Ian Cochrane was prepared for India. His nostalgic imaginings commingled with 1967's Summer of Love - gurus, tie-dye and cheesecloth-clad women with flowers in their hair, youthful bearded men in patched jeans and psychedelic headbands.His guidebooks: an ancient, dogeared map bequeathed by his Scots grandmother, who always longed to see the Taj Mahal, and a remembered school atlas frozen in the days of the British Raj.Little did he know. In the summer of 2007 he arrived for a working stint in the 'new' India - the largest democracy in the world, and a population figure fast overtaking China.He touched down in the mixed-up metropolis of Mumbai, with its 20 million souls, the most horrendous traffic in the world and the largest slums in Asia. Not to forget cricket gods, Bollywood and billionaires. He was greeted by white-robed Jains, black-burka'd Muslims, a salmagundi of turbans and Nehru caps, and a god at every turn. The backdrop was crammed with churches, idols, towers and temples. He came across technicolor characters and soaked up their stories as he wandered Mumbai and beyond to Delhi, the Taj Mahal, the Godavari River, Ajanta, Ellora, Agra, Nasik and Goa.