India is the kind of place that delivers a sensual slap in the face the minute you step off the plane. The heat, smells, colours and constant chatter envelop you, sinking into your clothes, your skin and your hair; lingering as a constant reminder of your visit for days, sometimes weeks, after you leave.
I’ve touched down in Delhi, the Indian capital, anxious to immerse myself in the thick of the country’s milieu. This is the third-largest urban area in the world, after Tokyo and Jakarta respectively; it doesn’t take long for the thrum of millions of people converging to become my backdrop – it’s almost hypnotic, in the same way white noise is.
Despite its name, New Delhi is old – having been continuously inhabited since around 600 BC, its heritage almost comparable to the likes of Rome, Istanbul and Cairo. Some of this history peeks from behind tangles of electric wires and pancaked layers of Bollywood posters as we jump in our own rickshaw to
