Delhi Bound

Thursday night, after about 3 hours of sleep, we arose at 2:30 am and left for the Chennai airport, where we'd fly to Delhi, the capitol of India. Walking into the airport at four in the morning, one would expect the quiet hum of activity as we checked in. Instead, we were met with unearthly laughter of an insane man shaking on the ground and shrieking in Tamil. He was carried out a few minutes later, leaving a slightly shocked audience behind. And that was the most exciting thing that happened in our uneventful fly to Delhi.

After arriving, my family and I met up with Benson, who was to be our travel guide for the remainder of our trip.

The bus driver drove to a spacious yet mostly deserted mall a few minutes from the airport. We ordered Subway, and marveled at the painstakingly slow process of making a sandwich, something that takes Subway workers in America mere seconds to create. Indian cooking is a wonderful thing, but if there is something they do not know how to make, it's a sandwich. 

         

                After we had assuaged our appetites, our Delhi adventure began. Benson showed us several important government buildings in Delhi, and talked about the diversity between Hindus and Muslims. Mughals (Muslim) invaded India (mainly Hindu) in the early sixteenth century. It was fascinating to hear about, and my interest in these religions grew as I learned more. 

We neared the Delhi Red Fort, we stopped and got out of the van. Benson showed us to the street, where a long line of rickshaw drivers were patiently waiting for someone to drive around. Nervously, our family split into pairs and hopped in the seats on the back of the bikes. And off we went, into the old part of Delhi. I’m telling you, I have SEEN traffic in India, and it is crazy. This was a chance to be a part of traffic in India. We bounced along the insanely crowded streets, almost giddy with the excitement of it all—the rushing people, the carts, the food stands, the buildings, the spices, the colors. We turned into an extremely narrow lane, lined with bright shops positively overflowing with vibrant merchandise. My driver yelled out to the people crowding the lane to warn them before we zoomed into the crowd. Suddenly he halted the rickshaw. There was an older man with another cart blocking a good deal of the road. It took several minutes of shouting and maneuvering before we were off again. 

At some designated spot we all stopped and got off. Working our way through the crowd, we followed Benson into a building holding shops outside of it. Scents of spices met my nose, eyes and mouth, making all burn. We hurried up a dark, narrow, and steep flight of stairs, and then another, and another. Stepping onto the roof, we gazed out across a gorgeous landscape of antique architecture. On one side of our precipice lay shorter buildings of intricate shops. On the other, we could peer into a courtyard of a mosque, where numerous people washed their hands and feet before praying. The view was breathless and enchanting.

We were standing above a mosque, and this is the place where Muslims wash their hands and feet before praying.

I love this picture, because in spite of the pollution, you can still appreciate the exquisite architecture and colorful touches. 

After this, we went back down to the spice shops. Benson showed us into a little store that sold these things, and my parents acted like kids in a candy shop. They bought cinnamon and cardamom and saffron and Chana masala and little spice candies. My mom plans to make lots of India food when we get home, so I can’t complain about that.

A Gandhi museum was next, and we had a good time reading about his life, and looking at pictures. I saw the staff Gandhi used during the Salt March, which made me happy. 

After this, we got back into the van, and drove 6 hours to Agra.:)