Tag Archives: New Delhi

Daily Life, India

Delhi Driving

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What’s your first reaction to this photo?
2012-08-15 11.54.07

If you gasped in shock and muttered, “What kind of fool would get behind the wheel in New Delhi, India?” then we’re on the same page.

That’s exactly how I reacted to the idea of driving here when we first arrived last August. After 10 months of taxi transport – flailing around in the backseats during death-defying U-turns, repeatedly hitting speed bumps/potholes/medians at full speed, seeking out physical therapy for my neck and then undoing those sessions on the roller coaster ride home, and dodging drunk drivers in the oncoming traffic – I guess I figure “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.”

As you know, we took possession of our new-to-us car and driver when we returned to India after the summer. Gilbert, a careful diligent driver, takes us to and from school on weekdays in our little air-conditioned comfy Honda. We’re on our own come Saturday and Sunday.

Last weekend, we awoke to yet another electricity-free morning. I knew it would come back on eventually, but I had work to do that required internet access. I could have called a taxi, but the car sat in front of our house, taunting me. “Seriously? You’re going to take a taxi to school when you own a perfectly fine car?”

I bravely climbed in the passenger side before remembering it’s all backward here. The steering wheel is on the right, and we drive on the left. “Keep your watch to the curb” was Tony’s mantra when we rented a scooter in Thailand, so I kept that in mind as I pulled out of our neighborhood. That was 7 a.m. and the roads were relatively free of traffic. Unfortunately, my driving efforts were rewarded with no internet and no network access at school, so I did a couple hours of lesson planning and then headed home, still early enough to beat the crowds.

Although that morning certainly was liberating, I broke through another barrier Wednesday (not LITERALLY, although that wouldn’t be so unusual here). I drove at night! Yikes! I have mediocre night vision under the best of circumstances, but Delhiwallas keep their brights on, thus blinding all oncoming drivers.

We had the day off Wednesday for India’s Independence Day, so I drove to school, picked up my friend Katrina, drove a couple blocks to a luncheon, drove back to school to work for a couple hours, got back in the car with Katrina and drove to the Australian High Commission for a Zumba class and then dropped my friend Nancy at her house on my way home!

That’s a lot of driving!
In. Delhi.

Katrina only had to remind me once that I was in the wrong lane, and my left arm did go limp with terror when I had to downshift while merging with fast-moving cars coming off the highway. But Nancy gave me lots of props, nonetheless.

Here are some ways driving in Delhi differs from driving in Michigan:

* As I mentioned, the steering wheel is on the other side. But who knew the windshield wiper and turn signal were switched? Every time I wanted to signal, I cleaned the windshield instead. Finally, I just followed the lead of my fellow drivers and stopped signalling my turns.

* Obviously, you have to shift with your left hand. If you are ambidextrous, this may not seem like a big deal. If your left arm is more like a jellyfish tentacle, you can relate to my anxiety.

* Because the steering wheel is on the other side, the bulk of the car is ALSO on the other side. Instead of your body riding close to the curb, your body has to stay near the center line or you will clip someone on the road shoulder.

* Oh, did I suggest there’s a shoulder? There’s not.

* Staying in a lane is not only optional, it’s actually unwise. You’ll never get through an intersection if you insist on lining up behind cars stopped at the light. You must inch around them and squeeze up to the front. Then when the light changes, you jockey for a spot in the crawling mass.

* Never use your mirrors or otherwise look behind you. If someone wants to pass, he’ll honk. If someone pulls into your blind spot, he’ll honk.

* You must remember to honk. This is not an automatic reflex for me. In addition to the honk-worthy situations listed above, you must honk your horn to warn anyone or anything – pedestrians, tuk-tuk drivers, cyclists, cows, dogs, kite-flying children, beggars, motorbikes overflowing with full families, fruit peddlers, parked vehicles, construction workers, packs of youngsters in school uniforms, bicycle rickshaws piled high with cardboard/mattresses/furniture/gas canisters/etc., fill-in-the-blank – lingering in the road that you are approaching.

* Bottom line: Anything goes.

I haven’t ventured too far from home yet, and I certainly haven’t encountered the worst that Delhi has to offer. However, my initial feeling is that I can do this. Freedom!

Dare to get in with me?
2012-08-15 11.55.00

Daily Life, India

Happy Independence Day, India!

