Delhi Vocabulary
Today has been a tough day- I’ve either eaten something dodgy or completely hit a wall energy-wise, and if it’s the latter that doesn’t bode well for 358 more days (approximately) of the same sort of stuff. I trekked into Old Delhi today despite feeling a little under the weather in the morning, and a ride on the Delhi Metro didn’t help my condition.
The centre of Delhi is one huge market- teeming with people going everywhere and doing everything, and this was on a Sunday, when most of it isn’t even open. It’s a real treat for the senses- if your senses like everything being completely shoved at them, up them, into them and onto them. Partly from this experience, I have decided to start a Delhi vocabulary, just to help you at home understand a few terms here.
The Delhi Symphony Orchestra can be appreciated from almost all over Delhi, but the vicinity of the Red Fort would have to be one of the best sites. The instruments are very similar, but they manage to cover most octaves to give an impressive performance. Once they start playing in time it’s hard to stop their building crescendo. (I hope to add a sample here later)
A Delhi shampoo is free, it doesn’t need water, or for you to be taking a shower for that matter. It’s a perfectly natural process that is experienced simply while walking the streets. After only a day your hair will feel stiff and knotted, like it has been fixed there by a kind of “dust gel”.
The Delhi Indian “head wobble” is a sign from your Indian counterpart that sends a clear signal or yes, maybe or no, depending on what they happen to mean at the time. Most of the time this movement seems to mean that they don’t actually understand what you’ve asked them.
The other list that I feel compelled to start today is one of Indian strangers who have decided that I am the kind of guy who might be interesting to talk to.
Excluding the conversations I have had with rickshaw drivers trying to convince me that I need one of them despite me constantly repeating that it wasn’t going to happen for them today, there were two notables. (They were so notable that I can’t remember their names- this is also being written to try and improve my hit-rate in that department).
Short beardy was in front of the Red Fort, and wanted to know what I thought of Ricky Ponting.
Firstly I was accosted by Muslim father’s kids, who wanted a photo and then were disappointed that my camera couldn’t then print it out for them. They were “collectors of foreign money”, but apparently not of 1c euro coins, unless I gave them two, which I didn’t want to. So then they gave it (i.e. the one I would give them) back to me. Their father engaged me in a conversation for about half an hour, which was nice while sitting in Delhi’s biggest mosque. It was a Sunday, which means that everyone basically comes with their families and spends the day there, the kids running around, the women mainly talking, the men also. It certainly wasn’t as segregated as I have heard that Mosques normally are, and the dress from the women was certainly not too conservative, hardly any full burkas, many more saris than anything else. The women tourists were all given these gigantic floral dresses which made them stand-out like nothing else, and they probably were also the ones (like me) who got charged the Rs 200 “camera tax”, which of course was done without checking whether anyone had a camera- if you look like a whitey you get it. I guess if you knew what was going on and didn’t have one then you might be able to argue and not pay it. I won’t be next time I go back, to climb the tower that overlooks the city.
Anyway, back to Muslim father, a really reasonable guy, like to talk a lot about Allah and how I wasn’t going to heaven for not praying for mankind’s sins five times a day, but otherwise was trying his best to preach brotherhood for all men and not just Muslims. One of those talks that are interesting to have but can’t really go anywhere unless one of us changes our religious beliefs in that 10 minute opportunity.
Today has been a tough day- I’ve either eaten something dodgy or completely hit a wall energy-wise, and if it’s the latter that doesn’t bode well for 358 more days (approximately) of the same sort of stuff. I trekked into Old Delhi today despite feeling a little under the weather in the morning, and a ride on the Delhi Metro didn’t help my condition.
The centre of Delhi is one huge market- teeming with people going everywhere and doing everything, and this was on a Sunday, when most of it isn’t even open. It’s a real treat for the senses- if your senses like everything being completely shoved at them, up them, into them and onto them. Partly from this experience, I have decided to start a Delhi vocabulary, just to help you at home understand a few terms here.
The Delhi Symphony Orchestra can be appreciated from almost all over Delhi, but the vicinity of the Red Fort would have to be one of the best sites. The instruments are very similar, but they manage to cover most octaves to give an impressive performance. Once they start playing in time it’s hard to stop their building crescendo. (I hope to add a sample here later)
A Delhi shampoo is free, it doesn’t need water, or for you to be taking a shower for that matter. It’s a perfectly natural process that is experienced simply while walking the streets. After only a day your hair will feel stiff and knotted, like it has been fixed there by a kind of “dust gel”.
The Delhi Indian “head wobble” is a sign from your Indian counterpart that sends a clear signal or yes, maybe or no, depending on what they happen to mean at the time. Most of the time this movement seems to mean that they don’t actually understand what you’ve asked them.
The other list that I feel compelled to start today is one of Indian strangers who have decided that I am the kind of guy who might be interesting to talk to.
Excluding the conversations I have had with rickshaw drivers trying to convince me that I need one of them despite me constantly repeating that it wasn’t going to happen for them today, there were two notables. (They were so notable that I can’t remember their names- this is also being written to try and improve my hit-rate in that department).
Short beardy was in front of the Red Fort, and wanted to know what I thought of Ricky Ponting.
Firstly I was accosted by Muslim father’s kids, who wanted a photo and then were disappointed that my camera couldn’t then print it out for them. They were “collectors of foreign money”, but apparently not of 1c euro coins, unless I gave them two, which I didn’t want to. So then they gave it (i.e. the one I would give them) back to me. Their father engaged me in a conversation for about half an hour, which was nice while sitting in Delhi’s biggest mosque. It was a Sunday, which means that everyone basically comes with their families and spends the day there, the kids running around, the women mainly talking, the men also. It certainly wasn’t as segregated as I have heard that Mosques normally are, and the dress from the women was certainly not too conservative, hardly any full burkas, many more saris than anything else. The women tourists were all given these gigantic floral dresses which made them stand-out like nothing else, and they probably were also the ones (like me) who got charged the Rs 200 “camera tax”, which of course was done without checking whether anyone had a camera- if you look like a whitey you get it. I guess if you knew what was going on and didn’t have one then you might be able to argue and not pay it. I won’t be next time I go back, to climb the tower that overlooks the city.
Anyway, back to Muslim father, a really reasonable guy, like to talk a lot about Allah and how I wasn’t going to heaven for not praying for mankind’s sins five times a day, but otherwise was trying his best to preach brotherhood for all men and not just Muslims. One of those talks that are interesting to have but can’t really go anywhere unless one of us changes our religious beliefs in that 10 minute opportunity.
No comments:
Post a Comment