As I was walking down one of the busiest streets in Jaipur yesterday, a rickshaw (tuk-tuk) driver pulled to the side of the road – a common, daily occurrence. It happens wherever I go, at all times of the day. As a white person in India, I am constantly asked if I need a ride anywhere, want a tour around the city, or a number of other services. I’ve gotten used to brushing these people off without much thought, and carrying on my way.

So when the rickshaw driver first pulled over next me, I gestured with my hand that I wasn’t interested in a ride and kept walking, ignoring what he was saying. After several more attempts to catch my attention, I finally turned my head to hear what he had to say. In a perplexed curiosity, the man said to me:

“My friend, you look Indian. How you become this?”

I was incredibly shocked. The man wasn’t asking if I wanted a ride, wasn’t haggling me for anything. He simply was impressed and interested by my demeanor. I was honored an excited – wow! After living in India for four months, I’ve officially embedded myself into the deep crevices of this culture. It’s a hard-earned respect.

Admittedly, one could attribute this man’s curiosity to my mighty mustache, or even the Bagru block-printed shirt I was wearing. But, I don’t think that explains it all.

He said I “looked” Indian, which of course can be attributed to my appearance. After all, I’m a short guy, and I’ve lost all my muscle mass; now, I’m a frail vegetarian whose body mimics the Indians I live amongst.

However, that doesn’t answer the man’s question: “How did you become this?” The man wasn’t just commenting on what I looked like. He was commenting on how I acted.

There is a certain behavior, a flow, a chaos, which I now deeply understand and feel part of. There’s a level of comfort that is required in order to navigate India, its people, and streets – the sounds and color – to fully recognize that everyone is a piece of the puzzle. Together, the masses of people, animals, trash and street vendors – we all make the ‘beauty’ that people come to India to see. It’s for this reason that I never recommend seeing the numerous temples and forts in Jaipur, (sorry) but instead walk down the streets. Try, at least, to be a part of the tumultuous flow – don’t just take pictures and email home about it.

I’ve developed a swagger. This isn’t any type of swagger I can relate to anything back home. It’s not the type of swagger that Kanye and Justin Bieber have; it’s a swagger that isn’t learned – only lived.

My swagger blends in with the dirt and dust that covers each and every Indian street; it makes me disappear into the backdrop of the hustling scene. I am proud of this swagger, as it cannot be taught. It’s developed through an astute observation of cultural nuances, small things that are unspoken and unrealized by the local people.

Now, I not only “look” Indian, but I feel it as well.