Monday, April 1, 2024
We left Agra for Delhi by bus. On the way, we stopped at an elephant sanctuary. This sanctuary, in comparison to others we’ve experienced on the trip, was very pro-animal welfare. When we arrived, we sat in a video lecture to educate us on their philosophy. In their perspective, any place you can have an experience with elephants that primarily favors humans is unethical. It contributes to a market where animals are spectacles and not autonomous beings. This sanctuary, they informed us, was different. It houses elephants from across India and Sri Lanka that had been abused in service to humans. Many elephants were used for riding, which they unequivocally said was bad for the animals. Almost all the elephants were seriously, physically abused. This sanctuary was a recipient of a government program for rescuing elephants, where if there is sufficient proof of abuse, these graceful beings can find a life of care and rehabilitation.
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We spent our time in the sanctuary watching a few elephants get a bath — including one who was in her sunset years. There was one elephant who used to only be fed fast food, and now has a habit of throwing normal grass meals on her back before eating. One of the most powerful parts of the sanctuary was the elephant graveyard. The caretakers compared losing an elephant to losing a member of the family.
After the visit, we headed to Delhi on the bus. The ride went smoothly, save for a dramatic bathroom break. While we were stopped in heavy traffic on the highway, Ria and I figured we could sneak a visit to a nearby gas station bathroom. Just as we left the bus, the traffic dissipated. We were none the wiser. The whole bus nervously watched as Ria and I walked to the station without a care, them all starting and stopping along the freeway at progressively greater distances away. After getting off an urgent call with Camille, Ria and I rushed along the highway back to the bus. We made it back. If we were left behind, I guess we would just live in India now.
We got to our first stop in the evening. Most of our group was staying at a nice hotel called the Ambassador. We dropped everyone off except for Meera, Camille and I. We opted to stay at a cheaper place to save costs.
We asked the driver to take the three of us to our hotel. When he found out our address, he informed us that a bus of that size was not allowed to drive in that section of the city! We were disappointed to learn this, as it meant that we would have to double pay for transportation every day (luckily, rickshaws are usually quite affordable). When we got to our hotel, it made sense why the driver had to refuse — we were staying in Old Delhi, in a building hidden inside narrow streets with heavy foot and tuk tuk traffic. It would be really hard for such a big bus to drive there.
Later on in our stay in Delhi, we would walk past the same model of bus in our hotel neighborhood. This frustrated me quite a bit, because it definitely seemed possible that the driver was allowed to drop us off, but refused. It is still unknown to me what was really allowed — maybe that bus we saw was breaking the rules whereas our driver was strictly law-abiding. I’ll never know and I don’t need to know.
Meera, Cam and I split a room with two beds and no windows. Despite the lack of natural light, the room was really nice. We chilled in our room, exhausted from the big travel day. After gathering some energy, we ate some dinner at an aptly named restaurant around the corner — the Café Vagabond.
Tuesday, April 2, 2024
Today, the whole group went to Shahpur Jat, the high-end shopping mall in modern Delhi. We all had a blast!
Right at the entrance of the mall, there was a shop that I simply had to visit. The shop owner’s last name was Bhasin, our family name! The shop revealed elegant modern Indian men’s clothes. The owner, Bhavya, specializes in elegant Indo-Western garments. Leafing through the articles along the walls revealed the extent of Bhavya’s eye for design. Even though it was basically the first shop I visited in the mall, I had to have something from there. Camille and I worked with Bhavya to make a custom kurta for the Jersey wedding (my cousin was getting married soon). Bhavya guided us in the details of the design, which was something like the combination of two garments we found. I asked him if he thought our outfit would work, and he assured me that he wouldn’t make anything that he didn’t think would look good. After deciding on a design and having my measurements taken, I left the shop pleased. Not only would I look great, but I was excited to have a garment with “Bhasin” on the label.
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I was not the only person to get excited by a shop near the entrance of the mall. Just a few doors down, the cousins and aunties were trying on lehengas and saris. Both Massi Shashi and cousin Meera were checking out kurtas for the men in their lives. We all had a fun time trying on clothes and plotting looks for the wedding coming up this June.
