This summer I realised a long held desire to travel to India, not only to explore the country as a tourist, but also to get involved with a charitable organisation. As a student of Town and Country Planning I am aware of the huge difficulties facing less economically developed countries in the coming decades and the implications this will have on global sustainability. I was therefore interested to go and see for myself a country that is mirroring the kind of development occurring in the UK during the industrial revolution, on a much larger scale.

 On a personal level I also wanted to take in for myself the poverty and suffering we are all made aware of on television campaigns and news stories, which rarely have enough direct impact on our lives to feel “real”. As I grow older and learn more about the world I have become aware of the extent to which my upbringing has been sheltered and privileged. I wanted to gain a better appreciation of the vast chasm that is the global gap between rich and poor.

 I made arrangements to spend the first 3 weeks of my 6 week trip working with an organisation called Ashalayam in Kolkata. Ashalayam provide street children with shelter, food, education and love. Their ultimate goal is to enable the children to re-join society with the skills to earn money and provide for themselves. In addition to this I planned to spend a further 3 weeks travelling around in a more traditional tourist role. My journey would include Varanasi; the holiest city in India, Agra, Kajuraho; a more rural location, and Orcha. I elected to travel by rail, not only to reduce costs but also to have more contact with local people.

Despite having done my best to mentally prepare myself for the culture shock of arriving in India, I was completely overwhelmed on my first day. I spent a 3 hour taxi journey from the airport sweltering in gridlock and wondering if I had overestimated my ability to cope with the situation. This feeling was compounded by the shouts and advances of numerous hotel owners as I exited the taxi, clutching what now seemed like a ridiculously proportioned suitcase. I could not have looked or felt more out of place and as I looked around in confusion the heavens opened to give me my first taste of monsoon weather.

I spent my first night feeling genuinely appalled by my surroundings and appalled at myself for my negative reaction. The next day however I made my way to Ashalayam and from that point on my feelings about India began to change. The children greeted me warmly, seemingly delighted by my presence, despite not knowing who I was. I ended up teaching English to a group of boys who had chosen to follow a vocational education instead of going to school. My mother is a teacher and the contrast between a class of children in the U.K and this group of boys was stark. They were attentive, polite and responsive. Being boys, they still had a rambunctious side, but they were never disrespectful.

 Journeying to the organisation every day entailed an hour’s bus journey. I spent this time looking out the window, taking in the life bustling on around me. The streets passing along beside the bus were lined with the temporary shelters of the many, many families, children and lone individuals who live on the pavements of Kolkata. They undertake their daily routines in full public view, they own nothing, they starve and struggle and many of them die. At first it was unbearably sad, but as the shock wore off I began to question how such wide scale poverty could be solved. Certainly Ashalayam and organisations like it were helping a minority of people, but even they were treating the cause, not the effect.

Some would argue that India’s development will follow a similar pattern to those of western countries; pulling out of its industrial age with the associated increase in quality of life and the shrinking gap between rich and poor. In my mind however, I see a significant obstacle to India’s development; the caste system. India’s population is divided infinitesimally into a hierarchy of social positions. Your caste is dictated from birth and although the caste system is now “abolished” in legal terms, it purveys every aspect of daily life. The caste system facilitates the belief that those living in squalor and poverty, doing the most degrading jobs for little or no pay were doing so because that was “their place”. The concept of a set of rights that everyone is entitled to is based on the assumption that we are all essentially equal, which gave rise to institutions like the National Health Service in the UK. How can a country reach a place where it is even beginning to tackle poverty and suffering amongst its people when there is a sliding scale of what various strata’s of society are entitled to?

My frustrated musings on India’s future were counterbalanced by the vibrancy and life in this amazing country. Every input to the senses is intense to the point of being almost overwhelming. The food is a polarised exercise in juxtaposition; salty and dry biriyani; saccharine, oily sweets, dripping I than syrup; Creamy, tangy lassi’s and fiery, aromatic curries. Breathing in could fill the nostrils with scents of fragrant incense and delicious street food or human excrement and decaying rubbish; on more than one occasion I had the illuminating experience of all four at once. Capitalism stands shoulder to shoulder with religion and history; never have I encountered a more spiritual and entrepreneurial people. They are tenacious in the face of adversity, creative and determined. Many tourists complain about the hard-sell they experience on an almost constant basis, but it is impossible not to admire their dogged pursuit of opportunity. It is also uplifting to see the faith and fervour with which they commune with their deities. I am not religious, but I was inspired and moved witnessing throng of people fighting for a glimpse of a representation of Kali, the god of power. In their eyes you could see that their belief was pure and unquestioning; not for India the sometimes pick and mix attitude of the western faithful.

I grew to see the beauty of India. It is not the glossy, exotic beauty of Bollywood films or carefully shot travel documentaries. It is not even in the people, who display the simultaneous foibles and generosity in spirit as any other group of people anywhere else in the world. It is not in the pale ethereal dome of the Taj Mahal or in the labyrinthine streets of Varanasi. To me the beauty of India is in its contradictions. It is a country of extremes; it elevates you one minute and drags you into despair the next. Comedy and tragedy exist side by side; of course this is true of all places and all times but nowhere is it more stark and obvious than in India.