Our Trip to India: Sight-seeing Day 4
by Siegfried Othmer | October 22nd, 2014by Siegfried Othmer, PhD
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Sight-seeing Day 4
September 19 (Friday)
Breakfast took place in the richly appointed, cavernous dining area designed “1911” for the year that New Delhi became the capital of India. The occasion was the Delhi Durbar of 1911, which celebrated the wedding of King George V and Queen Mary. The king announced the move of the capital on the day of the Durbar, December 12.
We had allotted two days for sight-seeing in Delhi, before going on to Dharamsala. This is an insult to Delhi, of course, given what it has to offer. On the other hand, I had no inclination to see any more of Delhi traffic than I had to. The hotel arranged for us to have a car for the day, and the driver took us wherever we wanted to go.
The first morning we visited the Lodi Gardens, a beautifully landscaped terrain that buffers 15th century monuments from their urban surround. The massive structures were built as tombs for the principals of the Lodi dynasty that ruled Northern India in the fifteenth and 16th centuries. Construction took place at the time of the discovery of the Americas. The dynasty was Islamic, and yet the architecture amalgamates Arabic Islamic geometric symbolism with Hindu iconography, the elephantine deity Ganesha. At the top of the dome on each building we also see the lotus as a capstone.
At the Bara Gumbad tomb and mosque we encountered a smartly dressed Indian gentleman who beckoned us into conversation. I assumed that he was a park ranger or docent of some kind. He became our tour guide of the facility, for which we were indeed grateful. But then he proceeded to relate that the value of what he had bequeathed to us was so-and-so many rupees. I was taken aback, but then I peeled out the necessary bills to pay him. Then it transpired that he wanted that much from each member of our party. Just when did we agree to this? We were learning fast.
Our next objective was the Kahn market, where a particular clothing store had been recommended to us. On the way, we ran into yet another traffic jam. Seeing their opportunity, two young kids appeared next to the car to display their act—-one played his drum while the other exhibited somersaults and handstands. This went on and on, so eventually I peeled out a tip for their efforts. Sure enough, immediately others gathered around with their hands out. I gave away what small bills I had, and just as I exhausted my supply, a young girl came up with her infant in arms. The baby was doll-size. Both were National Geographic-level photogenic. The mother’s eyes were pleading. She was obviously not responsible for her pregnancy, and yet she was entirely responsible for the consequences. The car drove on, rescuing me from my dilemma, but the memory lingered. How can such a denial of human dignity not be a matter of public concern?
The Kahn market was yet another clashing of contrasts. Such exquisitely crafted products displayed in such a dingy and cluttered environment. Everywhere the Indian poor were milling about, looking for their preferred mark, American tourists. By now we were in the heat of the day, and we found refuge in a severely air-conditioned “Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf,” lodged in a second story loft. We just needed some cold bottled water. The clothes shopping was a disappointment. The stunningly beautiful garments were mostly made for the Indian market, not for wear in the US. I did come away with a couple of brightly colored shirts that nicely filled out my wardrobe for the trip.
We returned to the hotel in the afternoon, and spent the waning hours of daylight sitting outside to a pot of tea, as our English predecessors must have done, overlooking the expansive, manicured lawn and garden. We were the only ones. Who wants to sit out there in this heat, the staff must have wondered. We wanted solitude. We intended to discuss Tibetan Buddhism, and in particular come to terms with “The Bodhisattva Way of Life,” which we had all read in preparation for our visit to Dharamsala, the heart of the Tibetan exile community. It was not long before we were deep into the tall grass of Tibetan Buddhist thought. The incongruity of contemplating the life of self-denial of Tibetan sages while being waited on in the lap of luxury was apparent to us all.
Soon we returned to the same place for dinner, but this time on the right side of the glass. As we were being seated, we were told that this was the table that had been frequented by Mahatma Gandhi. With a thick marble top, it was the only such table in the room. All the other tables had been updated to more modern tastes. This table was being maintained in memory of the Mahatma. The matching chairs were made of massive wrought iron, necessitating assistance while being seated. The dinner was marred only by the fact that Sue was beginning to experience a tinge of stomach turmoil. We were observing all the precautions—only bottled water, no raw food items, and lots of hand-washing—but this seems to go with the territory. It’s even got a name: Delhi belly.
One thing that was noticeably absent was any sense of jet lag. We credit neurofeedback mostly for this, because this has been receding as an issue for us over the years with our continued training. But I suspect that tolerance to jet lag also gets better with age, so both factors are in play.
Our Trip to India Continues