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India got a shout out from Google today.
india12-hp

Today marks India’s 65th birthday as an independent democratic nation. Here’s the scoop from wikipedia:

The Independence Day of India, celebrated on 15 August, is a holiday commemorating India’s independence from the British rule and its birth as a sovereign nation on 15 August 1947. India achieved independence following the Indian independence movement noted for largely peaceful nonviolent resistance and civil disobedience led by the Indian National Congress. The independence coincided with the partition of India wherein the British Indian Empire was divided along religious lines into two new states—Dominion of India (later Republic of India) and Dominion of Pakistan (later Islamic Republic of Pakistan); the partition was stricken with violent communal riots. The Independence Day is a national holiday in India. The flagship event takes place in Delhi where the Prime Minister hoists the national flag at the Red Fort, followed by a nationally broadcast speech from its ramparts. The day is observed all over India with flag-hoisting ceremonies, parades and cultural events. Citizens rejoice the day by displaying the national flag on their attire, household accessories, vehicles; varied activities such as kite flying, bonding with family and friends, and enjoying patriotic songs and films are seen.

Our elementary school assembly yesterday spotlighted many of India’s symbols, including the peacock, lotus flower, tiger and flag. Know India is a nice website with more information. A student led the school in singing India’s national anthem, “Jana Gana Mana,” a gentle beautiful song written by the late poet Rabindra Nath Tagore. Check out this YouTube video to hear it and read the English translation.

Lots of kite flying and bubble blowing in the ‘hood today. As for me, I’m planning to crash a single ladies pool party for lunch and then head to Zumba class!

Daily Life, India

Sweaty return to India

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Our first full day back in New Delhi was a sweaty one.The mercury only reached 82 degrees F (around 27 C), but the monsoon air hung heavy even during pauses in the rain.

When we lost power last year (an almost-daily occurrence), we would check the breaker box. If that didn’t do the trick, we’d wait an hour or so to see whether it fixed itself, which it sometimes did. If it didn’t, we panicked. Among the countless lessons embedded in our India learning curve is the fact that our school provides workers who will drop everything, come to our house and solve electrical problems. So rather than panicking when the lights flickered and died and the A/C fizzled around noon today, I picked up the phone to dial the Facilities Management Office. It didn’t take long for the electrician to arrive, adjust our back-up batteries to get a few lights, fans and the fridge back to work. With sweat dripping into his ears, he smiled and said, “No A/C.” Then he pointed to all the big appliances and said, “No this. No this.” And so on. I asked if the problem was unique to our house. He made a big sweeping gesture and said, “Many people.”

He wasn’t kidding.

Screen Shot 2012-07-31 at 7.10.16 PM

According to the Huffington Post article, half the country lost power today when two electricity grids collapsed. SIX HUNDRED MILLION people. Imagine if every single person in the United States lost power; now double that number! It’s more than the entire population of the European Union. Unbelievable.

We’re among the lucky ones. The Huff Post noted that one-third of India’s population live off the grid with no access to electricity in the best of times. Even during the power outage, the back-up batteries kept the ceiling fans circulating air, and our refrigerated food was safe. Plus, our power returned in full by 6 p.m. (No guaranties that it will last all night, but we’ll take what we can get.)

As if a massive power outage weren’t bad enough, I was even more horrified at the sight of TWO monkeys outside my house. Two big, nasty, aggressive monkeys. And where there are two, there are surely more (or they’ll make more). They climbed a fence across the street and ripped flowers off the trees for a snack. One reason I love my Vasant Vihar neighborhood is the dearth of monkeys. We have lots of roaming cows, but up till now, no monkeys. Massive crows squawked at the nasty creatures, and I saw some street kids chucking rocks. I can only hope the monkeys feel unwelcome and move on.

Daily Life, India

A muse on my commute

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I’ve had a couple glasses of wine, and you know what that means! My creative juices are flowing. Tonight, I’m writing about an unusual moment from today’s commute…

Prose first, then poetry? OK, then.
Driving home from physical therapy tonight, my taxi got trapped in Delhi’s usual snarl. I scooted across the back seat to avoid the scorching sun, but 110° F will bake you no matter where you sit. Waiting at a traffic light, I watched the regular beggars on the median. They were wilting in the heat, but desperation forced them off the curb. They circulated through stalled traffic, knocking on car windows and crying out, “Madaaaam! Madaaaam!” In an effort to affirm their humanity, I always make eye contact, smile and mouth, “No, thank you.” Today, there was a minor but interesting twist. A woman shuffled toward my taxi, carrying a drooping little girl. She approached with the usual appeal for money; her knocks on the taxi window inspired the baby, who gripped a coin. The youngster tentatively stretched out her skinny arm and tapped on the taxi window. Its “ting” jolted her out of heat-induced lethargy, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. As her mother obliviously continued with exhausted moaning, the child smiled at me, conspiratorially. I couldn’t help but wonder how much longer a coin’s musical tapping would amuse her. Her time on the hip was winding down, and soon the window rapping would turn ominously purposeful.

