returning to india with new eyes
Arriving in India felt like stepping into a familiar storm of colour, sound, and scenery, a sensory intensity I hadn’t experienced since my last trip more than a decade ago. Yet this journey was different. I wasn’t here to visit family or slip into familiar routines; I was here as a traveller, seeing the country through new eyes.
For the first time, I was “posh backpacking,” moving through India with both curiosity and comfort, carrying a sense of belonging that has always been hard to explain. India has long felt like a second home for me. A place woven into my story since the moment my dad left here as a young student in the late sixties. Returning now felt like circling back to where it all began.
We took a rickshaw ride through the narrow lanes of Old Delhi, plunging straight into the city’s heartbeat. The streets were a living maze of market stalls, scooters, handcarts, cows, and people moving in every direction. It looked like complete chaos, yet it worked. There was no anger, no road rage, no one shouting or pushing their way through. Instead, it was an organised chaos: a flow that somehow made perfect sense to those within it. Everyone seemed to know their place, instinctively shifting, slowing, signalling, and weaving around one another with a kind of unspoken harmony.
As we made our way through the cobbled lanes, i caught myself observing the smallest details, the patterns of saris and even some time to shop. The smells and delights of food stalls all displayed to make the mouth water. The architecture of ancient buildings and temples.
A Tapestry of Faith: Sacred Spaces Standing Side by Side
Our guide pointed out a striking sight, a Mosque, a Sikh temple, a Christian church, and a Hindu temple all sitting side by side. Different faiths, different traditions, yet standing together in quiet harmony. It was a reminder of the layered, complex, and often beautiful coexistence that shapes daily life here. In a world that can feel so divided, that single street corner felt like a lesson in what’s possible.
The Timeless Magic of the Taj Mahal
Leaving the vibrant rush of Delhi behind, we set off early for Agra. The landscape shifted as we drove, fields opening up, small villages appearing like quiet pauses along the road, and the soft morning light settling over everything with a gentle warmth. Even though I’d made this journey before, it felt new. Maybe because this time I wasn’t rushing between family obligations; I was allowing myself to truly soak in the journey.
Arriving in Agra, there’s always that familiar anticipation, the sense that you’re nearing something extraordinary. And then, stepping through the main archway of the Taj Mahal complex, the world seems to fall silent. No matter how many times I’ve seen it, that first glimpse still feels completely surreal. The symmetry, the pale marble glowing in the daylight, the way it seems to hover more than stand… it steals my breath every single time.
People often talk about the Taj Mahal as a monument to love, but standing there, it also feels like a monument to devotion, craftsmanship, patience, and an almost spiritual pursuit of beauty. I found myself just standing still, letting the scale of it wash over me in the stillness. The perfect balance of each minaret, the reflection pools mirroring the sky above.
There’s a stillness that the Taj Mahal holds, even amid the crowds. A quiet reminder that some things in life are beyond words, beyond photographs, beyond memory. They have to be felt.
Jaipur: The Pink City of Colour and Royal Legacy
From Agra we travelled west toward Jaipur, the famed Pink City a long favourite of mine. Its name earned from the terracotta wash that covers many of its old buildings. As we entered the city, the colours seemed to intensify, soft rose-hued walls, bright saris catching the sunlight, markets overflowing with textiles, jewellery, and spices. Jaipur has a rhythm entirely its own, vibrant yet regal, bustling yet somehow elegant.
The history of the Maharajas lives everywhere here. Their legacy isn’t confined to museums; it breathes through the architecture, the local stories, even the way the city is laid out. Wandering through the old bazaar, it was easy to imagine royal processions once moving down these very streets, elephants adorned in jewellery, musicians playing as the rulers of Jaipur made their entrance.
The highlight, of course, was our visit to Amber Fort, perched high on a hill like a storybook fortress rising above the desert. Approaching the fort, the scale of it becomes clear: sweeping walls stretching across the hillside, intricate gates, mirrored courtyards, and towering pillars that speak of both power and artistry. Inside, every room carried a whisper of the past. The Sheesh Mahal, with its thousands of tiny mirrored tiles, shimmered even in the dim light, reflecting a time when candlelit evenings would have made the whole palace glow like a galaxy.
What struck me most was the blend of strength and beauty. The Maharajas built Amber Fort as both a protective stronghold and a place of refined living. Standing on the ramparts, looking out across the valley and the lake below, there was a sense of stepping back into another era, one filled with grandeur and resilience.
Jaipur itself felt like a tapestry, threads of history, colour, craftsmanship, and tradition woven together into a city that still pulses with life. It was one of those places that lingers long after you’ve left, both vibrant and deeply rooted in its past.
Backwaters: Nature’s quiet lessons
From the jewels of Rajasthan, we flew south to Kerala, an entirely different landscape of India, where everything softens. The landscape turned lush, green, more tropical and life moved with a slower, more fluid rhythm. It felt like exhaling as we entered the final leg of our trip.
This was spent on the backwaters, drifting along in a traditional houseboat. The stillness there was unlike anything else. Villages appeared like quiet chapters along the river, women washing clothes at the water’s edge, fishermen casting nets at dawn, children waving from narrow pathways lined with banana trees.
One evening, as we floated deeper into the waterways, a storm began to gather. The sky darkened to an almost indigo blue, clouds rolling in heavy and dramatic. From the deck of the houseboat, we watched the first drops ripple across the water. Soon the rain was pouring, the kind that feels cleansing rather than chaotic. Thunder cracked in the distance, and the whole backwater seemed to pause, nature taking centre stage. Sitting there, wrapped in the comfort of warm air and the sound of rainfall, I felt an unexpected sense of peace. It was a moment of pure presence as I sipped my warm cup of chai. This was the memory I wanted to take away and hold on to.
During our time in Kerala, I also experienced an authentic Shirodhara, one of Ayurveda’s most soothing treatments. Lying on a wooden table, warm medicated oil flowed gently in a steady stream across my forehead, right over the third-eye point. It was impossible not to surrender. My breath slowed, my mind softened, and that constant hum of internal noise quietened. Shirodhara is traditionally used to calm the nervous system, ease anxiety, improve sleep, and bring the mind into a state of deep rest. Experiencing it in the land where Ayurveda has been practiced for thousands of years added a layer of authenticity and reverence.
Kerala was a final reminder of balance, nature, and the importance of slowing down. After the colour, chaos, and history of the north, the south offered restoration. It was the perfect ending to a trip that touched every corner of my senses and every layer of my being.
The Journey Home: Hospitality, Kindness and a renewed sense of Peace
As our journey came to an end, what stayed with me most wasn’t just the beauty of the places we visited, but the warmth and generosity of the people we met along the way. From rickshaw drivers sharing stories to the gentle smiles of those preparing our meals, from guides who treated us like family to strangers who offered help without hesitation, every encounter carried a quiet kindness. India has a way of opening the heart through its hospitality, its layered cultures, and its ability to hold both vibrancy and stillness at once. I returned home with a renewed sense of calm, a deeper appreciation for its traditions, and a feeling of being grounded in something much larger than myself. This trip wasn’t just travel, it was reconnection, reflection, and a reminder of the beauty of human connection.
“Travel is not just where you go, but who you become along the way.” ~ Nina
If you would like to learn more about my travels and who we booked through, then please get in touch by emailing nina@yogasansaar.co.uk or book a class online.
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