Sundays are my day off so i like to try and get off my arse and go see the city that I'm living in. I also like lazing around the day in front of the computer. So when I do actually go somewhere I'll take pictures and write about it here. Spoiler: Delhi is pretty weird and cool.
As a fairish shortie blonde chick, in an area such as the backlanes of Jama Masjid, I might tend to attract like a bit of attention. Fortunately I went in disguise.
Meena Bazaar, market in front of Jama Masjid.
In the mid-seventeenth century, the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan (1628-1658) built the city that sometimes bears his name Shahjahanabad, the seventh city of Delhi that is more commonly known as the old city or old Delhi. This city contains a number of significant architectural features, including the Red Fort (Lal Qila) and the Jama Masjid. Thanks Wikipedia. For any more history I suggest Willi
am Dalrymple's City of Djinns; I see this blog going down the photos with funny comments rather than the informational route.
In India there is a 'guy' for everything. Most stick to pretty much one thing. Here is the pani wallah (water man).
The bylanes of Old Delhi around Jama Masjid
Old Delhi is burqa territory. I actually am in the market for a decent veil but no one seems to take me seriously. Not only am I interested in spending an afternoon chador clad as a sociological exercise but also there are some faces that shouldn't be exposed to the public more than is really necessary.
There is a lack of display space so shopkeepers get creative. Sometimes the results can be slightly disturbing.
Eva and Ines and I meandered down the lanes in the early evening. We shared the road with the crowds, cycle rickshaws and motorcyclists. Everyone was out doing their last minute weekend shopping as Sunday is their only day off too. One nice thing about old Delhi is that you see women on the streets. Many's the time I've been outside in a crowded place and been convinced that there are no women in India.
Pots and Pans Wallah, as opposed to Pan Wallah who sells Pan and cigarettes.
A word on garment shops. This is where you go to buy material for saris and salwar kameez. Some are ready-made but its much more fun to pick out the material and get it made to fit by a tailor. I've browsed for many a salwar in my time but I'm still puzzled by the fact that ninety percent of outfits displayed are hideous and yet most salwars on Indian women look great.
The guy on the left is telling the classic 'a muslim, a hindu and a sikh walk into a bar' gag.
There are a lot of great festivals (although we aren't a fan of booze shops being closed at least ten days out of some months). The decorations are excellent too. Just past was Diwali, the festival of light. Just wait for Christmas, baby; then the tinsel will really fly.
Thanks Eva and Ines
A human being shouldn't become so spotless.
One should leave a few stains on one's shirt.
One should carry on oneself a little bit of sin.
Namdeo Dhasal
A human being shouldn't become so spotless.
One should leave a few stains on one's shirt.
One should carry on oneself a little bit of sin.
Namdeo Dhasal
2 comments:
At two in the afternoon.
It was exactly two in the afternoon.
A boy brought the steel plate of meat with full of spices.
at two in the afternoon.
A frail of lime ready prepared
at two in the afternoon.
at two in the afternoon.
a Willow ware of crystal, a jug of water!
a pillar of mosque by the wind drawn over the Muslim Restaurant.
turning course of a Holy Song that
goes curving to nowhere,,,
the calm course of a wind
or the Autumn, appearing without urgency behind the opened Windows and closed mind,,,
and water behind a stillness of closed eyelids
what was his fault!?
a single presence in the procession of joy and happiness
in a green sovereignty without decline
when me, Gilly and Faith were eating our food,,,
maybe somewhere else in another Chandni Chawk the boy still is laughing at the bladder of his dreams without exposing to the fire of cigarettes,,,
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