I walked with Cam deeper into Shahpur Jat so we could look for her reception outfit. We had a lovely time talking to shopkeeps, reviewing outfits she would try on, and looking fancifully at chic clothes way out of budget. As we walked, we noted how this mall was evidence that Delhi should be the next big fashion city along the lines of Shanghai and Milan. Cam ended up finding a purple outfit with silver accents that also was on budget! Finding the garment took us into a shop down a narrow passageway.
Cam and I met up with the rest of the group, and all of us walked to a Bihari restaurant at the other corner of the mall. Bihar is a far north-easterly region of India. Around this time, Cam was reading a book called The Shortest History of India. (She picked up this book in a shop in Kerala.) She recalled to us some context about Bihar and its history, how it was brutally pillaged by the British East India company. Despite this somber background, we all enjoyed various thalis and appreciated the opportunity to try a different type of Indian cuisine.
After lunch, we were getting a bit tired, so we opted to continue our shopping day closer to home. We took the bus to the mall right next to the Ambassador — the Khan Market. We all spent a decent amount of time looking for odds and ends to complete our ‘fits. Cam and I entered a shoe store looking for traditional shoes for my outfits only to find they exclusively sold western shoes. I asked the kind shopkeepers where I could find what I was after, and they gave me a solid lead. In our time in the mall, Cam and I would dart in and out of shops with and without other family members.
Cooked from a big day of shopping, most of the group retreated to their hotel rooms next door. Meera, Cam and I caught a taxi back to our place in Old Delhi. Exhausted, we ate another dinner at Café Vagabond instead of searching for something new.
Wednesday, April 3, 2024
Instead of taking another rickshaw to meet the family this morning, we decided to check out public transit. We were surprised by how nice it was! Our bus stop was a short walk away. The bus fare was incredibly cheap (20 rupees — about a quarter dollar) and women rode free! The bus was uncrowded, and it was easier to sightsee from the windows than from an autorickshaw. We were dropped off a quick walk to the Ambassador. We recommend the bus!
Once we met up with the family, we hopped on our tour bus to drive some 40 minutes to a suburb called Faridabad. We were to spend the day with our extended family who live in Delhi!
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We met my mom’s cousin, my Uncle Romi, and his wife Manju. Their daughter, Mitu, we had met at the beginning of our trip in Tasmania. We also got to meet her two older sisters, Ginny and Manni! We also met our great uncle in law, Rajendra, who lived nearby. It yet again was so precious to get to meet our extended family on this trip!! Better still, we would get to see this whole crew again at the wedding in June.
We all met for tea that turned into lunch. As visits go in my family, this one was typical — there was a lot of delicious food! We ate to the brim and then a little bit more, sharing family stories and learning about each other’s lives.
Tea with family takes a lot of energy! After our day with the fam, we all went home to recharge. After being back in the room for a while, Meera felt a little sick (so unfortunate). Since she was feeling ill and the rest of us were tired, our dinner was a snack via room service.
Thursday, April 4, 2024
Although she still wasn’t feeling well, Meera joined us for the first stop of the day: the Jama Masjid. This was close to where we were staying in Old Delhi. A hotel staff member helped us negotiate the price for a rickshaw since we had gotten high prices there previously. We ended up going with the same driver on two occasions, but the second time at a cheaper price due to the negotiating ability of a local.
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Meera, Cam and I got to the mosque first before the rest of the party from the Ambassador. We carried our shoes with us. A staff member showed us the “no tourists allowed” section of the mosque since it was early in the day. After 10, he explained, it’s only a place of worship for locals. This mosque was huge and ornate. It was also built by our man Shah Jahan, the person who ordered the construction of the Taj Mahal and Red Fort. The Jama Masjid is one of the largest mosques in India.
Meera and I sat in the shade and met up with Ria, Shashi, Mark and Jola, who soon arrived. Camille was talking on the phone with her friend. We discussed plans with the big group, hung out a bit, and then they left. Meera left with them, because she was still feeling unwell and needed to go home to get better.
