1.4 billion, minus 2 — fatpaparazzi.com.au

The forty minute flight back to Dehli was eventless enough until nearing our final descent. With a huge thunderstorm off the port-side windows we were forced to circle the airport for another 2 hours. On a low cost airline we had no water, no food, a seat pitch of 28 inches and the chickens had somehow managed to escape the overhead lockers. Waiting for our bags we tried in vain to purchase any refreshment from the vending machines. Broken. We’d just about had enough, yet another cog in the machine of chaos that is India.

If at all possible the airport was even busier than last experienced and we were met by yet another guide and waited to be shown to our driver. Reminiscent of our first hour on Indian soil we waited impatiently, and apprehensively for the ensuring calamity.

Our final night was programmed to be at the same shitty hotel in Delhi we’d already spent three uncomfortable and sleepless nights in. Definitely the worst hotel over all, the food was marginally better but the facilities were lacking. It’s not until you can’t go outside that you really miss things. As previously mentioned we’d jumped online to book an alternative. Somewhere with an outdoor pool, late check out and preferably less than a 2 hour drive to the airport. We found the Raddison, a 6 star hotel in Aerocity offering all of the above and grabbed it with glee.

With a feeling of dread, we waited for a new driver contemplating just how to communicate the change in accommodation. The wait seemed interminable with our patience all but exhausted…until from around a corner did we see the calm and welcoming face of our man Ganache who swiftly drove us out of the chaos onto our new digs.

Our flight home the next day wasn’t until 9:00pm giving us a full day left in Delhi - hence the hotel upgrade. We had one final thing to do and negotiated a tight deal with Ganache to take us back to the previously missed India Gate precinct in the morning. The India Gate is a war memorial located on the Kartavya Path forming part of the "ceremonial axis" of New Delhi. Amidst the hustle and squalor of chaotic Old Dehli this vast area is the complete opposite offering travellers much needed respite. Ganache took us through the nearby international embassy row with its broad avenues and sweeping manicured gardens adding even more tranquility to our relaxing day. Here the cars actually stayed within the lane marking and stopped at intersections. The morning too was clearer with the sun burning off any remaining haze and we parked up allowing 2 hours for our final wander. The main arch stands as a memorial to the 84,000 soldiers of the British Indian Army who died during the First World War. It is flanked by long canals running parallel to the Kartavya Path leading all the way to the Presidential Palace to the west.

This to us seemed the perfect end to our Indian adventure and a lasting, fond reminder of a city that can otherwise be extraordinarily overpowering. We returned to our hotel and parked ourselves poolside to drink beer and eat Sushi Indian style. Securing a 6:00pm checkout left us for the first time on this tour, seemingly in no hurry.

India is as amazing as it is challenging with nothing coming easily or as expected, but we were ready to go home. The conscientious and faithful Ganache arrived at the appointed hour and returned us to the airport in record time. We slipped him a few thousand rupees for his effort, monopoly money inconsequently having no monetary value at this stage. He’d been a stalwart, with the little grin he occasionally let escape his calm face speaking volumes to the humour and care he’d shown us during our time together.

One positive of a pre-programmed tour like this is the knowledgable guides and their friendly nature. They organised all tickets and entry details for every attraction, provided the very small tips for various things when needed and told us when to tip otherwise and how much. They explained every detail of every building together with stories of Maharajahs and Emperors bringing them to life. We tipped them all extra rupees, for along with Ganache, they made the journey almost seamless which otherwise would have been a lot more challenging for us alone.

Did everything go to plan on this adventure? Well, not entirely. There were mishaps galore and obstacles unexpected, but within those were dozens of gems that will stay with us forever. Walking through the dimly lit carpark at Delhi Airport on day one put Lyndall completely out of her comfort zone for possibly the first time in her life, but she survived. Visiting numerous gargantuan forts knowing very little about Pre-British Indian history and being totally blown away by the magnificence of the structures and architecture was unexpected. Finding a modicum of spirituality on tour was wanted, looked for at times but maybe not really expected, but it was found.

Walking through spice markets with eyes and ears streaming from chilies. The crowds. The noise. The squalor. Then the grandeur, the elegance and the beauty of other parts of the country. Riding those majestic elephants up to the Amber Fort in Jaipur will never again be experienced, nor will the first sighting of The Taj Mahal that weakened every cell in our body. The world went away when we first laid eyes on her. The Baori Stepwell on paper looked amazing, and in actuality life altering. We have seen nothing like it ever, and probably never will. The Ganges, the spiritual home of Hindis, Muslims, Buddhists and Sikhs harmoniously celebrating life and death. We all have a lot to learn. Our spiritual decompression began within the confines of the beautiful Pink City of Jaipur and continued hourly until our take off from Varanasi and return to normality.

But as photographers the standout were the colours of India. They are as erratic as consistent. A staple in an otherwise grey and sometimes bleak environment. The people celebrate with it, adorn themselves in it, build their world around it. When visiting it’s evident everywhere, you see it without really noticing it forming part of the culture. It is part of the appeal of this wonderful country as diverse as it is populated. But on collation of well over 10,000 images, when reviewing them to tell a story, a story emerged of a country so rich sometimes it was lost in the madness.

This may be the first holiday where on the final day we were relieved to be heading home. India is a lot. It’s smoggy, it’s crowded, it’s chaotic. It takes way too long to travel anywhere - by foot, car, Tuc Tuc or aeroplane. The food though was magnificent and the people, albeit far too many of them, were mostly endearing and welcoming. But we’d had enough.

It’s been a few months now since our return and the feelings India stirred still flow strongly. Do we feel different, hell yes. As we sit here typing our journey, curating and describing all the wonderful experiences, we realise we didn’t leave India - it came home with us.