Show me your colors

Observation from a thousand kilometers away, turns always out to be, mildly said, superficial.  You can’t breath in the air, although, it is said there’s not much to inhale in India. (As I run through the book market and inhale something very close to oxygen! book- White Tiger) You can’t see the shades of Taj Majal, acting out to be as a woman, blushing in pink, being royal in gold and elegant in white, as the rays of the sun linger on the historic walls. You can’t hear the bustling street food stands, argue with the rickshaw drivers, as they will never say I don’ t know, pointing the direction quite the opposite of your destination. You’re going to India!? But why? Because I want to experience the above mentioned, I want to inhale the non-existent, hear the deafening, and argue with the clueless!