I'm at the Edge of Delhi (A very long post.)

So after getting over jetlag and doing data entry in Dehradun, I took off for Delhi over my self-appointed Christmas break. I was in Delhi from the 24-27^th, but got in on the night of the 23^rd and left the morning of the 28^th. So, it might have been 3.5 days total.

            It is difficult to imagine any other place where even just sitting in an apartment can make you so over stimulated that you feel like you need a nap by 2:00 PM. I feel like I’ve been gone for a week, even though I’ve only been gone for half of that time. Also, the PhD students at the Institute aren’t used to a Christmas break, so they all acted like I’d been gone for a month.

            As you can probably imagine, Delhi is a city that feels very similar to New York in some parts and very similar to Hades in others. I’ve heard that Mumbai is even more polarized, but Delhi feels like it is already at the extreme. I stayed in Lajpat Nagar, which is where a lot of expats and wealthy Indians live. It is right on the Metro Line. Nevertheless, if you get off the metro in Chandri Chowk, you end up right in the heart of Old Delhi with no warning to transition between the gated community of Lajpat Nagar and the medieval turned post-apocalyptic streets of Old Delhi.

            Both areas are charming and engaging in their own ways. The one trait that is universally not charming is the air quality. Even just doing yoga made me feel like my lungs had been shrunk about three times. I definitely got a cold just from the assault on my sinuses. I’d say that Lajpat Nagar is expensive and doesn’t feel “real” the way that Dehradun does. It feels very produced, similar to other new, posh neighborhoods in NYC and the surrounding Jersey areas. Nevertheless, you don’t get harassed in Lajpat Nagar and you can readily find the ingredients for orange French toast on a Christmas morning. Old Delhi is almost entirely the opposite. It is chaotic, people harass any white person—a lot of tourists pass through—it smells both like food and excrement, and you can tell that it has been inhabited longer than any American city. There are a lot of wonderful things to see in Old Delhi, especially if you like street food and old buildings. But it is not a sustainable pace. Lajpat Nagar, on the other hand, is very livable but does not offer much other than high-end shopping.

            The first day in Delhi, we just hung around Lajpat Nagar. Ali came down from Dehradun with me and we just unwound during the 24^th. On Christmas day, everyone was talking with their families, so I just wanted to get out of the apartment to take my mind off of being in India during Christmas for the second time in four years.  Ali and I tried going to the mansion that Gandhi lived in and where he was also assassinated. It was closed, probably because some politician was visiting. My friend at the Wildlife Institute told me that it’s been closed for such events every time he’s tried to go there. We then walked through the wealthy part of Delhi that was built up by the British and wealthy colonial and post-colonial Indians, which felt similar to Lajpat Nagar, but older. We made it to Lodi Gardens, which is a collection of Mughal era buildings that have been converted into a park. A lot of Indian families were there having Christmas day picnics on the green spaces in between these 16^th century buildings.

            From Lodi Gardens we walked what Indian aunties warned us was “very, very far,” to Khan Market. Khan Market is a very upscale shopping area slightly north of Lajpat Nagar. It is close to where we spent our first few days in India during the Fulbright orientation. In Khan Market, we found a respectable-looking butcher, who I talked about mutton with for some time. Eventually, he recommended a particular leg-of-goat and then began cutting it up for me. I must have exuded more confidence than my mostly vegetarian life should exude, because he seemed very concerned that I approve of his carving technique.

            Once back in Lajpat Nagar, I made mutton with yogurt marinade, which was really amazing. It probably also helped that we had all been eating mostly potatoes, lentils, and random in-season veggies for the past several months. But overall, the mutton was a success. Ali also found some broccoli in the fancy market part of the butcher’s shop. Broccoli might not sound fancy, but it’s rarely available in Dehradun. For dessert, Devin managed to find some doughnuts from somewhere in Delhi and made them into a birthday cake for her husband, Brian.

            Overall, it was a successful Christmas day, and much better than the one that I spent in Patna four years ago. Granted, pretty much anywhere is a better place to spend Christmas than Patna. I really did not suffer too much for being away from home on Christmas. It definitely helped that I was just home for Thanksgiving. I will say that I got pretty grumpy while I was making mutton, and Peter and my mom kept on calling me over a bad connection; but Christmas has never been as emotional for me as it has been for other people. I generally prefer the fall holidays to the winter ones. Although, it will probably be tough to go through my birthday when I am far away from everyone.

            The next day, Ali and I went to the B’hai Lotus Temple, which was beautiful, although closed. There we met a very nice South Asian American family from Detroit, who I initially offended when I tried speaking in Hindi to them. Eventually, they were so excited that I’m probably going to the University of Michigan next year that they took a picture with Ali and myself. They were unfortunately not the only people we met there. Nick had warned us that he had heard of weird people hanging around the Lotus Temple, and we met one. Within three minutes of getting off of the metro, a French tourist accosted us, and immediately said, “Do you need a taxi?” He then proceeded to walk with us and talk to us even though he did not introduce himself or ask if we minded the company. Ali, being from the Midwest, spoke to him, although in a very guarded and clearly disinterested manner. I, being from the New York area, just ignored him. He stood creepily behind us while we spoke to the Indian American family, and then rejoined us only to accuse us of being defensive. He refused to leave us alone until I said: “A lot of rapes happen in the United States, and a lot happen in India. Therefore, I don’t speak to all strange men, whether I’m there or here.” His response, if he were a normal human being, should have been: “Oh god, I would never do that. I didn’t know I was making you that uncomfortable.” His sociopath response was: “How would I rape two women, out her in broad daylight?” In France does rape mean consent or was he just a complete misogynist? I’ll never know, because after that point he left us alone. We soon left too.

