk along the paved but yellow-dusted sidewalk of the market, we resist the temptation to buy one of the appetizing snacks being sold by food vendors and look forward to what will surely be an afternoon of smart bargaining and even smarter finds

 

 

A Trip to the Taj Mahal
Sweltering heat made
Worse by the press of bodies
In crowded Agra

 

Rita’s Musings: There is no doubt that India is an assault on your senses. The colours, the sounds – it’s simply indescribable. I hope I was able to capture at least some of that imagery and emotion in the words above.