Hungry Traveller

New cultures, new people, new sights and smells. The overwhelming feeling of discovering something for the first time. Every journey leaves me more enriched  and simultaneously empty with a longing for another discovery. Are we really as different as we claim we are? Cultures lay the same ground rules in every land. Music gets our hearts pacing, dance transcends language barriers and brings of all together as one. Food in a very subtle and understated way that connects us to the chef, culture, love and warmth of the place.

How different we think we are with just a few man made boundaries is surprising.

I luv the blend of languages, history, food and dressing in every place that I visit. The world only seems to get bigger as I race against life itself to see every corner of the world. I guess this is what really defines the world having no corners.

How different is my Dodamma (aunt) from the fat Brazilian lady (I imagine) who cooked my Maqueqa. Or how different is my mother from the loving lady I met on the streets of Nathdwara. The happiness on an Italian restauranteur’s face in London reminded me of my dads love to feed the entire world.

My dad once said that nature is something that could be absolutely stunning to one and ridiculously boring to another.

Every traveler gets out on a journey looking for something. I would like to believe that I’m nothing but a hungry traveller. I luv how lost I am without a map. How clueless I am of how much my money can buy. How dumb I look to people by my inherent Indianess and dressing. How exciting street food feels to me. And how I need to fill up the emptiness in me with another journey.