The India They Didn’t Teach Us About
I was born and raised in Kuwait, far from India’s bustling streets, spiritual landscapes and the chaos and charm that define everyday life in the subcontinent. As a student of an Indian CBSE school in Kuwait, my understanding of India came from textbooks, neatly printed maps and romanticised history chapters. India was not experienced, it was imagined, idealised and compartmentalised.
Like many children of non-resident Indians, I grew up with an image of India shaped by stories and structured syllabus. Kashmir? That was the majestic crown of Mother India. Gujarat and the Seven Sisters of the Northeast were outstretched arms. Kerala gracefully stood as the foot and centrally placed Madhya Pradesh was the heart of it all. I had never heard anyone refer to “Mother India” in Kuwait, but in my mind, I sculpted a vivid, proud and serene image. An India as stable and intact as its map.
But life isn’t lived on paper.
When I moved to India in 1990 aged 18, my perception shattered like cracked glass. What had been a glorified, unified image of a nation slowly gave way to lived realities. Some heartwarming, others jarring.
A Reality Unlike the Textbooks
Living in India exposed me to a culture I had not encountered before, despite my family roots. I absorbed the warmth of neighbours who treated each other like extended family. The kind of community support system that now seems replaced by online networks once existed face-to-face, authentic and joyful.
But reality wasn’t always rosy. A darker underside emerged, one that textbooks conveniently left out. I remember learning about India’s borders, not the clear, unquestioned lines from my school maps, but the real, messy negotiations of power, war and politics. One of the biggest shocks came as I read about the Line of Control (LOC). My childhood image of a unified India, with Kashmir firmly at its head, was replaced by a divided landscape. The Kashmir I knew, unbroken and serene, had been shared and disputed.
Why hadn’t anyone told us the full story in school? Why were we taught myths of unity against the fabric of geopolitical complexity? These questions haunted me. In frustration, I even imagined renaming India as I.N.D.I.A — each state treated like its own LOC.
Travel, Disillusionment and Growth
I eventually decided to travel, hoping to rediscover the cultural depth of this homeland I barely knew. I lived in Delhi but wandered far, to Noida, Gurgaon, Najafgarh, Laxmi Nagar, Anand Vihar; the evolving NCR that now acts like the suburbs of a modern metropolis. Each place had its own rhythm, its own character.
I also returned to Bihar, my ancestral state. Unlike the leisure I had anticipated, my journey across Bihar, Bengal and Orissa, including a route to Nepal by bus, challenged my patience. What disturbed me most was the commercialisation of spirituality. Visiting Hindu pilgrimage sites, I found myself surrounded by “pandas” (priests) more interested in bargaining than guiding. Sacred places felt like a transaction: pay to skip the queue or be stranded in spiritual bureaucracy. Religion, I realised, had severe class lines. For the wealthy, even the divine was available on demand. It disillusioned me so deeply that I stopped visiting religious places altogether.
But Then There Were Exceptions
I also have had positive experiences. One year, my spiritual spirit got ignited. It was Navratri time; for 9 nights straight, I visited the Chhatarpur Temple in Delhi around midnight. I saw hundreds of devoted worshippers arriving from every corner of the city. The traffic near our intersection was heavy, but instead of turning toward home, I redirected myself to the temple.
To my surprise, the experience was not only manageable but truly impressive. Though it took a while to see the idol, nothing felt chaotic. The crowd was orderly, the queue was long yet smooth and the temple even offered a planned parking facility, all free. Management had thought it through. For nine days, the crowd was managed with remarkable care. I waited in line for almost three hours one night, yet never once felt frustrated or compelled to vent. No bribing needed, no special contacts required, no priests asking for donations to shortcut the queue.
On the ninth day, I visited Chittaranjan Park in Delhi, a Bengali colony known for hosting spectacular Durga Puja celebrations. Each block had its own elaborate, temporary temple structure that looked indistinguishable from permanent architecture, except if you glanced down to see the faint outlines of parking lots beneath your feet. Even this made me smile; it spoke to a kind of civic devotion that I hadn’t seen before. Once again, I was deeply impressed.
Finally, I capped off the three-day streak by visiting the epic grounds of Ram Leela on Dussehra, where the grand Ravana effigy is burned. Despite the massive crowd, the event felt well-organised. As everyone rushed for the exits after the Ravana was set ablaze, I made a quieter choice: I climbed onto the giant wheel. From above, I watched the chaos soften, the crowds thin and I descended back to ground level feeling calm and safe.
Three days. Three very different locations. One common outcome: genuine respect for how well these mass events were handled. If Google Reviews were available at the time, each of these would get 5 stars.
The Cost of First Impressions
If I had such well-organised experiences earlier in life, I imagine I would have visited many more places across India. But early disappointment stayed with me. That initial glimpse of corruption and gatekeeping in sacred spaces dampened my enthusiasm, even my faith. I wonder how many more people like me were quietly alienated over the years.
It’s the same feeling you’d get at any popular tourist spot where the integrity of the experience is undermined by privilege. Imagine you’re standing in line at Madame Tussauds or an amusement park and someone behind you suddenly skips the queue, escorted by a man in uniform. What message does that send?
In my 20s, it may have just felt unfair. But now in my 50s, I see the long-term cost: 25 years of wanting to stay away. And that’s 25 years of missed opportunities, not just for me, but for the small businesses, vendors and communities that would have benefitted from return visitors. It’s sad to realise that a majority of my experiences with Indian spiritual institutions have earned just 1 star, while only a rare few have truly deserved 5.