Same story, poet’s eyes.
Balanced precariously on her mother’s hip,
bobbling with every sudden noise, so many sounds,
eyes momentarily unfocused on the tangled traffic,
skin peeling – no, simply patchy with sweat and dust.
Her mother, hand turned backwards,
raps with knotty knuckles on the window,
dink dink dink.
Her sequined sari limply draped across her face to block the sun,
Her thumb and fingers meet, gesturing at a hungry mouth.
Her silver ring makes contact,
tink tink tink.
This metal-on-glass melody startles.
The baby’s eyes glisten, suddenly alert, curious.
A precious one-rupee coin clenched in a tiny wet fist stretches out.
tink tink tink.
An innocent smile. A bounce.
A giggle of accomplishment.
A grimace from her mother, whose practiced pleas lose power in the presence of a gleeful child.
tink tink tink.
How soon before the coin’s music loses its magic?

India, On the Road

Three visitors, two weeks, too much to say!

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Yikes, I just looked at that little calendar over there to the right of this post. See it? Whenever I post something, the date changes to brown. Until today, April had no brown dates. I haven’t written a single post this month!

Sometimes a dry spell stems from ennui. Work, home, sleep, work, home, sleep … my usual schedule often lacks substance worthy of a blog post. The last few weeks, however, blurred with activity and left little time to capture it all in writing. Faced with a few free hours for the first time this month, I am ready to make up for my excessive blog neglect.

In the weeks preceding our spring break, we made arrangements for three visitors:
* Tony’s sister Liz,
* Theresa, a friend from my old journalism days, and
* Flat William, a paper version of a friend’s son.

Liz had never traveled outside the U.S., and I worried that India might make her climb under the covers and refuse to leave the house. Theresa was a seasoned traveler, but her emails suggested an overbooked itinerary and I stressed that we would run ourselves ragged. But, surprisingly, Flat William was the most high-maintenance guest of all.

He never made any demands or complained about getting squashed in my backpack, but I felt a codependent, obsessive need to photograph him everywhere I went. Unfortunately, because of his reticence, he would sometimes stay buried in my bag while we toured an Indian hotspot, making me smack my forehead with frustration later when the realization hit. I entrusted him to Theresa’s care on her Rajasthan side trip, but I experienced three days of anxiety that she would lose him or forget to take pictures with him. (I had nightmares of the time my mom fed a Flat Friend through the paper shredder on accident.) Theresa did forget to snap him in front of the Taj Mahal, but at least he got to see it. I sent him home with Liz, who informed me yesterday that he was returned safely to his family. Whew!

Flat William hanging out with Ganesh at the American Embassy School, New Delhi.
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For years, Tony has dreamed of his family visiting us overseas. Finally, he convinced his sister Liz to make the trip to India. When I told people this would be her first international journey, the incredulous responses often sounded something like this: “She lives in KANSAS? And she’s never been out of AMERICA? And she’s coming to INDIA?” I began to panic. I carefully crafted a list of “Delhi Light” sight-seeing excursions. In the weeks leading up to her visit, Tony and I often found ourselves in the midst of an oppressive Delhi crowd, glancing at each other nervously and saying, “OK, we won’t bring Liz HERE.” However, from the moment she stepped off the plane, Liz amazed and inspired me with her willingness to take risks, move far out of her comfort zone and reflect on the sensory overload of India. She barely rested during her week here, dragging Tony all over town to see the sights, making observations that were acute and full of compassion. Tony and I both feel deeply grateful for this time with Liz, and we’ll never underestimate her again!

Tony and Liz at the Taj Mahal.
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Theresa and I worked at the American Academy of Family Physicians in Kansas City way back before I made the career switch to teaching. We hadn’t kept in touch much over the years, except through occasional emails, Face Book updates, and links to online photo albums. When she turned 40, she emailed and said she wanted to celebrate with an international vacation. We were living in Laos at the time, and although I do love that country, I felt compelled to say, “If you’re only going to take one big trip every 40 years, maybe you should pick a country with more on offer…” When Tony and I moved to India, she quickly proposed a visit. There’s no denying Incredible India has more on offer … maybe too much! As Theresa and I planned her trip via email, the biggest challenge was picking the places to go. Knowing Theresa was eager to see the Himalyas, I met with our travel agent at school, who pointed out certain destinations would still be blanketed with snow and unprepared for tourists in April. We finally settled on Dharamsala, home of the exiled Dalai Lama. Theresa packed a crazy amount of sight-seeing into her two-week visit and took about 47 million fabulous photos. Although whacked with a mysterious illness on the flight back to the States, she certainly made good use of her time here!

Theresa on the rooftop of Ashoka restaurant in McLeod Ganj with the Himalayas in the background.
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It’s going to take me awhile to post everything we did during the last few weeks! But stay tuned…

Daily Life, India

Nuts for NUTS

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Jangling bangles, swirling skirts, glittering bindis and big smiles set the stage for a gala evening yesterday at Night Under the Stars, an annual fundraiser staged by our school’s PTA. Indian drummers greeted guests on a candle-lit path past a pink-draped tent photo-opp and down to the AES field, where sponsors’ booths ringed the dinner tables and Mughal Empire-themed props set the mood.

