Sleep evaded me as I realized I was resigned to my fate. Soon, India would fade into the backlog of my mind, and be just that, a memory.
With a heavy foot, I walked out the door, down the stairs, and into the misty streets of the capital city. I walked by the dozens and dozens of bodies sleeping on the pavement, and heard the not so distant scowl of a pack of dogs, even more territorial at this early hour. I looked for a stick to prepare myself for one last battle. The dogs with their ribs protruding, lunged at me from the shadows. Each step closer meant another pack of dogs, another challenge. I felt like I was walking to my death.
Or perhaps, I was just being melodramatic.
I got to a clearing looking for transport. The taxi wallahs sleep in their vehicles, I just needed to wake one up. A man quite eager to make 300 rupees, showed me to his cab. Again, I stepped through the trash, around the cows, and kept my stick in hand, ready for attack. A man came from behind, grabbing my bag, begging, no demanding rupees from me. His breath smelled of fermented dog shit. I still had my stick. My driver came 'round, shoving him away. Delhi, had almost got the best of me. Almost. My driver flew past red lights, at 80mph, eventually landing me at the airport. I had made it, just barely.
My clothing stuck to my sweaty body. The dust, grit and grime from 7 months of travel through Asia remained under my finger nails. I slung my backpack on, and walked away from this beautiful, infuriating, amazing, incredible continent.
Definitely not for the last time.