Final Reflections: A Decade in India
Over ten years in India carved new layers into my identity. I roamed from the snow-draped hills of Himachal to the sandstone forts of Rajasthan, from the political heartland of Uttar Pradesh to the industrial core of Gujarat. Despite the diversity, I saw one constant: contradiction. Love and corruption. Community and chaos. Beauty and bureaucracy.
One place I never got to visit was Vaishno Devi in Jammu. Not because I didn’t want to but because I grew weary of the gatekeeping: “I know someone in the police,” “My relative is in the army.” Devotion shouldn’t come with access cards. So, I skipped it.
In the end, I returned to Kuwait, my original home. Changed. A little jaded, but wiser.
India was no longer my textbook dream, nor was it an unliveable chaos. It was complex, deeply human and heartbreakingly real. It surprised me, disappointed me and occasionally uplifted me.
India, for me, remains an image ever evolving.
Kamlesh Kumar
Kamlesh Kumar is a Non-Resident Indian who grew up in Kuwait, shaped by the currents of migration and memory. In his writing, he illuminates the complexities of living between cultures, delving into the dissonance between inherited stories and the realities he’s experienced. Through a lens sharpened by travel and the pursuit of home, he reveals how identities are not fixed by maps or textbooks, but transformed by wonder, loss and the search for belonging.
14 Comments
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Kamlesh Kumar
Thank you so much, Dr. Kaul. Your words mean a lot. It’s always powerful to hear when someone’s personal journey echoes parts of our own — especially when it comes to the layered and often conflicting experience of India as both memory and reality. I’m glad some of those reflections resonated with you. Grateful for your thoughtful engagement.
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Sheetal Raina
Reading your story really struck a chord with me. Having grown up in India and now living abroad, I see the country in such a different light every time I go back. Your words captured that feeling perfectly. The way you describe both the warmth and the frustration of daily life, the chaos and the rare pockets of calm, feel so familiar yet so new. It’s amazing how much our idea of India changes once we step away and how returning brings a mix of nostalgia, surprise and sometimes disappointment. Thank you for sharing such an honest and relatable journey. It reminds me that understanding India is an ongoing process and there’s always more to learn beyond what we were taught or what we remember from childhood.
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Kamlesh Kumar
Hi Sheetal Bhabhi,
Thank you so much for your heartfelt response. It truly means a lot to know that my story resonated with you. Like you said, every return visit to India adds a new layer—sometimes beautiful, sometimes jarring—to how we perceive the country we once called home. The emotional duality of nostalgia and disillusionment is something only those who’ve lived both inside and outside the system can truly understand.
I completely agree—understanding India isn’t a one-time experience; it’s a lifelong unfolding. The more distance we gain, the more clearly we see the contradictions, and perhaps the more tenderly we can hold them.
Grateful you took the time to read and reflect. Let’s keep the conversation going—there’s so much more to share, question, and unlearn.
Warm regards,
Kamlesh
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Aria Raina Kumar
Your story echoes how our views on India evolve with the country itself, ever changing and constantly adapting to fit the needs of the near future.
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Kamlesh Kumar
Hi SRK (Shah Rukh Khan)
Thank you for your kind words. You captured it beautifully—our views on India evolve alongside its own transformation. It’s a dynamic relationship, shaped by time, distance, and experience. I’m glad the story resonated with you, and I appreciate you joining the reflection.Warm regards,
Kamlesh
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Sarla Sumbly
I really enjoyed reading your article.
Thank you for being so open and honest with your memories. The way you described your return to India felt very real. I can imagine how much courage it takes to share these kinds of personal recollections.It’s true that the India you came back to was quite different from the one we see today. So much has changed over the years: new faces, different rhythms. But it’s amazing how some things stay the same. All those little nuances and contradictions you mention, I think they’re still here, quietly shaping everyday life even as everything else moves forward.
Thank you again for sharing your story. It’s a beautiful reminder of how India continues to surprise and stay with us, no matter how much it changes.
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Kamlesh Kumar
Thank you so much for your kind and thoughtful words. It truly means a lot to know the story resonated with you. You’re absolutely right—India keeps evolving, yet somehow its contradictions and nuances remain, quietly anchoring us to a familiar rhythm.
Sharing these personal memories wasn’t easy, but responses like yours make it feel worthwhile. I’m grateful it stirred reflection and connection. India does have a way of staying with us—no matter how far we go or how much it changes.
Warm regards,
Kamlesh -
Kamlesh Kumar
Aunty, I’m truly sorry if the part in my article about the police post came across negatively. That wasn’t my intention at all. I was simply sharing a personal experience and the emotions around it, not trying to reflect badly on the police force as a whole. I have deep respect for those who serve, and I regret if it felt otherwise. Thank you for understanding. 🙏
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Ashish Mittal
It’s really nicely written .. throughly enjoyed it
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Kamlesh Kumar
Thank you so much!
I’m really glad you enjoyed it — your words mean a lot and truly encourage me to keep writing. 🙏😊
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Bharti Tiwari
This is truly an honest and heartwarming write up Kamlesh.
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Kamlesh Kumar
Thank you so much!
Your kind words mean a lot to me. I’m really glad the honesty came through — it was written straight from the heart. 🙏
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Archana Patel
Amazing article. Very eloquently and descriptively written.
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Dr Sundeep Kaul
This is a thoughtful reflection on how idealized images of India often clash with lived realities, revealing both its beauty and challenges. It highlights the complexity of identity, the impact of early disillusionment, and the remarkable moments of community and organization that offer hope. certain experiences resonate strongly with my own – thank you for sharing