Dazed in Delhi

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On our third day we drove to Iksha’s Uncle’s neighbourhood (Iksha is Grace’s second cousin) - he is a fun loving, luxurious man who loves Joanna Lumley (a fellow Kashmiri!) The neighbourhood was groovy with lots of coffee shops, bars and beautiful houses with lattice balconies. We headed to red fort, which was closed- like everything else in the city on Mondays- silly didis!!!! So instead we went to Humayan’s tomb which really gave Taj Mahal as it was another mausoleum. The lattice windows and ceiling carvings were beautiful. We even saw a man restoring the red paintings on the walls. Iksha had brought bananas so we posed like tourists and Hattie was a fashion model for multiple Punjabi families. One couple had traveled for three days from Kerala via train and were showing Hatts all their holiday pictures, especially the wife sitting in the snow in Kashmir. We’ve repeatedly noticed men with bright red beards or hair, which this lovely man was fashioning. Iksha told us that when the hair becomes white with age l henna is added. It pops and is so punk.

Then we tried to go to a temple where they had Sufi devotional singing but got a little lost in a market where lots of men were yelling trying to get us to take off our shoes. With our shoes firmly on our feet we retreated to the Habitat centre in our first tuk tuk ride of the trip! Iksha negotiated a good price, we were in awe of her badass attitude and incredible Hindi in the midst of about 10 different drivers, and we headed to the food court. We tried Chole Bhature and absolutely LOVED every bite. Grace’s new favourite food! Then we looked around an exhibition by Asha Thadani on outcasts from Indian society. We learnt there is an underground drag culture of Nachniya (female impersonators) part of the Musahar Dalit (untouchable caste). Within this caste they also have rat catchers or Musahar who rely on rats for sustenance as they can’t get employment and are the most marginalised caste even among Dalits. The Periyar community are professional mourners - when the village head dies they feel as though they themselves have died and the women express the pain of the community through constant weeping.

Tuktuk connoisseurs, we headed to Khan market. Beautiful bookshops, bars, coffee shops and clothes shops became our little Delhi soho. Grace bought a lovely burnt red smocked skirt, she was a happy lady. We then Ubered through heavy traffic back to the district Iksha was staying in for a nightcap with her and her uncle. Tapioca burger sliders and wine were the order of the day in a gentlemen’s club style bar, of which the outside did not match the interior. In this way it was like a speak-easy. Hattie’s chilled white wine cravings were satisfied, whilst Grace said she is never trying red Indian wine ever again. It was very sour! We trundled home and ate mattar paneer and chapati and fell into bed. Uncle and Auntie were maybe quite impressed we’d stayed out so late and navigated our way through so many areas of New and Old Delhi. Grace did her classic “closes her eyes and INSTANTLY fell asleep,” it’s so extreme that Hattie thinks she’s joking every time and gets very jealous of this magic ability, especially when we had an early morning the next day!

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