Takli Ladki: A visit to Fancy Corner

This Sunday I got my friends Siawash and Gilly to come with me. We went to old Delhi.

Sundays are when most Indians are out on the streets. There are a lot of markets too, selling used clothes on the street for kilometers at a time, from Nataji Subhash Marg, from Darya Ganj where Sahara Men's Rehab and Sahara Michael's Care Home is, past the Red Fort and Jama Masjid, to Chandni Chowk where we were headed.

In City of Djinns, William Dalrymple said Chandni Chowk was Delhi's greatest disappointment. He had images of exotic markets and a bastion of intellectual culture; a glorious jewel at the center of the the great Mughal empire. Fortunately I didn't have those expectations; in fact the more I see of this city, having been a little wary to move here in the first place, the more I enjoy. My advise is to look beyond Paharganj, the Lonely Planet (damn those bastards!) recommended area that most travelers first come, the cesspit of drugs and touts, cheap guesthouses and hippies who tell you India's spiritual offerings with absolute certainty while stepping over a begger. If you are afraid of being overwhelmed by India, come to Delhi later when you have already fallen hook, line and sinker.

Chanandi Chowk is chocked full of crumbling Havalis (mansions) that I actually find rather charming. I must admit that I don't pine for Delhi's Mughal power or Urdu poetic culture as I walk around the city. I'm willing to bet that the poor and marginalized in those days didn't have it so much better than today. The character of a city doesn't fade with history and no matter what anyone else grumbles. It evolves. And more importantly, I guarantee there are more sources for unintended hilarity now than in the fussy old 17th century.

Gilly said these people are waiting in line for chai. If this is true than this particular chai wallah (tea man) really perfected his product and marketing plan.

Some corners however are not so fancy and are overdue for a spruce up. For the tearing down and reconstruction of a new building a crew will be brought in to construct the whole thing by hand, from the making the bricks to welding metal support bars to pouring concrete over them creating the floor pillars. The workers are migrant labourers and they move in with their families and construct makeshift shafts in the site until the job is over. They are typically paid about Rs 100 a day ($2/£1). Scaffolding is made of bamboo.

We traveled around by foot and by cycle rickshaw. Props to Siawash for choosing when to jump in a cycle without any word to me or Gilly or any idea of where we were going next. First stop: Lunch. Go to the muslim part of town for serious meat eating. We asked a cycle rickshaw to take us to a muslim eatery where we had this:

It is slightly difficult to eat mutton off the bone armed with only roti bread and a spoon, but I prevailed even under the curious eyes of many young males in the establishment.

It probably came from here:

Right after this photo was taken, Siawash accidently popped the kid's balloon with his cigarette. Priceless.

Siawash suggested that people use these sticks to clean their teeth. My own theory is that they are bundles of breadsticks all wrapped up and coming soon to a cheap Italian restaurant near you. The juice wallah (juice man) wanted to know if I was doing a news story, so of course I told him I worked for the bbc.