George and Carol in India: Zen And The Art Of Negotiating Delhi

These notes and most of the pictures were written/uploaded almost a week ago--uploading pictures takes forever. We have been so busy I'm only now getting around to posting. I'll try over the next day or so to reflect and document with pictures what we've been up to this past week--one of the most memorable of our lives.

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Yesterday (I wrote on September 8) was exhausting. Sunil pushed us to our limits, but the candle, as they say, was worth the flame. We're learning about neighborhoods--particularly how Delhi's ancient past is often uprooted, seldom understood, and frequently ignored, even as it lives in the midst (or often below) Delhi's present. Coming from the US where "old" is clearly seen differently than it is here, we're constantly struck by how the ancient and the modern (as well as the rich and the poor) live in what we see as jaw-dropping contradiction, but many in the city take with hardly a pause.

We saw how Delhi's "first city" Qila Rai Pithora, has been romanticized, decontextualized, and it's moat and gate turned respectively (but not respectfully) into a drainage ditch and a tourist attraction. We visited a sufi shrine in the forest near Sunil's Saket neighborhood and were granted a rare visit inside a centuries-old mosque that abuts the largest shopping center in the city (Sunil was in ecumenical heaven when we walked into the mosque courtyard, not knowing how we'd be received, and were told we could come inside after prayers--including our large contingent of female students--no pictures here, of course).

After being greeted enthusiastically inside by about a dozen young boys who shortly got down to their studies--chanting/singing the Quran as they swayed in unison--we left with a deeper appreciation that Islam is not monolithic and a new spirit of ecumenicism seems to be asserting itself in Delhi--at least at this mosque. Following a stroll through the big new mall (that looked just like every other big new mall in the world) we walked outside and into a huge bazaar that went on for blocks and again, could not have been any more different than the sanitized, franchised, redundancy of the big new mall--I'm working on a theme here folks.

Finally after approximately 4 hours of walking and close to 15 miles of travel (my pedometer broke the third day here, so I'm just guessing:), we arrived at the home of Sunil and Anjali Kumar. They hosted us to an unforgetable Indian meal and everyone had a blast. We got home about 11 or so and everyone (by this morning's accounting) fell fast and deeply asleep, but all showed up for our 10 a.m Hindi lesson with renewed energy and vigor.

After class today, Carol and I took off on our own neighborhood adventure. Auto-Rickshawing first to Connaught Place to exchange some travelers' checks (kinda got scalped on the exchange rate) and then lunch--shared with a most gregarious Bengali journalist who was desperately missing his young daughter--off with her mother to tend to a sick grandpa--and who introduced himself by observing that I must be a father and who would therefore understand how lonely he was. What followed was a 15 minute conversation about social injustice in India and an articulation of his fear that the caste system, having institutionalized inequality, was a permanent barrier to any hope of ever seriously addressing India's poverty and her oppression of children and women. Getting no argument from us, we exchanged email addresses and our parting shot that we tended to agree with his somber assessment, but hoped we are all wrong!

Then onto the adventure. Looking for an establishment called Mittal's Chai emporium--reputed to have every kind of tea produced in the known universe and all the pots, kettle, cups and other tea stuff that make tea afficianados drool. Now many of you know Carol, and you know she has a well deserved reputation as a navigator of remarkable skill. Carol is one of those people who enjoy maps--she likes looking at them, believes they are helpful and actually uses them. Today, despite her tendency to believe the map is the territory (similar to a certain hiking buddy of mine who also is a bit of a map fetishist) we got completely and hopelessly lost. Much to her credit--because, as we're told by some gender communication scholars-- she is a woman and not afraid to ask for directions (unlike those of us plumbed differently who, we are likewise advised, are afraid to ask for directions because to do so would be a form of self-emasculation)--she asked for directions a number of times. Because I don't like to emasculate myself publicly, and I AM the chronicler, I stood respectfully by and took notes or pictures and commented after each query how remarkable it was that despite living in the same neighborhood, not one of the 4 or 5 people she asked gave anything resembling the same answer. "Oh, yes madam, Mittal's. I know it well, across the street and there, on the left. That's right just there on the left." "Mittal's, umm, down that street, right at the light and then left, can't be far now." and "Mittal's? Yes madam we have some very fine teas here, just inside, here, I can show you."

Sorry Judy, we never found it.

So Sunil, what have we learned? First, don't cash your travelers' checks at an "authorized American Express Exchange Post." Second, yes you can make friends quite easily in India and sometimes it happens when you least expect it. Third, even experienced navigators can get lost in the labrynth that is Delhi, and sometimes even more so if they ask for directions. Fourth, you see the damndest sights on Delhi's streets. Fifth, Anjali is a very lovely person (as are you) and your wit, insight, and grace help all as we try and make sense of this very exciting and mysterious place you call home. Finally, in India, you take your Zen where you find it--even if you have to do it without tea.

And now for your viewing pleasure, far too many pictures, but each one suitable for framing.

Qila Rai Pithora