This week’s experiences that stand out:
- Remembering that India rewards people that go with the flow, we followed a maze of alleyways filled with stalls selling religious offerings, and ended up in a small but one of the most visited Hindu temples in Delhi, dedicated to Kali, the goddess of time and change. Hindus held back by security guards jostled each other for a glimpse through the window to the figures inside. With the help of these guards we were pulled through the crowds to have a peek and see devotees laying their offerings. How apt, I thought, as we go through this period of change, to be led there inadvertently
- There are a lot of stray dogs in India, mostly quite thin, dirty and covered in fleas with mangey patches of skin. Being a dog lover I often take pity on these little creatures lying in the street so when a little puppy begged for some food as we went through our nightly ritual of eating veg momos, I caved. I bought a couple of them, cut them up with my fingers and, making sure they were cool enough offered them to the dirty puppy. He looked at them and chose to nibble on a piece of rubber instead. He obviously can’t be that hungry I thought and it made me feel a bit better and that people were looking out for these dogs. Just to provide a balanced view, there are also lots of well cared for dogs in Delhi, European breeds, slightly overweight with collars and leads inevitably owned by the middle classes.
- With four big sponsors, including the Delhi 2010 Commonwealth Games and a large bank, the free Music in Nehru Park was a lavish affair surrounded by flowers and greenery with white leather sofas for the VIPs, and white floor cushions for the rest of us. Ustad Shahid Parvez is from seven generations of sitar players and I understand he’s pretty famous. It took a while to get into the style of music and take in the contrasting rhythms of the sitar and tabla, and for us to realise he had finished tuning up and doing his soundcheck and was actually performing his piece. All in all a pleasant evening and it reminded me of listening to the free music in Queen Square back home in Bristol.
- Last Sunday had been earmarked for a Gandhi Day, organised by Debs. First it was off to the Indira Gandhi museum in her former home and the place where she was assassinated in 1984 by two of her own Sikh bodyguards. It contains some of her personal belongings, press cuttings and photographs, plus the sari so was shot in, including blood stains. As security guards aggressively ushered visitors through the rooms, Indian families and groups of school children pushed past each other to catch a glimpse of the said sari and see more everyday items like the pot of pencils which used to stand on her desk. Our final Gandhi stop was to the house where Mahatma Gandhi spent the last 144 days of this life, before he too was shot in 1948. There seems to be an obsession with how both these important characters in Indian history died, with half of the Gandhi museum dedicated to his death rather than what he achieved whilst alive.
- Although it may seem trivial, I have to mention Iced Coffees. Delhi has been going through a heat wave. On Monday it hit 39 degrees Celsius, around 8 degrees hotter than it usually is in March. By the afternoon our rooms are filled with hot dusty air and Iced Coffees in the air conditioned Western havens of Cafe Turtle or Cafe Coffee Day seem our only respite.
- We are all in India for the next year, living and breathing Indian culture and trying to understand the complexities of society here, so books about India have been on almost everyone’s reading list. It was a real treat to hear some of the most well-known authors read from their Delhi themed books, including the Scottish Delhite William Dalrymple at an intimate Penguin Books event on Sunday night.
- And finally, after hearing our workshop yesterday was postponed, we decided to visit Sarojini market, infamous in Delhi for its cheap Western clothes sold as surplus or faulty goods. As we perused the stalls and bargained hard using our limited Hindi, twice all the clothes started dancing to the rhythms of something dodgy. As rumours of police circulated, entire rails, rows and bags full of Gap, Topshop and H&M branded tops were taken away. What was once a bustling side street, floor to the clouds of clothes, seconds later was empty bar a few unbranded goods.