How to Delhi
It was the biggest risk I had taken in a while.
Showing up in Delhi, as a single man in his late thirties, a city filled with many of my relatives, takes a lot of courage and bravery. I’d heard of tales growing up from family friends who would visit relatives in India…and come home married. I got lucky, and avoided this…this time.
It was not an easy choice to make, as my family was surprised, even a little offended. I get it, as I would feel the same if the situation was reversed. A sign of maturity in my own independence and confidence in making my own choices, even if unpopular, I decided to stay in hotels while spending a few weeks in Delhi recently. Everyone expected me to stay with them.
It was the right choice for me though, in that I was able to workout daily, enjoy amazing vegetarian breakfast buffets, have control over my schedule, be more independent in my comings and goings, and most importantly, breathe filtered air. Like everything in life, it was a trade-off. The benefit of closeness I feel when staying with family versus the benefit of feeling comfortable and independent.
A sense of relief washed over me as for the first time ever, I visited Delhi without getting sick. As a child, it was often food poisoning that would get me every time I would visit. As an adult, it would be respiratory related illnesses, as the pollution in Delhi would get the better of me. Despite being Indian, my immune system is clearly Canadian, and doesn’t stand a chance. A sign of changing times, and a few years of dedicated attention to improving my immune system, this time was different though.
Both of my parents were born and raised in Delhi. They immigrated to Canada when my mother was eight months pregnant with me. Every time I visit, I start to imagine what my life might have been like had they chosen not to immigrate. Wildly different.
With a population of thirty million, bigger than all of Australia, Delhi can be a busy, loud and chaotic place. Yet despite this, I felt a sense of calm, quiet and peace on this trip — a reminder that the world around me is often a reflection of what’s going inside of me.
My uncle and aunt opened a youth hostel for fifty young kids in a remote area a few hours outside of Delhi, and I got to participate in the opening. It was a beautiful moment to see all of our family come together in an act of charity.
This visit to Delhi was particularly religious, as I found myself visiting a number of temples, some world famous on the tourist checklists, and others, long standing ones, with deep connections within my family history. I would walk into these temples feeling connected to my spiritual side, and walk out of them feeling connected to my capitalist side. I could not help but take notes on the business of religion in India. It’s beautiful. It involves a fair value exchange. A recurring revenue model. Relatively fixed costs with crazy high margins. The religion of god and the religion of money seemed to be one in the same in these venues.
My last visit to India was five years ago, for a family wedding of course. I observed a country that is booming. The energy has changed — there is a sense that India is going places now.
Honestly, in every previous trip, a younger cousin would pull me aside and ask me for advice on how they could move to Canada or the US. Getting out was on the mind of every ambitious young person. Not anymore.
With the cost of living so inexpensive, and the quality of life for the middle class and above so comfortable with unlimited help, I can see why people are happy and satisfied there. The tables have turned.
In under five years, the country has rolled out a national digital ID system that links all government services, benefits, biometrics, banking, and more. 1.3 billion people have enrolled. “Developed” nations in Europe and North America have nothing like this. It would probably take five years of committees to discuss it.
Mobile payments are so prolific that I didn’t use any cash. From paying for food, to buying vegetables from a street vendor, to paying a rickshaw driver, to sending money to a friend, all that’s needed is to scan a QR code and to pay instantly. I would text a picture of the QR code from the vendor to my cousin to have her pay for me, as I don’t have an Indian bank account.
Fast delivery services will deliver anything you need to your doorstep within eight minutes. Yes, eight minutes. Imagine the diversity of inventory of a giant Walmart superstore, all available in minutes at your fingertip. One morning while my cousin was getting ready for work, she wanted to blow dry her hair. She ordered a hair dryer and it showed up eight minutes later. One evening, another cousin wanted a bag of potato chips. Eight minutes later, it showed up. Move over Amazon.
These are just a few examples that shifted my perceptions of India after spending just a few weeks in Delhi.
My parents happened to also be in Delhi at the same time as me, and one day the three of us went to Old Delhi, also known as the original or historic city center, where my parents grew up.
Initially, I had a lot of judgment. Walking behind my parents, I put on my mask and sunglasses because of the dust. My white pants got dirty in seconds after stepping out of the car. I could barely walk the streets full of cow dung. I was watching my pockets carefully because of how many people were brushing up against me.
At one point, I was now in front of my parents and turned back to check on them. Their faces were glowing with excitement. They started sharing their personal stories about each street corner. Suddenly all of my judgment dropped as I was now experiencing this place through their lens, instead of mine. And it was beautiful.
Looking back, I’m grateful for my parents, who made the effort to bring my sister and I there every few years growing up. Despite at the time it being a relatively big expense to fly a family of four to Delhi from Ottawa, they did it. And often.
It not only helped me feel comfortable in one of the world’s largest cities, where my parents happened to have grown up, but also connected to my extended family. I have a big Indian family, with over one hundred relatives in my parents immediate family network. About half of them live across Delhi, and seeing them every few years since I was a child has allowed for a connection that transcends geographies, generations and time. There is an unconditionality to how I get to connect with family that I really have come to value.
Many foreigners visit India and Delhi, and have a wonderful experience. For me though, the experience is different. I don’t feel like a tourist. And I don’t feel like a local. Yet I feel like I belong. Thanks to the constant visits, endless family homes, and nothing else for me to do there but to be curious, I get to have an insider's view of what it’s like to Delhi.
And that is how I learned to Delhi.
