Leaving behind the safety of a trusted uber driver in India can certainly be daunting. Also exhilarating, exhausting and sometimes it's a guarantee of going nowhere at all.
More often than not, it's a very reliable way to end up exactly where you didn’t plan to be, with expanded horizons and unexpected treasures.
Chasing bling, I ditched traffic jams in Mumbai and joined the locals. It's always been a dream of mine to ride the trains in India, fuelled by stories of impossibly crowded carriages and relentless hustle.
The reality was… pleasant, clean, efficient, friendly.
A few of us enjoyed nearly getting our heads knocked off by Mumbai Metro.
A Hijra offered me her blessing — part of India’s long-recognised third-gender community. She caught my photographer’s eye for all the right reasons: statement jewellery, a meticulously draped red sari, and a quiet poise. She moved through the carriage with grace, presence without performance.
I was gifted the chance to take a few portraits, some of my favourites. It’s hard not to take good photos in India; for Western eyes it’s visually overwhelming in the best possible way.
But great photographs aren’t about colour or chaos, they’re about connection.
The eyes have it.
A similar Souljrny mission a few days later took my daughter and I to Chandni Chowk, Delhi’s old city, and straight into peak tuk-tuk, a chaos that defies language, common sense, even my photography skills. You had to be there!
The noise. The horns. The heat.
The tuk-tuks! Thousands of them.
Steel-wrapped limousines with delusions of grandeur, some showroom-special and lovingly painted, others at death’s door, clearly eyeing the graveyard.
Thundering machines growling and backfiring as they push through like irritated animals. Best to always keep your hands and knees inside if you’re fond of them.
On this occasion, our beast felt like a three-wheeled survival pod.
Other forms of travel are just as slow but less beastly, they glide along and traffic tends to get out of the way, a sign of respect, or is it common sense - perhaps both.
Transport options in India is never just one thing, it’s trains, camels, elephants, rickshaws, lux first class, second class and not-so-lux classy, supercars, stretch limousines, often you simply have to walk, unless your a youthful skaters carving fresh lines across ancient holy trails like this one by the Ganges - old meets new.
From limo to loco all in one afternoon. India is never one thing, it insists on being all of them at once.
And thats how we met Rishi.
Rishi quickly became our driver, guide, translator, fixer, navigator of chaos, and all-round good human. He threads traffic like a chess grandmaster, calmly, precisely, always three moves ahead, but what really sets him apart is what happens when the engine stops.
Between pickups and drop-offs, Rishi feeds the street dogs.
Once you notice the street dogs in India you see them everywhere, curled under carts, weaving through traffic, asleep in doorways. Some lucky individuals wait and listen for the sound of Rishis two-stroke as it turns the corner, and run to meet him.
Rishi simply shows up. Pulls out a few stainless steel tiffin bowls, grabs the cool milk from under his seat, and he feeds them.
There’s no performance here. Just responsibility.
Which brings us, inevitably, to the tote bags and Jodhpur shawls.
They are sourced for Souljrny exclusively by Rishi.
They aren’t souvenirs. They’re practical, beautifully pieces that happen to carry a story,
We’re unashamedly selling these tote bags to support our mate Rishi and his mates, the four legged variety. Not charity. Shared value.
Consider it an invitation to slow down, notice more, and carry a little kindness with you, preferably over your shoulder.