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Published: December 7th 2007
A sunrise
Sunrise from the family terrace in DelhiI am actually writing this at home, at my desk, in Toronto, with the cold blue morning light reminding me that I am now back in a cold, northern country, having left the warmth and vibrant colour of India behind. I had every intention of writing travel blog entries while I was in India, from November 5-28, 2007 -- but I was too taken up with just being there. Socializing, experiencing, living and feeling that familiar sense of sensory overload India excels in, and that I find so addictive.
I remember reading somewhere about the sweetness of the first sip of your second martini. Likewise, returning to India for the second time for me was a sweetly sublime experience that I am still savouring. The first trip (Dec 2005 - June 2006) was like a magic carpet ride. I experienced all the sights, sounds and smells of India for the first time and fell in love with India -- and with Ajay and his beautiful family. And, of course, I also had to experience the steep learning curve that being in India entails. You have to learn how to negotiate taxi and autorickshaw rides; how
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It felt so great to be back on the family terrace in Delhi -- one of my all-time favourite places to handle beggars, con men, hawkers, touts, the curious; what to eat and drink, what to avoid; how to shop, how to bargain, how to try and prevent getting ripped off; how to deal with the traffic and crossing the road; the social etiquette; the modest clothing; the extreme weather -- and so much more.
But going back for the second time, I felt like an old pro. My second day there I was calling a cab and running off to one of my favourite markets in Delhi. Within days, I was meeting a friend for lunch, and having another friend (Kailish and his wife Mohini) over for lunch. I had left a suitcase full of Indian clothes there, so I had lots to wear. I have kept up with Bollywood (by watching OMNI 14) so I knew all the news and gossip. But most importantly, I felt completely accepted by Ajay's immediate and extended family. I really felt like one of the family and it was a wonderful feeling. They are the nicest, most generous and friendly people, and they really made me feel welcome. I had an empty cupboard waiting for me, for my clothes, and they
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The pigeons are fed every day, so they are contstant visitors made rice for me every day, though being North Indian they are bread (chapati, roti, naan and parantha) eaters. (I had trouble eating Indian breads when I was there before, and found out this past summer that I am allergic to wheat.)
Overall, it was much easier to be in India this time. And it was a different sort of trip, as I was there primarily for social and family reasons -- to celebrate Diwali (which is like Christmas for Hindus), to be part of the new baby's naming ceremony, to go to Ajay's cousin wedding -- and also to take a solo trip to Rishikesh to visit Vishva and Chetana in their new ashram and reconnect to the soul of yoga -- for I believe that is what Rishikesh is.
So, below, I will share with you the entries I wrote (but never posted) while I was in India. Occasionally, I would steal some quiet time alone, and sit on the terrace, usually in the morning while the family were just waking up, or in the late afternoon, and set up my laptop to do some writing. These ultra-modern devices -- like my new Nikon digital SLR
camera -- seem a bit out of place in India, which still retains a traditional air.
Delhi, November 8, 2007 The sun rises slowly on this sprawling Asian metropolis. The morning air is balmy as the city sounds begin to build. Traffic, of course, on the ring road three stories below the marble terrace where I have set up my yoga mat, camera and laptop. The ubiquitous Delhi car horn honking is still intermittent at this relatively early hour, but the promise of incessant cacophony and pre-Diwali gridlock is in the air.
A fresh breeze blows the sounds of the Muslim call to prayer from a not-too-distant mosque as I do sun salutations, facing the softly glowing morning sun. Soon the lyrical calls of the vegetable-wallahs drifts up from the road below, as they ride their bicycles through this residential neighbourhood. “Sabziiiii,” they call.
I feel refreshed, inspired and invigorated by this city, and the way it is lived - like all Asian cities - out in the open, in the streets and markets; on terraces and in extended family gatherings.
It is my third day here, this visit, and I am up early because
Div terrace
A view of the neighbourhood just before the sun went down of the jet lag. The first day I felt unwell, but an ayurvedic oil massage and sirodhara treatment helped. I lay on my back on the thick teak table and two dark-skinned women from Kerala, in the south of India, directed a flow of warm oil onto my forehead. I fell asleep, bathed in blissful oil and exhaustion. It was a perfect antidote to the rigours of a 21-hour trip.
