India is a country that makes travellers curious almost immediately, not because of its big monuments or guidebook highlights, but because of the everyday details that do not always make sense. Why is food often eaten by hand? Why do lemons and chillies hang outside homes and shops? Why does a simple cup of chai taste different every few kilometres?

These small moments begin to stand out as you move from place to place, inviting questions that do not always come with instant answers. It is in observing these curiosities, from greetings and rituals to customs that seem unusual at first, that you start to uncover the layers of India’s culture and character.

Why does India celebrate everything?

From harvests and changing seasons to gods, rivers and the rhythms of everyday life, celebration in India is deeply rooted in meaning.

Festivals offer a collective pause — a moment to reflect, release and begin again.

India’s calendar of celebrations speaks to its pluralism, shaped by Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, Jain, Christian, Jewish and Parsi traditions. Culture here is not preserved for special occasions; it is actively lived, shared and renewed throughout the year.

Why do South Indian women wear Gajra in their hair?

South Indian women wear gajra not merely as adornment, but as part of a living cultural practice. For centuries, flowers — especially jasmine — have symbolised purity, femininity and auspiciousness, thriving in the region’s climate and woven into everyday routines much like kumkum or hair oil.

The tradition also carries spiritual meaning. Flowers offered daily to deities find their way into the hair, extending devotion beyond the temple and into everyday life. At the same time, gajra serves a practical purpose: it helps secure traditional hairstyles, cools the body and leaves behind a soft, natural fragrance.

Above all, the practice reflects a belief that beauty is lived rather than reserved for special occasions. Worn to markets, workplaces and homes, gajra represents continuity, grace and an effortless connection to tradition.

Why do homes and shops hang strings of lemons and chillies at their entrances?

Lemon and chillies hanging outside homes and shops are a familiar sight across India, often puzzling first-time visitors. The practice is rooted in a mix of belief, ritual and everyday wisdom.

Traditionally, the combination is believed to ward off the evil eye — negative energy caused by jealousy or ill intent. In folklore, lemons and chillies are thought to absorb this energy, protecting both people and prosperity. The custom is also linked to Alakshmi, the goddess of misfortune, who is said to be appeased by the offering.

There is a practical dimension too. The sharp scent of chillies and the acidity of lemons were once used to deter insects, especially in busy markets and shopfronts. Over time, this practical solution became symbolic.

Replaced regularly, the lemon-and-chilli string marks renewal and protection — a small ritual that reflects how tradition in India often sits at the intersection of belief, function and daily life.

Why do Indians traditionally eat with their hands and serve food on banana leaves?

A leaf is laid. No cutlery, just food.

Hands sense texture, the banana leaf releases its aroma, and the act of eating becomes a fully sensory experience.

Rooted in South Indian tradition, banana leaf dining is finding renewed relevance in a world increasingly drawn to sustainable choices. Naturally biodegradable, hygienic and practical, banana leaves are rich in organic antioxidants and polyphenols that help fight free radicals.

Their natural wax coating subtly flavours hot food, while chlorophyll absorbed by rice enhances taste. Eating with the hands heightens awareness of texture and temperature, supporting digestion through touch and rhythm.

Vedic tradition holds that food served on natural materials and eaten by hand is more nourishing. The five fingers represent the five elements, creating balance and harmony across the senses and the digestive system.

Why do Indian homes begin the day with patterns on the ground?

At dawn, delicate designs appear at the thresholds of homes across South India. Drawn with rice flour, kolam is created knowing it will fade by evening — and that impermanence is central to its meaning.

Placed at entrances, kolam welcomes prosperity, positivity and protection, while signalling openness to guests and passersby. The rice flour also serves a purpose, feeding birds and insects, turning the ritual into a quiet act of generosity.

More than decoration, kolam is a daily, meditative practice. Its symmetry and repetition encourage focus and presence, reflecting a way of life where art, ritual and the everyday exist as one.  

Why do cows roam freely on Indian streets?

To visitors, the sight of cows navigating traffic can feel surreal. In India, it reflects reverence rather than disorder.

Cows are associated with sustenance and generosity, providing milk without taking life. Over centuries, this role elevated them to symbols of abundance, patience and maternal care. In Hindu philosophy, they are seen as living embodiments of gentleness and balance.

