Categories: Editor's Desk

Samir Shukla

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It was a short trip and, as with every trip to the land of my birth, quite meditative. Twenty days away from the chill of February in Charlotte, into the winter warmth of Western India. An India visit is a convergence of sun, colors, dust and heat, charm imbued with cacophony of sounds, material poverty and the richness of soul. There’s of course the ever-present mass of humanity at every turn.

India requires patience. For those who arrive with a clean slate, pre-conceptions left at the gates, she delivers a rainbow of human behavior and endeavors in high definition. The perseverance of people in the throes of daily hardships and lack of resources is remarkable. It’s a world of wants and haves. The congested cities jolt the senses while the surrounding farms and countryside instill calm.

The current synergy in India is palpable, with its forward-gazing state and national leadership, youthful exuberance, improving infrastructure and access to technology. The common man and the businessman seek to improve fortunes, create a collective narrative. People are striving to build where they used to scrape, seeking to complete the idea of India.

It’s an ancient country striving to become modern while holding on to its heritage. India is a maddening web of stone and dirt, a palette of colorful fabrics strewn across dry, scrublands; it is among the driest of places, and wettest of places, of hardbound traditions, woven together by patches of incompleteness.

Buildings and roads seem in a constant form of incomplete. People live in buildings that look like they will fall apart any minute while next door a massive, modern skyscraper casts its shadow onto the streets. Stone palaces give shade to patched, tin-roofed abodes. It’s a land of stark contrasts and simple beauty. There are people surviving on what would seem like nickels and dimes to us. But they persevere.

Even during the short visits, connections with family members and childhood friends are rekindled. They embrace with joy and natural warmth, creating a sense of belonging. I also cherished the few days I spent with my parents traveling around Gujarat. It was the first time in 40 years that I spent some time with my father in India. We left India in 1974 and we have both returned there at different times, but this time we were able to spend a few days together. It was an unplanned convergence that added to the wholeness of the trip.

The steadiness of resolve of this timeless civilization, along with the awakening global foresight of the younger generations will help India brightly tread future paths. In my many trips back since my first visit in 1984, I have seen marked improvements in infrastructure and even efficiency, albeit much work remains, but it’s when people’s attitude and sense of ownership evolve, real change happens. Of course, the country and its denizens have a long way to go in making all lives matter and alleviate extreme poverty. But social change and evolution don’t happen overnight, it takes time, it takes generations. Slow and steady as she goes, better days always beckon. I look forward to the next visit and further contemplation and connection.


A few weeks ago I ventured into Starbucks, something I don’t do often, and took a chance on Oprah’s Chai Tea Latte. It’s her attempt to bring Indian chai to these shores. Alas, I don’t think I’ve had a more disappointing tasting hot drink. It was a sweet mess. Attaching the word chai to that undrinkable froth is an affront to real tea. Real chai is simple. Take loose black tea and splash it into boiling water. Toss in few shreds of fresh ginger or some chai masala, maybe a pinch of cardamom, a sprig of mint if preferred, a bit of sugar to help combine the flavors and let it steep in the heat for a minute. Add appropriate amount of milk, hit boil again, strain and drink. There’s no need for steam machines or ungodly amounts of sweeteners. I have now forsaken all lattes. From now on real chai only, please.