I came to Delhi, this time, armed with several goals and tasks, including a shopping list, both for myself and friends. A gold-and-diamond nose pin was on the list, as I wanted to replace an inexpensive one that I bought last time I was in India, and which was missing a stone. On the plane, while washing my face, I managed to somehow lose my nose pin down the drain, so replacing it before the hole closed was one of my first orders of business.
I was therefore forced to go out into Delhi’s mad traffic. Delhi’s traffic is at its annual peak due to Diwali. Everyone is out shopping, visiting, dropping off sweets. Shopping during the run-up to Diwali, the raucous Hindu festival of lights, is a
Div diya
A diya (oil lamp) against the darkeing Diwali sky lot like going out on Christmas Eve for last-minute presents. Except that it is 30 C. And, this being India, people are generally both more daring in their attempts to negotiate traffic, and also much more even-tempered about the hold-ups.
So, jet lag and all, I headed off with Ajay’s Mom and niece, Varada, to the markets. We had to wait much longer than usual for a taxi, and when it finally did arrive, it was a white, 30-year old Ambassador driven by a young man with chin-length straight hair and a determined attitude towards diving into the intense, chaotic traffic. We had not made it more than a few metres from the house, to the corner, when we encountered our first traffic jam. The service road that runs along the front of the building was jammed, and it seemed impossible that we would ever be able break into it - especially given that it was barely moving.
Our driver finally chose his moment, when traffic coming from the right was held up, and after pulling into the middle of the intersection, the car engine stalled. It was a wild moment - streams of cars, bikes and motorcycles
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I was given the task of bell ringing throughout the Diwali ceremony in the family puja room coming at us from every direction in a frantic state of pre-Diwali determination. In most western cities, it would have been very stressful, perhaps even leading to road rage and a bad scene. But this is India. Ajay’s Mom and I looked at each and started laughing, which really did feel like the right thing to do at the time. And out of nowhere, several slim young Indian men appeared to gleefully push the car back into our road, and out of the way of the streams of traffic.
Several family consultations and the driver’s wrench-wielding adjustments to the engine later, we were on our way, first to Hauz Khas market for my nose pin and then on to Gautama Nagar for the Diwali decorations and gifts.
In Hauz Khas, Varada and I went into a small jewelry shop owned by her “mother’s brother’s daughter’s teacher’s cousin,” or something like that! Impossible to follow the intricacies of the Indian extended family-social network. Varada picked out a star-shaped diamond pin, which I bought due to her recommendation, but, alas, I had to exchange it a few days later for something much simpler as it was very uncomfortable (too big).
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Varada wore a gorgeous lengha for Diwali The market at Gautama Nagar seemed very traditional. I didn’t feel I was in Delhi at all. We seemed to have left all vestiges of a modern city behind. If I’d known, I would have definitely taken my camera. While Hauz Khas is a rather chic market, Gautama Nagar is composed of simple, dusty roadside stalls, set up near an almost-dry canal. Peering into the stenchy canal, I was surprised to see a family of wild pigs feasting on the garbage that was thrown there.
The stalls that seemed to have grown organically along the broken, winding street were crammed and overflowing with Diwali decorations and treats: Masses of figurines representing some of the main deities in the Hindu pantheon, huge open bags of savoury snacks - from which Varada freely snacking - boxes of incense, garlands of flowers. Everything needed to properly celebrate Diwali. I tagged along as Varada and Ajay’s Mom picked up bags of items, occasionally stopping to deposit them in the waiting taxi.
I really enjoyed the experience, already feeling like part of the family and having the amazing privilege of truly experiencing Diwali first-hand. I feel very honoured, and very lucky -
V with rangoli
... posing with the rangoli she made on Diwali I have long wanted to be in India for Diwali. I dreamt of it for years, never imagining that I would have a “ring side” seat as part of such a great family. I also loved watching Ajay’s beautiful mother, in her flowery chiffon sari, elegantly moving along the colourful, dusty, chaotic street. I think that was the moment I fully knew I was in India, again.
