Delhi in My Nose: A Solo Woman’s First Steps Into India
Two Days in Delhi
Thursday, July 31, 2025I never intended to "do India." There was no bucket list, no Eat Pray Love fantasy. My sights were set on Bhutan, an elusive, cloaked destination cloaked in mist and bureaucracy, and harder to reach than most these days. Flights are scarce, and the landing in Paro is scary; access is restricted, and tourism is tightly controlled. That’s what drew me in.
But if you’re going that far, skipping India is like flying to Paris and avoiding bread. You can’t treat India like a stopover. It’s not an extra. It’s a continent’s worth of culture wrapped into a single, riotous country. And I’ve always been drawn to that scale — the history, the architecture, the food, the noise, the impossible density of it all. So I carved out time. I went solo. Not to prove anything. Just because I prefer to move at my own pace.
Where It All Hit Me
Delhi hit me like a freight train. There’s no gentle arrival. It’s full contact from the moment you land. I touched down early in the morning, got into a hotel taxi, and stared out the window. The city woke up around me, a living organism of honking cars, open fires, wandering dogs, cows, and unfiltered humanity.
Once at the hotel, I hired a taxi for a full-day tour. I had my plan and I stuck to it: Red Fort, Jama Masjid, Humayun’s Tomb, India Gate, Lotus Temple. All beautiful. But it was what happened between the monuments that stayed with me: tuk-tuks zigzagging through chaos, roasted peanuts sold in traffic, people asking for money, the constant waft of incense, spice, and exhaust. Delhi isn’t subtle. It comes at you from every angle.
My anecdotes:
At the Red Fort, I joined the foreigners’ queue. A guard eyed me and said, “Wrong line.” I explained I wasn’t Indian. He laughed and said, “Put on a saree, you could pass for one!” It was said with warmth, and we both laughed. India has a way of pulling you in, sometimes before you realise you’ve crossed the line.
Humayun’s Tomb was a favourite. Quiet, grand, haunting. However, schoolchildren ran around in uniformed chaos, but the space absorbed the noise. Red sandstone, white marble, Persian-Mughal symmetry, it’s the first true garden tomb in India. A prototype of grandeur. And in its stillness, I found space to just be.
Image: Humayun's Tomb Profound Mughal artistry, a tranquil and stunning escape.
Image: Tasting Indian Street food on a food tour highly recommended
Getting Lost in the Market (and Spice Clouds)
I took the metro one stop to Connaught Place. While walking around, a local struck up a conversation — friendly, curious, and insistent that I skip the tourist routine and visit a nearby market. I took the bait.
Connaught Place is a collision zone. Street hawkers, high-end boutiques, government suits, and barefoot kids selling bangles. I watched it all from a bench with a bottle of water and the vague thought that maybe I’d already seen the best of Delhi.
The market wasn’t on a map. “Just follow this road,” he’d said. I did. About fifteen minutes in, I noticed people turning into a tight alley, so I followed them. That’s when the city folded in on itself.
It was a maze, narrow lanes barely wide enough for a car, yet still somehow hosting cows, bikes, tuk-tuks, and a swarm of pedestrians. Pavements were buried under fabric stalls, snack vendors, piles of books, glittering bangles, plastic toys, and fruit carts stacked with all the fruits I like. Every corner looked the same. No signs. No directions. No logic. Just colour and life.
Would I find my way back to the hotel? I wasn’t worried. The metro line was visible above. Worst case, I’d follow it to the next station. That was the plan. I bought mangoes and a fried lentil snack I couldn’t name, cooked on the spot, looked fresh, but thinking this is not health inspector-approved, but worth it.
Street food and Akshardham Temple
Heading back to the Metro Station, I realised I was closer than I thought to the hotel, so I just walked back. I had just enough time to regroup before heading out again for a street food and spice market tour.
That tour delivered. We wandered through more narrow lanes, ducking under electric wires and pausing for chai and snacks at stalls that looked so old. The spice market was another level: the air thick with cumin, cardamom, turmeric, dried chilli, like stepping into the nose of India itself. One deep inhale and I was coughing, eyes watering, unable to stop. So was everyone else. No one was immune. It was messy, vivid, ridiculous. The kind of moment travel gives you when you stop trying to curate the perfect experience and just let it all in — unfiltered, unexpected, unforgettable.
Akshardham: Beauty Behind Barricades
Once done, I decided to visit Akshardham Temple. I’d seen a photo of it at the hotel and thought it looked surreal. It delivered.
It’s one of the largest Hindu temples in the world, a sprawling complex of statues, carvings, gardens, and a boat ride through 10,000 years of Indian history. But what struck me most was the ban on cameras; you have to leave your bags at the entrance. Not optional. Strictly enforced. This wasn’t about security alone; it was about presence. The kind of presence you can’t fake is intimate, personal, and perfect.
Image: Sensory overload at Delhi's Khari Baoli spice market!
India Doesn’t Care if You’re Comfortable. That’s the Point
India isn’t easy. But that’s not a flaw. It’s the entire reason you go.
Especially as a solo woman in her 40s, 50s, or beyond, the point isn’t easy. It’s immersion. We’ve earned the right to get lost, to take up space, to choose discomfort if it leads us to something real. Delhi didn’t welcome me with open arms. It knocked me sideways. And I’m grateful for that.
Want More? You’re Not Done Yet.
If you’re a solo woman with a valid passport and an untamed heart, this journey might be calling you, too. This is just the beginning — there’s more to come from Darjeeling, Sikkim, Bhutan, the Golden Triangle. No polish. No gloss. Just the truth as it happened.
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Image: Delhi's grand arch- India Gate. oh not Paris!