Last weekend Hannah and I took a trip to Delhi. She will be leaving India soon and wanted to go on a trip together. I have been contemplating taking my parents through Rajasthan, so Delhi would be a convenient stop over to check out. We had an open schedule, but knew we wanted to check out Chadni Chawk (the old market), eat some local parathas and go to the craft museum. We accomplished all three with the old market being my favorite.
It has taken me a while to mentally adjust to being back in India. I have felt between two worlds and have been focusing too much on the future, rather than staying in the present. The little irritants that you tend to disregard here, have been more annoying than usual. The lack of sidewalks, the pushiness in lines, the lack of acknowledgement of personal space- all have been giving me trouble this time around. So, it was a bit exhausting thinking about going into Chadni Chawk during the sticky and moist weather of monsoon season. I wasn't dreading it, but I wasn't especially excited about the event.
Hannah and i showed up around 11, a little before the market gets really going. We decided to walk down to the spice market. I wanted to pick up some vanilla beans and both of us just wanted to see what it was all about. The walk from the metro was long, and a few blocks in I was reminded of how visceral life can be in India. The streets were filled with people, sidewalks (Delhi has them) were crowded, we were already sweaty and there was a constant roar of noise coming from the streets. Oh god, here we go again.
A few blocks in, we started seeing the different spice markets and smelling the wafts of heavy aroma flowing out of the shops. We passed a cacophony of smells- pepper, floral, musky, spicy, citrus, even the odd rancid smell from a pan or soap shop. All types of aromas encircled us as we walked on. I began to get drawn into the order amongst the chaos. Circular plates of dried chili's and spices would be the display style of one shop owner with clearly labeled shelves as the method of housing another's goods. Everything was arranged and presented with its own character. I was being drawn in.
I began to look up. Chadni Chawk is the oldest active market, dating back to the 17th century. The architecture is from the age of the Mughals. One man's home dated back about 700 years. People were still living in these buildings. These tiny streets have been thoroughfares for buyers and traders for centuries. I was reminded of my trip to Varanasi. It felt similar, not as old as Varanasi, but that same feeling of antiquity and life was there. India was opening itself up to me, once again. I started to lose the wall that I had been building between the culture and myself. I was loosening up and just having fun shopping around for beads and other memorabilia that would remind me of the chaotic market.
Hannah and I found the paratha alley that everyone had raved to us about. We ordered a pea and mixed veg paratha, with a lemon paratha for dessert. Communication problems may have provided us with only the pea parathas and 1 unidentified dessert replacement, but it was good nonetheless. Exhaused, sweaty, and clothes a little damaged we decided to head back to the guest house for a little sensory repair. It was a long day that ultimately ended in a trip to Hauz Khos for a friendly meet-up and a delicious dinner, but the day was a success. I had been brought back into the fold. I was reminded of the exploration that was yet to be had during my time here, and my love of a country that can be so confusing and difficult to bare. I had rediscovered India.
It has taken me a while to mentally adjust to being back in India. I have felt between two worlds and have been focusing too much on the future, rather than staying in the present. The little irritants that you tend to disregard here, have been more annoying than usual. The lack of sidewalks, the pushiness in lines, the lack of acknowledgement of personal space- all have been giving me trouble this time around. So, it was a bit exhausting thinking about going into Chadni Chawk during the sticky and moist weather of monsoon season. I wasn't dreading it, but I wasn't especially excited about the event.
Hannah and i showed up around 11, a little before the market gets really going. We decided to walk down to the spice market. I wanted to pick up some vanilla beans and both of us just wanted to see what it was all about. The walk from the metro was long, and a few blocks in I was reminded of how visceral life can be in India. The streets were filled with people, sidewalks (Delhi has them) were crowded, we were already sweaty and there was a constant roar of noise coming from the streets. Oh god, here we go again.
A few blocks in, we started seeing the different spice markets and smelling the wafts of heavy aroma flowing out of the shops. We passed a cacophony of smells- pepper, floral, musky, spicy, citrus, even the odd rancid smell from a pan or soap shop. All types of aromas encircled us as we walked on. I began to get drawn into the order amongst the chaos. Circular plates of dried chili's and spices would be the display style of one shop owner with clearly labeled shelves as the method of housing another's goods. Everything was arranged and presented with its own character. I was being drawn in.
I began to look up. Chadni Chawk is the oldest active market, dating back to the 17th century. The architecture is from the age of the Mughals. One man's home dated back about 700 years. People were still living in these buildings. These tiny streets have been thoroughfares for buyers and traders for centuries. I was reminded of my trip to Varanasi. It felt similar, not as old as Varanasi, but that same feeling of antiquity and life was there. India was opening itself up to me, once again. I started to lose the wall that I had been building between the culture and myself. I was loosening up and just having fun shopping around for beads and other memorabilia that would remind me of the chaotic market.
Hannah and I found the paratha alley that everyone had raved to us about. We ordered a pea and mixed veg paratha, with a lemon paratha for dessert. Communication problems may have provided us with only the pea parathas and 1 unidentified dessert replacement, but it was good nonetheless. Exhaused, sweaty, and clothes a little damaged we decided to head back to the guest house for a little sensory repair. It was a long day that ultimately ended in a trip to Hauz Khos for a friendly meet-up and a delicious dinner, but the day was a success. I had been brought back into the fold. I was reminded of the exploration that was yet to be had during my time here, and my love of a country that can be so confusing and difficult to bare. I had rediscovered India.
0 comments:
Post a Comment