There was a time when I wondered what kind of magnetic attraction cultural heritage and traditions exerted, enchantingly drawing people towards it – not that my wonder arose from an aversion towards it, but rather from the feeling of not being entirely aware of that push. Having not been assimilated into the unique facets of my culture, for an awfully long period of my life, I was unable to feel a genuine attraction to it or appreciate it in any way. I would later discover a metamorphic answer to my questioning thoughts: experiencing and celebrating our customs and traditions is the only means to understand the richness and meaning of our culture - an answer that came to me during a summer trip to visit my hometown. aunt in India. Truly, could there be a more appropriate and inspiring way to appreciate my heritage culture and traditions than an entire day spent exploring without limits my effervescent and ancient hometown of Delhi? It's hard to forget the atmosphere of the city during my extraordinary day out. It was a very hot day in mid-July, despite the day being young, when we left my aunt's house in a rickety rickshaw, headed for the bustling main street of Old Delhi. Swerving a few inches around pedestrians, the cheerful rickshaw driver took us through streets that were like gypsy ribbons with colorfully dressed women jostling against each other and a strong smell of dog urine emanating from the corners of the streets. The place was so boisterously loud – bicycle bells ringing, motorists honking, cows mooing – that I could barely hear my uncle's words from the rickshaw parallel to ours – yet it was surprisingly invigorating. After disembarking from our brisk ride, we passed the bustling toy stalls and gaudy ethnic fabric markets and indulged in a spit... in the middle of a sheet of paper... which, as I learned from my aunt , were equally important to me, because it educated me on more than just the history of architecture and the details of kurti design: it embodied how to look beyond the rubbish-strewn streets, polluted air and ever-present crowds , and savor the pure energy of the traditional environment that surrounds me. It was as if the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together and my visit to my aunt's house had managed to fill the cultural void I had always experienced. There are hundreds of definitions of culture, each longer than the last, but I am sure now that a true understanding of culture comes from the curious experience of it. For a long time I was a tree without roots, until my culture entered my life like a stream, teaching me lessons that sculpted my judgments and perceptions, they left replenishing my roots and growing within me. me..