Exploring Delhi
This short post is about our first full day in Delhi, India.
After watching election returns all morning, we went out to explore a very little bit of Delhi. Even in a few short hours, some of my negative preconceptions were challenged by direct observation. My overarching belief that India is a vibrant, emerging economic powerhouse was strongly reinforced.
Based on a lifetime of hearing travel horror stories, my uninformed expectation was that the street corners of Delhi would be filled with beggars. I expected that we would be traumatized by the sight of leprous stumps and sadly deformed children pressed into view on the glass of our car windows.
In reality, we did see a small number of people begging, and they rapped insistently on the windows at long stoplights. But it was a very small number, and they didn’t look unhealthy or malnourished. Our guide strongly discouraged us from giving money out the window, suggesting several non-profits that we could donate to which help poor Delhites. Thankfully, our kids seemed to understand, and were OK ignoring the rapped appeals. Zola did see someone defecating on the sidewalk as we drove past, and this seemed to really shake him up for a while.
Our first stop was the giant Red Mosque. Unlike most of the mosques we saw in Morocco and Turkey, this was wide open to anyone willing to take off their shoes, Muslims and non-Muslims alike. We walked past a big pile of slippers and sandals (most of the sandals were Ecco brand, indicating American tourists between ages 50-70).
The mosque was built in six years, starting in 1650, and is austere and huge and beautiful. The red sandstone walls are inlaid with white marble in simple repeating patterns. The minarets and the onion-shaped domes are uncomplicated, and they harmonize Arabic and Hindu architectural styles. The big outdoor square of the mosque, and the flights of stairs leading up to it, are all marked off with white lines. On busy days, this mosque attracts up to 20,000 worshipers, and the grid markings help to organize people into orderly lines.
Market streets of Old Delhi
After the mosque, we took an hour-long tour through the market streets of Old Delhi by bicycle rickshaw. Somehow all four of us squeezed into the seat, with Zola facing backward. The streets of the market district are very narrow (10-12 feet wide) and crowded. The river of pedestrians and rickshaw traffic (with the occasional scooter or small vehicle thrown in) flowed quickly and with great purpose. Occasionally, at an intersection or bend, the flow would stop momentarily, then sort itself out and press onward. The spectacle was intense, but exciting. Unlike the medina of Fes , which was crowded, but had little economic activity and only limited ambling movement, the shops and streets of the Delhi market area were bursting with high-speed commerce and motion. Most shops were filled with customers, and every person on the street seemed to be rushing to make a delivery or accomplish some errand.
Overhead, the three-story buildings, made of all conceivable materials, created a canyon criss-crossed with dozens of electrical and telephone wires. We saw a small monkey dance across the wires above our heads.
As he rode along, facing backward, Zola kept up a running commentary about what he was seeing, and how crazy and exciting it all seemed. Tallulah mostly stood on my lap, delighting in the glory of it all. As in many of the countries we have visited thus far, Tallulah’s blonde hair attracted a lot of comment and attention. A group of young boys ran alongside us for a while, snapping her picture and pointing to their own heads.
We all felt exhilarated and pleasantly overwhelmed by what we saw on the rickshaw tour. I was surprised that only about 15% of Delhi’s population lives or works in Old Delhi. 85% of the city lives in more modern conditions whether tenement, apartment, mansion or suburb.
We finished our afternoon by walking around the ministry buildings and the Presidential Palace. These buildings were designed in 1911 to house the British colonial offices. They looked as if a mustachioed Edwardian might emerge at any moment to ask for a gin and quinine water (or some Grey Poupon).
The sunset was spectacular, and we looked down the long-straight Rajput walk at the Gate of India, shimmering in the haze.
This evening, we had dinner with a professor of modern Indian history. Both kids, still on Japanese time, slept soundly through dinner. Professor Sethi was wonderful, genteel company, and he provided thoughtful, learned answers to all of our rookie questions. My head is now spinning with facts about independence and partition, and with his detailed observations about the caste system and about contemporary Indian society. The power failed three times during dinner, creating an awkward silence in the restaurant for 10-15 seconds, until the generators switched on.
We are excited to go out and to continue exploring. I can’t believe I have lived more than 40 years without spending time in this spectacular country. On to Jaipur.