Allowing cows to move freely reflects a cultural ethic of coexistence — where life is accommodated rather than controlled.

Why do Indians touch the feet of elders?

Touching the feet of elders is a gesture of respect, not submission. It marks an exchange rather than a hierarchy.

In Indian thought, elders are believed to carry experience, wisdom and accumulated energy. Bending to touch their feet is a way of acknowledging that knowledge and seeking goodwill in return. The blessing received — often a hand placed on the head — completes the exchange.

It is a quiet ritual that reinforces gratitude, continuity and the passing of values across generations.

Why do Gujarati meals often include something sweet?

In Gujarat, even savoury dishes may carry a hint of sweetness. This is not accidental.

Sugar or jaggery is added to balance spice and acidity, creating harmony rather than contrast. The preference reflects a cultural inclination towards moderation, warmth and emotional comfort.

Here, sweetness softens the meal — and the experience of eating itself.

Why is footwear removed before entering Indian homes and temples?

In India, removing footwear before entering a home or temple is a gesture that goes beyond cleanliness. It marks a conscious transition from the outside world into a space of care, respect and intention.

Practically, shoes carry dust and impurities from the street. Leaving them at the threshold helps preserve the sanctity of the space within. Symbolically, the act signals mental arrival — a moment to slow down and be present.

In temples, the practice carries deeper meaning. Removing footwear represents humility, the setting aside of ego and worldly concerns before entering the sacred. Whether in a home or a place of worship, the ritual reflects a cultural belief that certain spaces deserve reverence, awareness and calm.

Why do men in Rajasthan wear turbans in such vibrant colours?

Each colour speaks.

Region, climate, celebration and identity are stitched into every fold.

Brought into prominence by the Rajputs in the 7th century, the turban became a symbol of honour, status, weather and occasion. Its form shifts subtly from place to place — wedding reds, mourning blues, desert whites, monsoon leheriya — changing every few kilometres.

Read closely, a turban becomes a map. It tells you exactly where you are.

What is the meaning behind the colours of Kathakali makeup?

Nothing is ornamental.

Each colour signals character and moral intent.

Green denotes virtue, red and black indicate demonic qualities, while softer yellows are reserved for serene, spiritual figures. From facial makeup to controlled movement, every detail serves the storytelling, rooted in ancient texts.

Why do monks wear red robes in North India and saffron in the South?

As the land changes, so do the colours.

Climate, culture and region shaped how devotion was worn, even as the path itself remained unchanged.

Early kasayas, the robes of Buddhist Sangha monks, were stitched from discarded cloth and dyed with bark and red clay, producing tones of ochre and reddish brown. Over time, dyes from roots, leaves, flowers and fruits defined regional palettes.

Saffron and orange came to symbolise the flame of the Buddha’s teachings and the burning away of ignorance, colours readily available in warmer climates where lightweight cotton robes prevailed. In contrast, monks in colder Himalayan regions adopted maroon woollen robes, while those in South India wear breathable orange cotton suited to heat and humidity.

Across regions, the robe remains a marker of simplicity and detachment from material life.

What is langar, and why is it shared by all?

You sit on the floor beside people you’ve never met.

The meal is identical. The space is shared. Status disappears.

Here, community is something you experience, not something that needs explanation.

Langar is a central spiritual practice within Sikhism. Every gurdwara operates a free community kitchen, serving freshly cooked vegetarian meals each day to thousands, without distinction of religion, gender or social standing.

Established by Guru Nanak Dev Ji during a period of deep social inequality, langar was created to embody equality, collective responsibility and seva, or selfless service. Those who cook and serve do so as an act of devotion; those who eat are regarded as the Guru’s guests.

Everyone sits together on the floor — rich or poor, powerful or marginalised — sharing food prepared in the same vessels. At the Golden Temple alone, more than 50,000 people are served daily, a living expression of humility, unity and inclusion.

Journeys often start with places.

The unforgettable ones begin with wondering why.

Each curiosity leads you closer to the rhythms of everyday India.

Enter, follow the thread, and watch meaning unfold.