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Cam and I ventured into the alleys of Chandni Chowk trying to find the tomb of Razia Sultan, the first woman emperor of India. We got lost. We received wrong directions from an older woman in a full niqab. Eventually we found the tomb. We followed signs, but to get to the very end, a man sent his 10 year old son down the narrow street corridors to lead us to her resting place. She was buried with her sister, the imam there told us. There were no other people there at all.
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We left to go to the National Contemporary Art Gallery. Between getting lost driving there and wanting to meet up with the rest of the group, we didn’t spend much time there. We got on the bus (with Mom, Shashi, and Ria) and went to Lajpat Nagar, a killer mall specializing in Indian goods and clothes at fair prices. We finished our wedding shopping for the Jersey wedding there!
After shopping, Cam and I needed to eat while Shashi and Ria needed to go to FabIndia one more time for alterations. The bus driver dropped them off and then took Camille, my mom, and I to the hip part of town (Hauz Kaus). We went to Pete’s Deli, a NYC style Deli in Delhi. I ended up talking with the owner of the restaurant, Tushar, after charming my way into getting an experimental drink that had yet to be added to the menu. Before founding the restaurant and moving to India, he lived in NYC for 15 years and was a lead chef in Facebook’s tech office kitchen. What a small world.
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After lunch, we all went back and picked up Ria and Shashi, and then dropped everyone off at the Ambassador. Cam and I took the driver to meet Meera, who was trying to attend a Qawwali, or a Punjabi-/Sufi- folk music show.
We arrived in a busy area surrounding a mosque and had a hard time finding Meera. It was a really intense street. The only way to locate her seemed to involve going deep into the dargah. This was very hectic. What we didn’t realize at the time was that we were entering the break of the fast during Ramadan — only a few days before Eid. We went deep into what felt like another world.
We eventually found Meera. The three of us didn’t really understand what we were getting into. We couldn’t tell if there was going to be Qawwali music after all due to Ramadan. After fluttering around the crowd for a bit, we were invited to see the center of the monument – which was a tomb of an important spiritual figure for this part of India. Soon after, we were instructed through gestures to sit down. We sat on the raised floor under the deck of the tomb.
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We were instructed, via languages we didn’t understand and emphatic gestures, to move here, move there, stand up and sit down. It’s funny thinking of this now, but at the time we were really stressed. Soon, I was sitting opposite of Camille and Meera next to a Bihari dude. I had a small side conversation and found out he was from Bihar, but moved around a lot between Azerbaijan, Armenia, Moscow, Georgia and the like working in oil. Our conversation was cut short because dinner was being served. Chicken biryani, sweet rose milk, bowls of dates, sweets and fruit were laid out on a cloth in front of us. The three of us exchanged curious and slightly nervous glances.
Then, a siren went off. Indeed, we were alarmed. We didn’t know what was going on at all. It soon became apparent that this signaled the break of the fast in Ramadan. We joined our neighbors breaking the fast with a date.
We sat with strangers eating with our hands. Eventually, dinner ended and the time for prayer began, so they kicked us out – we couldn’t stay on the platform along the tomb anymore. We did our best to stand to the side, as there was a buzzing crowd of people moving all around us. We gathered together beyond the diffusing worshipers, unable to make sense of why there was so much movement. Eventually, we realized that everyone was circling the tomb. At this point, we hit our stimulation limit, and left the crowded area.
We almost left for home, but we hadn’t seen what we set out to hear – the Qawwali show. We waited for some 35 minutes, when someone told us the show was supposed to start, the entire time debating if we should just call it a night. When the time came, we didn't hear anything and almost left. Meera went in to check if something was going on. Soon, she texted Cam and I, and we took the plunge and headed back in.
We found good seats in the front nearby where we ate dinner with a good view of the folk singers. We really enjoyed the music! It was much higher tempo then a lot of the traditional Indian music we’ve heard previously, and a ton of fun. We took in the show and then called it a night.
