Smoke barely perceptibly wafted from the open window. Apparently at a nearby construction site, something is burning again. But for some reason, my thoughts did not linger on the word “construction” (the repair is finally completed). I did not think about campaigns, where there is more than enough smoke. Moreover, I did not turn to the topic of “sweet smoke of the fatherland.”Sweet taste of India – that’s what I remembered, as soon as I inhaled the smell of smoke. The first hours in Delhi at night, the search for an overnight stay at the Main Bazaar and the crazy day that followed. My first encounter with Asia was a trip to India in 2009.All this was long enough to forget the difficulties and strains. The shock of colliding with another world is now nothing more than a pleasant (pleasant!!!) memory. I smile, remembering how, in search of protection, I unconsciously hid my hands in karmas for the first week of the trip (there were four of them in total). And with pleasure I draw in the smoke dissolved in the fog. In fact, it was smog (smoke + fog) . But for the romantically inclined me, it is the sweet smell of another fatherland that I was happy to have.
this is how it all started - mud at the Main Bazaar
this is how it ends (it stays in memory)