Chaos

George Skinner

As I sit atop the Hotel Emirates rooftop, having donned my funky Kolkata pants, surrounded by young men with equally funky pants, I think back on my struggle several days back to imagine the place I would soon be subject to. I now understand there is no preparation for this environment. There is everything, and everything is everywhere. Every sense has been overwhelmed; our eyes are filled with images of life and motion, ears barraged by the incessant horns and shouts, noses assaulted by the fragrance of street side food vendors, sewage and freshly dead meat, tongues given diverse samplings of rich Indian cuisine, and skin brushes past vibrant people and buildings both populous and derelict. It is as if the city had gotten bored of being defined and chose to become the embodiment of all things passionate and living. 

In asking the resident school Chronicle editor Michael "The" Derevianko how to conclude this blog, I was told to perhaps summarise the chaos. To do this would I think be impossible. Numerous times I have been told about the energy and atmosphere of this place, yet here I am, attempting to acclimatise to this environment which has left me both physically and mentally breathless. This chaos cannot be summarised.