A woman in a burka is walking towards me pulling her husband on a makeshift trolley of 4 wheels and 2 planks of wood as has no legs - he is probably a leper. She pulls the trolley on a cord with one hand, the other outstretched to me, cupped, with a pleading look in her eyes. Her hands are worn, cracked and filthy and the burka she wearing is dirty and she smells. Ive been in India so long i don't even really see her. As i brush past her, my eyes fixed on the breakfast cafe the thought enters my head that I am really fed up with beggars, they are constantly at your back or hopping towards u with one leg or melted hands and face and I'm sick of it. In the next moment I feel remorse, what right have I to feel 'fed up' in a country where you can survive on less that 5 dollars a day and there are STILL people on the streets and dying in front of you. Emotionally India is challenging me to my very core. Who am I to say that I 'cant spare' 50 rupees (about 40p). India challenges you to experience exactly opposite emotions exactly at the same time. You can experience extreme sympathy whilst feeling horrific disgust at the same time.
When u have time to breathe a culture in and out like air u have time to notice how it feels, smells etc, its like water we drink it all the time and never notice it!