Everyone kept telling me the same thing.
“India will change you forever.”
There are some countries you travel to, and others that travel into you.
India belongs firmly to the second category.
I didn’t go there looking for enlightenment, healing, or some cinematic “before and after” moment. I went because people wouldn’t shut up about it.
“India will change you forever.”
I kept hearing that line, over and over, from people who had been there.
And honestly? My reaction was simple:
Really? How?
What could possibly be so life-changing?
Basic context: India, on paper
India is vast — geographically, culturally, emotionally.
Over 1.4 billion people. Dozens of languages. Multiple religions layered on top of each other. Ancient history colliding daily with modern survival.
It’s not one country in the way we usually imagine a country.
It’s more like many worlds forced to coexist inside the same borders.
And that complexity is exactly what makes it impossible to summarize — and impossible to forget.
Why I decided to go
During COVID, while studying abroad in Canada, I lived in a shared house with seven people. Three of them were Indian.
When travel came up — that inevitable “where would you go if you could?” conversation — they all said the same thing.
India.
They didn’t describe it politely or carefully. They raved about it. The food. The chaos. The emotions. The contradictions.
There was pride, frustration, nostalgia, exhaustion — all tangled together.
The more they talked, the more curious I became.
Not curious in a dreamy way. Curious in a skeptical way.
I wasn’t chasing transformation.
I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.
So… how was India?
India was something else.
I spent two months traveling around the country.
Would I say it changed my life? Honestly — no. Not completely.
Maybe if I had stayed longer, I might say that.
But what it did give me was something harder to define: lessons, stories, moments that don’t line up neatly.
If I had to describe India in one word, it would be this:
Intense.
There is always something happening. Always something pulling at your attention.
During my first week, I was completely overwhelmed.
The smells. The noise. The chaos. Cows wandering through traffic. Constant honking. People spitting on the streets. And just a few steps away — cremation ceremonies happening in public.
Life and death don’t hide from each other there.
I had already traveled extensively through Southeast Asia. I’d seen extreme poverty, dysfunctional cities, violence, fear.
From child beggars in the Philippines to limping stray dogs in Indonesia — I thought I had developed a thick skin.
I was wrong.
Nothing prepares you for India.
Traveling there makes the things you complain about back home feel almost laughable.
And that’s why India isn’t for everyone.
You’ll either love it or hate it.
There’s no real middle ground.
Strangely enough, after the initial shock wore off, I found that intensity… comforting.
What I loved most: people, unfiltered
One thing that really stood out was how people just talk to you.
All the time.
No hesitation.
No filter.
No polite distance.
If they want a photo, they ask.
If they’re curious, they say it.
If they feel something, they don’t hide it.
Yes, some people approach you aggressively.
Yes, some come off as self-centered.
But there’s honesty in it.
They’re not performing a version of themselves that fits the room.
They’re just being who they are.
And that made me feel like I could be myself too.
I didn’t need to hold back.
I didn’t need to soften my personality.
I didn’t need to worry about being “too much.”
And then there’s Japan
Coming from Japan, the contrast hit hard.
Japan is easy to live in — but somehow hard to exist in.
You’re constantly adjusting.
The way you speak.
The way you act.
Even who you are.
Depending on who you’re with, you subtly shift versions of yourself.
And over time, that becomes exhausting.
In India, I felt free from that.
In Japan, I feel that weight again.
I miss the chaos.
The drama.
The food.
The people.
Their energy and resilience.
If you can handle the difficult parts of India — the discomfort, the exhaustion, the overload — you’ll experience something unforgettable.
Did I ever feel unsafe?
Surprisingly, no.
Despite the visible poverty, I never felt genuinely unsafe.
There were uncomfortable moments, sure.
I got stuck at an airport.
I got ripped off.
I got lost while trekking in wild terrain covered in black ice.
But in every one of those situations, I received help.
From strangers. From locals. From dogs. From people who didn’t owe me anything.
I never felt like I couldn’t handle what was happening.
And that mattered.
Lessons & tips (earned the hard way)
Go slow.
India throws a lot at you. Don’t try to consume it all. Rest. Protect your health.
Look confident, even if you aren’t.
Walk like you know where you’re going. It changes how people approach you.
Trust your instincts.
If something feels off, it probably is.
Learn to say “no.”
Not “no thank you.”
Just no.
As Japanese people, we’re culturally trained to soften refusals.
In India, that doesn’t always work.
There are things you can prepare for — and many things you can’t.
No amount of research truly prepares you for India.
About the food (and getting sick)
I was cautious about street food at first. Maybe overly cautious.
I’d heard all the stories.
Everyone I met seemed to get sick at some point.
And yes — I got sick too.
My throat was so sore I could barely swallow. I lost my voice. My ears and nose were completely congested.
It turned out to be an infection, probably from air pollution rather than food. I only drank sealed water and even brushed my teeth with it.
Still, I felt foolish for my preconceived fears.
Because the food?
Unforgettable.
Street vendor snacks.
Chai.
Masala dosa.
Those flavors can’t be replicated anywhere else in the world. The ingredients, the air, the hands that make it — it’s all part of the taste.
Indian food is heavy, spicy, and intense.
But sometimes, I crave it deeply.
To truly experience a place, nothing beats eating what locals eat and talking to them while you do.
In the end
Two months in India felt like scratching the surface.
The country is too vast.
Too layered.
Too alive.
Every journey there is different.
Every reaction is personal.
It didn’t change my life — but it changed how I look at discomfort, honesty, and resilience.
And that alone makes it one of the most unique travel experiences I’ve ever had.
→ Read: India — The Journey, City by City
India can’t be understood in one story.
If this post resonated with you, I’ve documented my two-month journey through India city by city—capturing the moments, contradictions, and emotions that shaped the experience as it unfolded.