by Siegfried Othmer, PhD

Sight-seeing Day 5

September 20 (Saturday)

Barbara and Virginia had made arrangements with a very knowledgeable guide to see Old Delhi. Off they went early in the morning, starting in the narrow alleyways of the spice market, densely packed with merchants hawking spices and teas, bangles and saris, all best observed from the back of a bicycle rickshaw. Virginia’s interest in architecture later took them to Humayun’s Tomb, the first garden-tomb in India and the model for the Taj Mahal. Barbara’s interest in Mahatma Ghandi resulted in their visit to the Ghandi Smiriti, a museum at the sacred place where Ghandi was assassinated in 1948. They came back in the afternoon bearing gifts and stories.

Sue and I instead chose the more contemplative option of just exploring near the hotel on foot. There was an astronomical observatory, Jantar Mantar, dating back to the 1700’s within just a few blocks. No sooner had we set foot outside of the gates of the hotel grounds than we were invited by a tuk-tuk driver to go in comfort, such as it was. When we demurred, his invitation turned into more of a command. He warned us sternly of what might befall us once we got to the end of the block. We simply must listen to him. We walked on. He followed, imploring us all the way. Now it was indeed true that there was essentially no one on the sidewalk except for the poor who lived there. But we carried on.

An Indian gentleman in Western dress helpfully informed us that the observatory was still closed for renovation at this hour, and likewise strongly urged us to take a tuk-tuk to wherever we were going. As we walked along, every passing tuk-tuk stopped to invite us aboard. We sent them on. The Indian gentleman continued to accompany us for a number of blocks. Was he really going our way, or was he going out of his way to accompany us? It occurred to Sue that as a citizen of the host country he may have felt some responsibility for our welfare. If he could not hand us off to someone else, then he simply needed to stick with us. In the event, he acted as our tour guide, navigating us across the boulevards in the face of darting traffic.

We soon came to a gargantuan Sikh temple, arrayed in gleaming white and gold. We later found out from Evvy and Kara, who had been there the day before, that this temple serves 50,000 meals a month at no cost, mostly to the poor. The food delivery process is highly organized into one-hour shifts serving 400 at a time. Donations cover the cost, and donors come there to eat as well. Evvy and Kara report that the meal was quite good. Evidently this kind of operation is a major portion of the safety net for the urban poor.

Not very far away was a very colorful Hindu temple, and our guide said that that was the one he belonged to. This humble temple seemed totally integrated with street life, accessible to all. Motorcycles were sitting out front. Such a contrast to the celestial majesty and remoteness of the Sikh temple. Right across the street from the temple was a store for Indian art works. We were casually headed for a nearby bazaar for hand-crafted goods, but our guide suggested we first take a look at this store. Having handed us off successfully, our guide bade us good-bye.

We could not believe our eyes. The store was a veritable art museum. We feasted our eyes at length, but then focused down on some artworks that were unique in our experience. In particular, we were drawn to the metal cast of a young, resting Buddha, such a contrast to the standard formal posture. And then there were the Indian and Kashmiri carpets, largely produced by individual families. This is an anti-poverty program one can believe in, and yet it is not one without controversy. There is concern about the exploitation of children in the fabrication of carpets. That threat exists, of course, but it seems relatively benign compared to the diamond-mining children are forced to do in Africa, and the industrial agriculture they are forced into in the American South, and other such indignities children are subjected to around the world. Historically children have typically contributed to the welfare of the family as soon as they were able. It should be no surprise that this practice survives among the poor. The modern ill that children are no longer in a position to contribute significantly to their family’s welfare seems almost to be a worse fate to me.

With goods in hand, we now readily accepted the offer of a ride back to the hotel. Did we want to do any sight-seeing along the way? No, we said. Nevertheless, the driver took us by yet another store. So that is how it works. The drivers get to supplement their income with kickbacks from storeowners. We had done enough damage. We headed back to the quiet of the hotel.

After Barbara and Virginia returned from their adventure in Old Delhi, we made plans for a spa experience after dinner. Barbara felt queasy during dinner, our second casualty. But it did not stop her from her spa appointment. It had been another great day. Our experience of it had the aspect of time dilation. When one’s surroundings are the customary ones, the brain is not routinely alerted and little is remembered. When one is confronted with radical novelty, together with a tinge of ambiguity and even insecurity, memory stores fill and in retrospect it seems that much more time has been lived than clock time. This is the very opposite of our experience in the moment, where a boring context seems to stretch out endlessly, while an exciting context passes the time rapidly.

Our Trip to India Continues

Dharamsala Day 6

Siegfried Othmer, PhD
drothmer.com

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