Friday, April 5, 2024
Our last day in Delhi was unexpectedly powerful. It started out like any other day of our trip, by checking out a few sights.
Our group got together and visited Qutab Minar. This ancient monument, like any of sufficient age, had been repurposed and interpreted by the ruling culture of the day. It was an ancient Hindu temple that once hallowed Buddha that later became a mosque. If you looked carefully, you could see icons of all three religions, some etched out and decorated over.
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A highlight of Qutab Minar was an iron metal pole. It didn’t look like too much until you read its panel. Apparently, the metal rod was made in 400 AD and defied our historical understanding of what metallurgy was possible in that time. We looked closer at the pole, and noticed that it was pure and uniform in quality, leaving me feeling like I’ve witnessed a human encounter with aliens.
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We also visited the Bahai Lotus Temple in the morning. This visit was much more brief. We took a few pictures leading up to the temple, and had a moment of quiet contemplation inside.
After the morning outings, Cam and I broke off from the main group. I wanted to take her on a date, since we hadn’t had much alone time for a while. We went to the 1919 Bar in the Imperial Hotel, which was a high-end remnant of British rule. We got a few snacks and drinks and enjoyed each other’s company.
After lunch, we re-joined the group to return to Shahpur Jat for fittings and to pick up clothes that we had previously ordered. On the way to the mall, we found out that my great uncle Lajpat had passed away. We had been communicating with our family to try to meet him while we were in town, but learned that he was sick. We didn’t realize how sick he really was.
With a little back and forth, we decided that we wanted to be there for our uncle’s cremation. We left the mall, dropped off a few things at home, and then started the journey to the outskirts of Delhi, where his funeral would take place.
Almost an hour drive later, we arrived in a parking lot full of animals next to a few somber buildings. We walked past square, tile murals featuring Krishna and other Hindu figures. There was a ceremonial area, a few government buildings, and many burning sites (fireplaces on concrete platforms) — some active. We noticed no other people besides ourselves. Apparently, we were early. We sat by a few benches and looked at the crows flying around the nearby coniferous trees.
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Our family arrived at the other end of the crematorium grounds; we walked the length of the outdoor crematorium to the Hindu altar. A ceremony was already commencing. Extended family, most of whom I haven’t met, surrounded my great uncle, who was covered with a cloth in an altar on the platform.
We watched the ceremony progress with family members I recognized, like my Great Aunt Sneh, and family that I knew through inference, like those who obviously appeared to be descendants of Sneh Auntyji. The ceremony lead my great uncle’s remains past the altar area and to a pyre. After some time and stacks of wood, he was set ablaze.
A crowd of friends and family watch the smoke and the fire. Ashes poured about. Every two minutes or so, for some reason, everyone’s phones would buzz at the same time. It took us a few minutes to realize why: this was the world wide family WhatsApp chat. We were getting the same messages that everyone else was — the condolences from our family far away, who were watching the live stream of the service.
At some point around then, my immediate family had the opportunity to greet Sneh Auntyji and give her our condolences. I hadn’t seen her in maybe fifteen years, since my last trip to India when I was a teenager. It was a sad circumstance to say hello, but I had warm, loving feelings in the moments that we shared. She introduced us to her daughter and granddaughter, who were by her side for most of that evening.
Sometime after, while we watched my great uncle’s cremation, a relative walked by giving out a snack mixture consisting of unshelled almonds, rock candy, popcorn and the like. Unaware of this tradition, we asked what it meant. We learned that that symbolized a gift of gratitude from my great uncle, who was fortunate enough to live a long life. There were a few coins in the snack mixture that meant extra luck if received. My mom was a fortunate beneficiary of a coin.
We stayed all the way to the end of the ritual, maybe an hour past when we said it would take to our driver, who was very understanding and patient. We drove back home to the Ambassador and had dinner together nearby at the Khan Market. We ate a happy meal together, the last day before our next embarkment, still reflecting on the end of life ceremony we all had just witnessed.