It starts with a casual observation that it's a busy intersection. Across the street is a giant red sandstone fort - aka The Red Fort - that would be a busy tourist attraction anywhere - making the crowd perfectly understandable.
A left turn away from the Fort into Chandi Chowk is like stepping into a gushing stream of people. Some of them have carts, rickshaws, auto-rickshaws and cars which only add to the chaos. The street is a sidewalk and the sidewalk is a street. People are living and dying in the middle and on the sides. The rabbit hole leads to places the Cheshire Cat wouldn't go - the raw edge of civilization.
Here, in the middle of businessmen walking along, the dismembered laying on retainer walls sleeping, and families going to McDonald's for a weekend treat - my alarm went off.
I don't like crowded, hectic places. I can tolerate them to a fair degree. But if the chaos factor rises too high or - most importantly - I'm touched too much, it's over. There, in the middle of the sea of chaotic humanity - my exact preconceived notion of India - something in my head went "Check, please!"
I am not good Delhi material.
So, we made our way back out, visited the Red Fort, and left. The Red Fort was built by the Mughals in the mid-1600's during the later part of the height of their massive empire in India. It is a cultural treasure. By the time we got to it, I was thinking, "It's big, it's red, it's a very impressive fort...amazing craftsmanship...let's go...."
The entire time, Emily just wanted to stand in the middle of it all and take pictures. She is happy to let the sea of chaotic humanity wash over her and to go for a swim. I admire her for it.
We made our way around town. We saw some Old Delhi. We saw some New Delhi. In our one weekend day we had for Delhi (today we go to Agra for a day trip), we wanted to get a feel for the place.
It wasn't the pleasant unfolding we experienced in Mumbai. It isn't Mumbai's tree-lined streets. It didn't have the kind people or amazing beauty of Kerala, it lacked the majesty of Rajasthan. Delhi is rough.
Instead of having interesting and pleasant conversations as we went along, I found myself saying things like, "Sir, no, we're not interested...Sir, please stop following me, we don't need anything, thank you."
My favorite conversation of the day just two doors down from our hotel:
"You need a taxi? Taxi?"
"No, not right now, but thank you. Perhaps soon...but not now."
"I have a taxi. You need shopping? I can take you to shopping. Shopping?"
"No, we don't need a taxi right now - but we will soon - we'll come to you when we do."
We walk away 100 feet. A minute later the same driver walks up to us...
"Sir, you need a taxi? I have a taxi?"
In a rather stern tone and very loudly....
"Sir, I appreciate your offer.... Thank you.... We know where to find you if we need you...."
Because he was so annoyingly aggressive, we went around the other way to catch a taxi a few minutes later when we needed one and a very nice, gentle old man got our business.
Unfortunately, the annoying taxi driver is typical to Delhi. I felt like I was fending off aggressive merchants and dishonest salespeople all day.
That's annoying. What's truly jarring about Delhi is the sheer volume of the sick and poor. As our auto-rickshaw taxi was stopped at a light, a boy came up to Emily's side of the taxi asking for money. His leg was amputated below the knee and he was covered in soot. Emily asked me to pull some money out of my pocket.
"He's missing a leg! I have to...I have to...." She was ready to cry.
What was worse about it to me is that the boy was very well rehearsed and didn't look particularly hungry. It made me wonder horrible things like is he one of those kids that begging rings purposefully maim to up his "begging value"? Did we just support child exploitation?
Giving money to an adult is easy. They're usually the end-recipient and worse comes to worse, they use it to buy alcohol. They usually only harm themselves.
Children shouldn't be allowed to be on the streets. Police officers see it, they know about it - they do nothing. There is no child protective services. Police don't have a mandate to bring abandoned kids into custody. Children on the streets are very often victims of crime and exploitation.
But when that kid with no leg is standing right there, it's hard to look the other way. It's also horrible to wonder what we might have furthered. Moments like that stand out the most.
While Old Delhi is raw and real, New Delhi is a trip to the surreal.
I have had many moments in India wondering how Britain - at the time a country of 20 million - could militarily overpower and colonialize a land mass of 283 million people. And they did it while holding colonies all over the globe. It sort of boggles my mind.
The British were successful and New Delhi was designed as a testament to their greatness. They built a new capital of their vast Indian Empire with might and grandeur displayed in large boulevard, beautiful buildings and monuments - the way the French kings displayed their glory in Paris. Only France is France. This is India.
Despite extreme poverty on Delhi's streets, and food shortages in various parts of the "empire", the British spent an extreme amount of money on opulent palaces, residences and government buildings.
The India Gate is a memorial to the Indian soldiers who died fighting for the British in World War I. It's beautiful. It's a proper tribute to people who gave their lives for people in other parts of the world for reasons that had nothing to do with India or its people. Pure Empire. To me, it's astounding.
More astounding is when looking up at the names inscribed on the India Gate, I noticed that the Duke of York's favorite horse was also listed among the fallen. He got tucked in there - on the second to last line below most of the Indian soldiers. I have no idea what to make of that.
Unlike Mumbai which has a synthesis of British influence and Indian life - Delhi seems like worlds strangely joined together under a harsh sky. One of foreign imperial grandeur that Indians have moved into and are trying to make their own and another which is the teeming, organic, raw and rough result of tumultuous history and poverty.
At least in the middle of town, there doesn't seem to be much in between.
I'm sure there are suburbs that strike a balance. Maybe even pockets of nice neighborhoods with human proportions that in our brief tour around the city we haven't seen. Being Los Angelinos we know what it's like to live in a city that can't be seen in a day, or even a week. If we visited Mohit and Shubhi's neighborhood, I suspect we would see a very different aspect of Delhi.
However, from what we have seen - which is most of what Delhi was for a very long time - I would say Delhi is like a Tootsie Pop: hard at first and after awhile, still tough to chew. For those who like their India rough and gritty with all the flavors of life - Delhi is the place.
People like me who like the "India Lite" of Kerala - we're not good Delhi people.
Sent from my iPad
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