Independence Day

Today's Indian Independence Day, and yesterday was the celebration of the birth of Lord Krishna. Thus we have had a three-day weekend. If than about it sooner, I probably would've liked to travel to a place called Rishikesh, in the foothills of the Himalayas. Alas, I only found out last week and the trains were full by the time I attempted.

So I decided to stay in Delhi and do some more sight-seeing here. Yesterday I went to Humayan’s Tomb, one of the largest attractions in New Delhi. I loved it! I must say that I have never been anywhere in which I was happier to see a bunch of white people than I was yesterday to see so many Europeans at the tomb. It simply signifies that people are accustomed to Westerners. The environment itself feels very safe and clean - and perhaps just as important, it was one of a few spots of quiet I have found so far in the city. The grounds are beautiful and lush, it is space to spread out and so plenty of time to stroll, to gaze… basically to just be. After the tomb, I went to another Delhi attraction – Connaught Place - a retail emporium. This I did not like at all and will not be back. Too much concrete, too many people. I am not necessarily the biggest one for shopping anyway. I wanted to go to this crazy old-school market in Old Delhi, Chandni Chok, much was just too tired and burdened by that time. I may try to go right after my massage on Sunday.

Although it is hard to record every instance of craziness, yesterday did have its share. The most crazy thing actually ended up being helpful. I'm a house of the tomb, I got into a random auto - this ought to a driver spoke fairly good English, but it seemed it to that of a special business dealings with all of these vendors in the city. I told him I wanted to be dropped off at Connaught Place, but instead he ended up driving me to like four different shops - the first of which was a super-expensive Emporium (though admittedly very posh, with a kind though insistent Muslim salesman who used a hint of flirtation to try to convince me to buy a scarf and kept putting his arm around my shoulder, to guide me back towards the shelf). The next place, specialized in tapestries downstairs and art and figurines upstairs. I actually did end up buying a small miniature painting, pictured somewhere on this blog. The next place he took me was a tourist office; actually it was a place where they book tours. We exchanged numbers, and I took their business card. It might actually come in handy when I decide to go to the Taj Mahal, since I hear it can be a little bit sketchy.

Next to the tourist agency there was another small shop, where I met one of my favorite people so far: a quiet, respectful, slightly shy-seeming young guy, who again spoke pretty good English. He works at this shop, apparently owned by his father: Banaras Cottage Emporium, Bhagat Singh Market, they specialize in “silk sarees, ready-made garments, branded shirts, T-shirts, jeans, trousers etc.” The shop itself was the kind that makes my imagination run wild, a Harry Potter-esque store, dark and dusky, though neat. Close and crowded and smelling like Indian spices as all stores do, with stacks upon stacks of garments neatly folded, but towering floor-to-ceiling. Mayank Aggarwal the salesperson was a lot less aggressive than most, but unfurled kurta after kurta and explain to me what constitutes a full female “suit,” how they create them to size based on each person's measurements, etc.. There were two small Ottomans in the shop, though one was broken, and I could just imagine the shopkeepers taking tea breaks in the middle of the shop.

I only bought one scarf, the cheapest one they had, but promised that I would come back when I feel up to the challenge of ordering a full Indian garment. I am sure that I want to wear one at least once or twice while I am here; I have been stunned at the percentage of professional women who wear traditional Indian dress… I just wonder if it is Mayank who would measure me… that would make me feel a little bit strange.

Finally bursting into the sunlight again, I found my auto driver – who, I would like to mention, was of the mustached, turban-wearing variety (More on that later) - waiting for me. At last he took me to Connaught Place and dropped me off. I left for home, about 15 minutes later!

The tour guide I had met and exchanged phone numbers with, last night became the second older Indian man to ask me out for tea or lunch “just so that [I] would not be alone.” The first one, by the way, approached me at Kahn Market and told me that I look like his friend except a different color. He offered to buy me a Coke at the McDonald's, which I declined by explaining that I was married. To which he replied “come on, I am not trying to sleep with you!” Needless to say, I found this man somewhat offensive and managed to gracefully refuse to exchange numbers with him. The tour guide on the other hand, has my number. But when he called, I tried my best to make it clear that I would call only in the case that I wanted his help arranging the tour.