"India is amazing. Have you been before? Do you know what it stands for?"

The elderly gentleman sat next to me on the plane was asking. I answered no to both.

"Unity in diversity is what it stands for. The greatest country on earth."

He was Indian so admittedly he was biased.

He went on to explain why it was so great; A country of 1.1 billion people, six major religions, 18 major languages, thousands of local languages, diverse peoples living harmoniously together. Not to mention the world's largest, secular democracy. Colourful, vibrant, exciting and so he went on.

It indeed sounded great and this added to my own already high expectations of ancient rituals, modern festivals, amazing food and welcoming people.

It's funny how wrong you can be.

In reality India is shambolic, chaotic, polluted, unhygienic, over-crowded and under-invested. And there's more power cuts than in post-blitz London.

Despite all my magical expectations of this weird and wonderful country, after four weeks it felt like an endurance test. By this I do not mean that I did not observe or experience any positive aspects while travelling here, I did, just not very many.

We began in Mumbai. Renamed so from Bombay in 1996 as part of an ongoing 'Re-Indianisation' of place names but curiously only ever referred to as Mumbai by Westerners, the Indians themselves preferring Bombay.

It is an intense, overwhelming city; population of 16 million people, and what seems like 116 million dogs, all crammed onto a small peninsula protruding into the Arabian Sea.

The first thing you notice is the division of wealth.

The city accounts for 40% of the entire nation's GDP, its skyline resembles a major western city and its film industry dwarfs that of Hollywood.

This, however, is strikingly juxtaposed.

It is surrounded by some of the largest slum settlements on the planet; countless people compete with dogs as they scavenge for food in roadside bins and skips.

Whole families wash in foul roadside gutters and sleep all over the pavements and streets, whilst others go by in expensive western clothes, mobile phones in hand, on their way to the cafes and cinemas seemingly oblivious.

This is a prevalent feature of India society; it is still very much entrenched in the caste system.

Upper and middle classes aspire to Westerner standards and ideals. They speak English fluently, they travel, and they mirror the lives of the television soaps and lifestyle magazines.

But while this educated and skilled sector operates as a closed clique, the lower classes, the vast majority, are apathetic. There is simply no opportunity for advancement, no social mobility.

A bus agent explained how his daughter's life was mapped out before her from the moment she was born, "University is not for people like us, education costs money. We know our place."

How much talent must be wasted and spoiled in this outdated, hierarchical system is anyone's guess.

This has the net result that poverty is commonplace, visible at every turn. Begging is endemic and although it is advised not to hand over any cash to street beggars, the sight of those disfigured and disabled pleading for money can be too much to resist. It is genuinely humbling. As there is no state assistance or benefits to help them, loose change or food makes a small difference.

Despite all this there appears to be absolutely no crime. No threat of crime nor fear of crime. There is little or no Police presence. A result perhaps of the strong religious imagery and beliefs of the population along with the noticeable value placed on family and community ties. It is admirable that such a large population, the majority of whom live in abject poverty, can live peacefully. People simply get on with their lives and it shows just how far into the 'nanny state' Britain has gone.

We travelled north from Mumbai visiting the states of Maharashthra, Madhya Pradesh, and Rajasthan before heading east through Uttar Pradesh.

But despite visiting the wondrous Buddhist, Hindu and Jain temples of the Ellora caves, the magnificent hillforts and castles of Rajastan and the greatest tomb on earth that is the Taj Mahal, it was the hygiene, or lack of it, that astounded me most.

I witnessed food being prepared in some of the dirtiest rooms I have ever seen let alone the dirtiest kitchens. There is primitive sanitation in urban areas and in rural areas sanitation facilities are non-existent. People openly defecate and urinate by the side of the road. There have been hotel beds where I wouldn't rest my backpack never mind my head and I've had my dinner presented with a thumbprint squarely in the middle of the food.

The lack of public services also plays its part.

Litter, refuse, household/human/animal waste simply lies where it has been dropped. It will stay there until a cow comes along to eat it, a dog comes to eat it, or more is dropped on top. Riverbeds, streets, woodland, nothing escapes.

Bureaucracy is multi-layer and drawn out.

Generally, several people do the job that one person could do quite easily. This can be in a restaurant where a waiter will ask for your order, another will write it down, a third will take the slip to the kitchen and a fourth will supervise the event.

Booking bus tickets is another ordeal, where your particulars will be noted many times, into many ledgers. This, I assumed, was to keep as many people in employment as possible, which can only be a good thing.

In practice, however, it leads to nothing more than chaos. Buses will go round and round in cities, picking up, dropping off, and picking up more. People get on at the wrong stop; people get off at the wrong stop. Some people have the wrong tickets, others have no tickets at all. Shouting, gesticulating, it can be more than an hour before the bus sets off en route.

"This country has the atomic bomb", I found myself thinking one night as I witnessed the once simple act of boarding a bus being turned into a free for all in the gangway in front of me.

But the vastness and indeed greatness of the country can be matched only by the multitude that can be written about it.

And this will always dwarf any of my negativity.

-------------------------------

"Do you know what India stands for?" I was being asked the exact same question four weeks later. This time by our Nepalese trekking guide. I explained that I still couldn't work it out.

So he told me, "India -- I'd. Never. Do. It. Again."

That's about the closest yet.