The author describes India as a diverse country that you either love or hate. She writes "There was also what everyone, including myself, expected of India - despair, filth, destitution. All were things that caused some people to question why I would ever want to come; the things that so many visitors to India recoiled from. The trash that lined the roads and the beggars that tapped at car windows. The deteriorating buildings, the ragged street vendors, the ramshackle homes for which hut was too grandiose a term. The frantic poverty that does not let you rest.
Still there was beauty in the midst of it - the parts of India those well-meaning people had not considered or could not see. The vitality of life teeming all around, the jangling of bangles and ankle bracelets, the colorful saris, the carved temples, with swaying trees surrounding it all. The tremendous scale of its monuments and palaces and art left one stunned, as did the strange way there was a deep-seated peace even in the midst of tumultuous movement and clamor. The wonderful and the abject coexisted side by side. Though the country struggled with the indigence of large numbers of it's population, it was far from a poor place."
This is why I am returning to India.
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