Christmas in Delhi
on Roundabouts in Delhi (India), 27/Dec/2010 05:00, 34 days ago
Our Christmas Tree. A present from theneighbours.Christmas EveIt was 10pm and I was sat watching Bridget Jones’ Diary to get myself in the mood for Christmas when a small face appeared at the window to the flat and then 2 seconds later the doorbell rang. I opened the door. “You come?” This seemed like less of a request than an order so I grabbed my key locked up and followed her to the flat just downthe corridor. I was welcomed by a lady in a floor length orange bed jacket who ushered me inside, sat me down and insisted I join them for a drink. Despite the fact that I didn’t quite turn out to be who they thought I was, not my flatmate Zoe, nor the German girl they’d also met before, they still welcomed me and sat me down with a glass of red wine and then proceeded to insist I have some food. This then carried on for the next four hours with yet more wine being poured and more food being offered. They told me about living in Delhi for last 15 years, about our "sneeky landlady", and about their home, Nagaland, in north India. The husband also showed some magazine clippings of the chain of restaurants in Delhi that he manages and said any time I wanted to eat there to let him know. They made me feel so welcome even though they’d never met me before and they reminded me a bit of anorth Indian version of my own family, slightly eccentric but determined to make you feel at home, plying you with food and drink and bossing each other around. When at 1.45am I said I really must be going I felt like I’d slightly offended them and was still impressed upon that I really must eatsome rice before I go. A slightly unconventional but lovely Christmas Eve.Christmas DayOne of the nicest things I’ve found about being in Delhi so far are the number of people that invite you round to their house, offer to feed you, treat their friends as your own and offer you protection (my other neighbour and the local shopkeepers). Christmas Day was another classic example of this when another NGO workerinvited anyone who didn’t have a place to go at Christmas round to her flat for food and drink. Saved from a day on my own listening to Phil Spector’s Christmas Album on repeat (listening to White Christmas when it's 20 odd degrees outside just isn't the same) and having a Christmas lunch of crackers and jam. Instead I got to spend a very international Christmas Day with other NGO workers and Delhites. Everyone brought some food and drink and even a Christmas quiz which amazingly, given my poor pub quiz track record, I did ok in but possibly only because the quiz had been written by a Brit so a lot of the questions had a British twist to them and I was the only other Brit there. Boxing DayWhen I woke up this morning to a thick Delhi mist and then thought about everyone at home sitting on the sofa watching Christmas re-runs and eating mince pies and turkey sandwiches, it was very tempting to stay in my pyjamas and shun the outside world in favour of the calm and tranquillity of my flat. However, I had promised myself the day before that I’d do some sightseeing today and as the sun began to appear through the mist I felt too guilty staying in.What has overwhelmed me slightly since arriving in Delhi is the sheer size of the city and the number of people that inhabit it. A population of 20 million and that’s only the people that are actually registered, with more pouring in on the trains every day. You really feel like the city is set to burst at any stage and at some point it’s no longer going to be able to cope. Grid locked traffic is a daily occurrence with cars, auto-rickshaws, cycle rickshaws, people, cows, vegetable carts all trying to squeeze through the same narrow street in two directions. At the same time people are extending their houses outward and upwards to accommodate for the growing number of people and the streets become narrower and narrower. It’s a bit like the scene inthe film Labyrinth where Jennifer Connelly is in the maze and every time she turns around someone has put a wall in place of where there was a street just ten seconds ago. In the first week of being here I felt incredibly hemmed in and overwhelmed by the intensity of it all but as I’ve got to know my local area better and start to venture a bit further, like any new city, it becomes a little less daunting and feels less unwieldy. I’ve also started to the use the metro and from my nearest stop, Moolchand, travelling further south to Kailash Colony it travels overground but actually at rooftop height so that you are looking down on the whole city. It’s really quite incredible as you look out on this mish mash of half built tenements surrounding high domed mosques and grand Hindu temples, past slum areas side by side with high rise hotels and brief areas of lush green trees.Multi-coloured furry jump suits and roof top farms.Just another day in Old Delhi.Today I took the metro to Chandni Chowk having decided I was going to visit the Red Fort and the Jama Masquid and explore a bit of Old Delhi for the first time. I tend to get stared at a considerable amount by men and women alike for being a young white western woman travelling around the town on her own. It doesn’t bother me too much as I don’t believe any harm is meant in the staring and I’ve stopped feeling quite so self-conscious. However, being in New Delhi was nothing compared to being in Old Delhi where the pointing and laughing was ten fold and it really felt as though I was the first real white person they had ever seen. I’d partly decided to head to the Jama Masquid as I’d heard that as well as being India’s largest mosque it is quite a quiet place to sit and observe Old Delhi from. Not quite. It turned out I’d hit upon market day so turning away from the Red Fort I was faced with a giant crush of man against rickshaw battling their way down the street. Eventually after much shoving and pushing I sidestepped the crush into the park leading to the Jama Masquid. It was a pretty impressive sight, this enormous temple partly clouded in Delhi mist and surrounded by more market stalls, most of which appearedto be selling multi-coloured furry jump suits for toddlers. That’s the fantastic thing about Delhi, the logical way in which they order their market stalls. If you need a blanket you head for the blanket sellers quarter, for your cooking pot you head to the kitchen equipment quarter and clearly if your toddler is in need of furry green jump suit for those winter months you head to the foot of the Jama Masquid. You can immediately tell the tourists from the locals as they will be asking the egg seller for toilet roll and trying to buy their blankets in the confectionary market.So I made my way through the market stalls to the steps of the Jama Masquid where it did seem suddenly quieter and more peaceful. I saw lots of people taking their shoes off and walking into the mosque so I started to do the same but my way was barred by an eagle eyed official who was quick to beckon to his friend the ticket seller. Free for locals but RS. 200 entry for foreigners. I decided I’d wait to go in another day as I was happy to observe it from the outside for now and sit on the steps to look out on Old Delhi and the markets. For a good two minutes I was left undisturbed to watch the comings and goings below and the curious rooftop farms with a goat that appeared to be painted yellow all over. It was when I decided to get camera out that a sudden flurry of activity ensued, not of people wanting to be in my photo but wanting to take a photo of me. First it was done quite subtly, a boy pretending to take a photo of his friends but pointing the camera in my direction, butpretty soon they were unabashedly stood right in front of me with their mobile phone cameras clicking away. I then agreed to a request from one to have his photo taken with me as this seemed better than pretending I hadn't noticed the gathering paparazzi. However, this was taken as a mass invitation and people all around who seemed to come from nowhere started sitting next to me and pulling out mobile phone cameras. One boy who spoke English apologised for his friends and said that they didn’t live in Delhi and many of them hadn’t seen a white woman in the flesh before. I’m not sure if this was really true. I didn’t mind the photography too much as I know it was just curiosity but I did feel a bit deflated that the Jama Maquid wasn’t quite the quiet hideaway I’d been anticipating.The flipside of this bizarre incident however, the laughing and pointing and the overflowing streets, was that when I got back to Mooljand and was walking through the streets of Lajpat back home it seemed so quiet and calm in comparison. I stopped briefly to observe a wedding party that was set up in one of the local parks just as a sadhu walked past who had sensibly adapted his dress for the winter months and was sporting a bright orange puffa jacket to match his orange robes.