Delhi, November 9, 2007 Diwali. I write this at 5 pm and the sun as it descends is a glowing orange ball, neon-lit against the smoky light grey sky. Clouds of dark grey pigeons circle overhead, startled by every new Diwali blast. Sima, the house servant, is busy on the terrace filling “diyas,” tiny terracotta lamps, with oil. This morning, Varada, Ajay’s Mom and I decorated the house with garlands of orange marigolds. All over the city - all over India - people have been getting ready for tonight, buying sweets, exchanging gifts, cleaning their houses, buying new clothes, setting off crackers and fireworks and decorating their houses and businesses with Hindu symbols and flowers.
One of my jobs was to string garlands of marigolds across the top of the
Div M lighting
Ajay took this pic of me lighting diyas on the terrace paintings of Krishna, Sai Baba, Siva and Ganesh in the puja room at the back of the house. I had just woken, and hadn’t had my breakfast yet, and was feeling a bit faint with hunger and tension - I was so afraid I would accidentally knock over a deity’s image under the watchful gaze of Ajay’s Mom. Luckily, I didn’t commit any outrageous blunders, though my inexperience hanging garlands was more than evident.
In time, we finished the decorating and I was free for the rest of the day until early evening, when the puja was scheduled to start. I called Amrieka, who I met through Rebecca last time I was in Delhi. I took a taxi over to Chirag Enclave, a colony that is only about one or two kilometres away, but the taxi driver had to stop about 10 times before we reached.
Amrieka showed me the lovely house she lives in, which she called a modern haveli. It is primarily a private art gallery, specializing in modern Indian art. She has an apartment on the main floor, and manages the gallery. Together, we went to Great Kailash (GK) N-block market, one of my favourite
Div hallway
We lined the terrace and stairs, etc., with HUNDREDS of diyas markets in Delhi. Although it is a small market it has some very nice stores such as Fabindia and the Turtle Café and Bookstore.
Toronto, December 7, 2007 I didn’t write anymore about Diwali when I was in India. In a way, it was too overwhelming! India does nothing in half-measures. So, here's the rest of the Diwali entry:
After shopping and lunch with Amrieka on Diwali, we shared a taxi home, first to Chirag Enclave and then Panscheel Park. By the time I got home, it was almost dusk and excitement was in the air. Diwali was starting! Everyone in the house was running around getting dressed and ready for the evening’s activities. We started by gathering in the small prayer room at the back of the house for the family puja. This was the room was had decorated in the morning with garlands of bright marigolds. I sat down on the cushioned floor with the rest of the family for the ceremony, which was conducted by Ajay’s Mom, though we each had roles to play. I loved the puja - the chanting, the offerings, the feeling of family togetherness. I felt so much more involved
Div terrace night
Just some of the diyas that lined the terrace than I ever did in a church at Christmas; and so much more relaxed. It was my favourite part of Diwali.
After the puja finished, it was dark, and the fireworks, crackers and “bombs” were going off all over Delhi. As far as I know, there is no public display; it is all done individually - and people really go mad. We know of one family who spent $1,500 on fireworks. We went out onto the terrace where Ajay’s brother, Vijay, and one of the servants, a young man named Chotoo, lit various types of fireworks, some familiar to me and some new - like the one that swirled around the terrace floor sending off sparks and looking a little like a mini milky way. Most careened into the night sky to join the cacophony of sound and light that was the Delhi sky.
It was a surprisingly noisy night, as Delhi-ites seem to enjoy the very loud sound of “bombs” - a type of firework that makes a lot more sound than light. Perhaps even more than noise, the tremendous amount of fireworks produced extremely bad pollution. Ajay and I went out at about 10 pm, after
Div fireworks
Fireworks on the terrace dinner with thye family, to a party and we could barely see a few feet in front of the car due to the think smog, which was more like a very think fog. I read in the paper the next day it was the worst Diwali pollution in Delhi ever recorded (partly due to a low pressure system hanging over the city and keeping the smog in).
I remember standing on the terrace during the intense tumult of the fireworks display coming from all parts of the city and looking up to see a plane flying overhead. What Delhi must have looked like from the sky!
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