            Being a woman in India is tricky, because a lot of women come to India from other countries and do experiment with drugs, ashrams, and tantric sex, or what they believe is tantric sex. I’m studying reproductive tract infections. Don’t try to flirt with me. I should just carry a picture of cervical cancer with me and show it to any future European tourists who hope that I am of the easily influenced, dharma-surfer type.

            Fortunately, the next trip was much better. We went to Tughlaqabad Fort, which was built around 1320, but soon after fell into disuse. According to legend/history a Sufi Saint put a curse on the builder of the fort and it was abandoned. It is not on the regular tourist trail, but it has a very old feel to it, as it was in ruins before it was ever a heritage site. As a result, not too many tourists go there and it was very peaceful and beautiful. We were also there during the late afternoon, so the lighting lit up all of the stones that made up this huge compound.

            The next day my friends were in town and we ended up meeting up at a Sikh festival, which involved a lot of sitting on the floor listening to Sikh devotional music and then sitting on the floor eating food that was prepared for the entire community. It was probably a bit of a culture shock for my friends, but they seemed to enjoy the cultural experience. I really enjoyed the signing, although I’m pretty terrible at sitting on the floor for long periods of time. The food was also amazing, and I’m excited to visit the Golden Temple in Amritsar when I go there in late January. The mess hall in the Golden Temple has a chapatti making machine for feeding anyone who wants food and visits the place. I’ve heard that the Golden Temple can feed up to 3,000 people in a day.

            The next day, my friends decided that they wanted to meet up at the Red Fort or Lal Qila. The problem was that there are multiple entrances to the Lal Qila and we waited for each other for about thirty minutes. Another problem with something like the Red Fort is that white women can get photographed a lot, which I really hate. I try not to photograph Indians, but sometimes it is hard to avoid when I’m taking a picture of a crowded area. There is a big difference between even asking to take someone’s picture and following her with your camera while grinning. Even worse, is when I’m standing and an Indian guy slyly tries to stand next to me while his friend takes a picture. By the end of the day, I was getting up in people’s faces and yelling at them in Hindi. This seemed to shock some of my friends, but the thing is that Indian women would never put up with that. One of my Indian friends told me that if someone tries to grope me, I should grab him by the collar and yell at him until a crowd of people forms around us. So, me yelling in someone’s face is comparatively tame.

            The fort in itself was not super impressive compared to the other Mughal buildings that I’ve seen, but it was a nice historical structure. The best part afterwards was navigating Old Delhi to get to the Parantha Walla, which is a small open-air restaurant that specializes in paranthas, or stuffed bread. I had a radish parantha and a paneer (cheese) parantha. My friends also seemed very excited about the paranthas. Paranathas can make you feel better after getting followed around by the gangliest of Indian teens.

            As you can imagine, Delhi is an intense place. It does not bring out the best in a foreigner unless you are very capable of tolerating alot stimulation and the occasional harassment. The reason that I get so irritated when Indian men follow me around with a camera is not only that it is invasive and dehumanizing, but that it stems from a fascination with white women, which I find very disturbing. White women have a reputation for being sexually loose and I want to do everything to prevent people from thinking that white women enjoy being photographed like animals during a safari. If I act upset like anyone would be, I have the hope that it will show that this behavior is not welcomed and that white women, despite what the prevalence of Western pornography in India might suggest, are human beings.

            I know that Indian women also have to suffer through harassment. But it is more like what I deal with when I’m walking through West Philly or riding the subway in New York. It is covert and fleeting. To be pursued is entirely different and fortunately, much less common for my Indian friends than it is for me. I’ve read subaltern history about how American and Europe exoticizes Indian and African women, turning them into sexual objects. I believe that this is true; and that a European or American opinion is far more detrimental, as those countries have greater media and economic power. Nevertheless, I just wish that what is different and exotic didn’t always have to be sexualized. I’m not sure why the two go hand-in-hand so much, but they do. Why can’t I just be seen as horribly pale and disgusting and we can get on with our lives?

            What I can say is that even though I was harassed, I still really enjoyed Delhi. The impressiveness of Lodi Gardens and the Fort far outweighed a few unpleasant run ins. Most importantly, I never actually felt in danger throughout the entire experience. The weird French guy clearly thought that we were idiots, but we weren't, so we remained safe. Similarly, the awkward Indian men taking my photos, probably didn’t actually expect that I’d notice, care or confront them. In the end, they were the people who looked less-than-human. Throughout all of the experiences, I feel much more composed and in control than when I was in Jaipur four years ago.

            While Delhi has it’s downsides, it is also much more vibrant and lively than Dehradun, and therefore it reminds me more of New York City. In a way, I felt more at home in Delhi than in Dehradun. Also, I only had issues when I went to tourist places in the city. If I were just to live in one city out of the two, I’d probably live long term in Delhi. But it is much nicer to be in Dehradun for the extent of my Fulbright.