My Internal Critic: Yea, this article is Sh*t.
Yes.
Welcome to Notes from the Road: India Unfiltered. My goal in this series is to not try so hard. Expect more stream of conscious blogging, and less editing. I may lose you and I will cringe before hitting Publish, but writing helps me clarify the experiences. I hope this is as enriching for you as it is for me!
I am in Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. For two weeks, I’ve explored the rich and spicy culture of Rajasthan, the land of Kings. I am bit behind on posts from Rajasthan, so expect more.
You can catch up here:
- Notes from the Road – Delhi, India
- Night Train to Rajasthan: Dramamine, Stepwells, and Desert Survival
- Notes from the Road – Jaisalmer, India
Ok. Let’s get into it.
Summer has arrived in India….
F**K.
The air doesn’t just swelter—it smothers. The heat presses in from every direction, thick and inescapable, even in the shade.
And I’m not alone in surrendering to it.
In Pushkar, I wandered into a silver shop and found the owner sprawled across the cool stone floor, snoring gently beneath a rotating fan. At 2 p.m., the shaded corners of towns like his aren’t empty—they’re full of bodies. Men slumped on benches, shopkeepers stretched out behind counters, everyone melting into stillness, waiting for the sun to ease up.
It’s early April, and India’s lowlands are beginning to roast. Temperatures are climbing past 104°F (40°C). My clothes cling, and having packed light, laundry has become a daily chore.
My inner critic: Good god, man. They still only serve Chai hot.
Yes.
And I’m at a crossroads.
I have nine days left in India before my visa runs out. Then I’ll cross into Nepal, where I plan to spend a month exploring the mountains, monasteries, and quieter rhythms. But now, with a week and change in India, the question is: where do I go next?
Option One: Head North, Chasing Cool Air
I could escape the heat. Rishikesh calls—a riverside town at the foothills of the Himalayas, ten hours away by bus. It’s a place of yoga, ashrams, and laid-back cafés. Cool mornings. Walks by the Ganges. The scent of sandalwood drifting from temples as saffron-robed sadhus trace the riverbanks barefoot.
From there, I could head to Shimla, the old British hill station, and then farther northwest to Dharamshala, where prayer flags flutter in the mountain wind and the Tibetan government lives in exile. A beautiful detour. A reprieve.
But. But. But. But.
But.
That would mean circling back to Delhi or taking the long ride east to the Nepalese border, when I go to Nepal in a week and change. It’s possible. Just… out of the way.
Option Two: Stay Central, Soak in the Heat (and the Chaos)
Or I could head toward Varanasi, absorbing culture from smaller towns along the way in Uttar Pradesh.
Varanassi. The Holy City. It’s closer to Nepal and has tickled my imagination for over a decade—a city of fire and ash, life and death, sunrise ceremonies and burning ghats. The smoke of cremation pyres rising into dawn. Priests and pilgrims bathing into the Ganges while sacred chants (and ash of cremated bodies) float over the water. A place said to be a portal between worlds….
But it’s going to be hot.
My inner critic: The only thing hotter than the air will be the Chai.
Yes.
The Real Decision
The decision isn’t really about geography, is it? It’s about what I’m really doing here—what I came to India looking for in the first place.
Do I want to lean toward comfort, or lean into the chaos?
Do I want relief, or do I want reality?
Because the truth is, there’s a part of me that didn’t come all this way just to be comfortable. I came to feel something. To be cracked open a little. To see the world in its unfiltered, unsanitized form—and maybe see myself more clearly inside it.
To sit in discomfort.
To sweat with everyone else.
To move through the mess, not around it.
To feel India in her rawest, most relentless form—and not flinch.
No one here gets to outrun the heat. Shimla wasn’t a refuge until colonial officers carved it out to rise above the suffering. A mountaintop mirage. An illusion of escape.
Soon enough, Nepal will give me the silence and fresh air I’ve been craving. The clean lines, the mountain mornings, the relief.
But not yet. Right now, I’m still here. Still in the thick of it. Still in India.
And she’s not done with me yet—
Nor am I with Her.
So I’ll go east.
Into the blaze.
Into Varanasi.
And I’ll let the fire write the end of this chapter.
With Love from Colin On the Road
Written from a rooftop in Agra, sipping hot chai against my better judgment.
Thanks for reading your lovely people! I hope you are thriving, and that it is not sweltering whereever you are! If you dig my vibe, check out some of the other latest below. Cheer! Stay Stoked!