As we lingered in the courtyard next to the field, a school employee quickly pushed me away from a dia that threatened to send my lehenga up in flames. The little traditional candles posed a serious fire hazard to those of us dressed in floor-grazing elegance! However, it was hard to focus on fire prevention while gawking at everyone arriving at the party. Just one formally clad mannequin in a store window here can take your breath away; imagine hundreds of people sashaying by in an unimaginable range of silken styles and colors. The men, in general, wore interesting but understated costumes or suits, but the women stole the show. Rhinestone-encrusted tops and full heavy skirts. Glimpses of skin under carefully draped shimmering saris. Bare-backed anarkalis with fitted bodices that flared into golden trim. Dramatic make-up and hair ornaments dripping with jewels. Delicate dupatta scarves tossed over shoulders. We kept telling each other, “You look so beautiful!” because everyone honestly did.

The visual feast served as a great distraction from my lingering cold and laryngitis. We mingled, enjoyed a nice dinner and even got Tony out on the dance floor. Truly a special night.

This is how we got to the party. No, not really.

AES Director Bob Hetzel gets thronged by the ladies.

Tony shunned a turban for his suit, but you know I love to break out the fancy costumes!

That’s our table in the foreground.

It is NOT easy to dance in these clothes.

Prop du jour: cowboy hat, courtesy of Laura Pitale, another AES teacher.

More shots from NUTS.

Daily Life, India

Taxi epiphany

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For our date-night dinner Thursday, Tony and I went to a wonderful restaurant in the historic Mehrauli District. We called a taxi from our neighborhood stand and got picked up by Mr. Kapoor (not to be confused with the Kapoor who drives us to school every day). As we inched along in traffic, Mr. Kapoor couldn’t resist judging us.
“Most people go out on Friday or Saturday,” he said.
“That’s true,” I admitted.
“This restaurant is very far. Are you meeting people there?” asked Mr. Kapoor.
“No, it’s just us,” Tony answered.
Did we really have to justify our mid-week excursion to a taxi driver? Did he really want to hear that we have made a commitment to spending time together on a school night once a week? It was funny but also annoying.

I had felt a cold coming on, and sure enough, during our date my voice went from normal … to Kim Carnes-esque sultry … to gone. Within two hours, I had completely lost my voice. I contemplated texting in sick on Friday, but I knew several of my colleagues were out, and substitute teachers are hot commodities. I showed up, skipped my in-class support lessons and taught a whispery EAL class before taking off early. Outside the school gate, I walked the short distance to a taxi stand and climbed into a taxi van. The driver called out my address, which was a relief since I couldn’t speak. (We take taxis home every day, so most of these drivers know where we live.) About halfway home, I spotted something that snapped me out of my head-cold haze.

The dashboard components had been ripped out, and wiring hung down around the driver’s feet.

Devoid of needles, the gauges were useless. I was riding in the equivalent of a motorized tin can.

When we arrived at my house, I made several universal gestures of confusion – shrugged shoulders, hands outstretched, crunched up forehead and questioning smile – and then swept my arm toward the dangling wires.
“Why?” I asked.
“Why,” he replied.

I decided to interpret his answer as a powerful commentary on our life choices. Rather than assume the obvious (that the driver didn’t speak English), I am choosing to believe it was a sign.

Why? Why, indeed?
Why do we put up with this silliness? Why worry so much about transportation? Why panic when I can’t find a taxi to take me home after school? Why ride in a bone-rattling death trap? Why wonder if the driver is drunk, crazy or simply reckless? Why stress about getting stranded somewhere?

So that was a long, convoluted way of announcing … we bought a car!

We won’t take possession till the end of the school year (the seller is a departing AES teacher), but I already feel a sense of relief. Even better, we are hiring the driver who works for the car’s current owner.

Ahhhh … freedom.

Daily Life, India

Holy Holi!

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Today is Holi, the Hindu Festival of Colors that celebrates the start of spring with a daylong lifting of social taboos and a rainbow of revelry.

The Times of India delivered these messages from the nation’s leaders.

President Pratibha Patil and Prime Minister Manmohan Singh greeted the nation on the occasion of the festival.
“Holi is a festival of colours that heralds joy, hope and fulfilment in our lives… May this festival bring together all the colours of India’s diversity in a rainbow of unity,” Patil said in her message.
“Let the spontaneity and liveliness of this spring festival yet again affirm the togetherness of our multi-cultural nation,” the Prime Minister wished.

Tony came home Wednesday afternoon with a pink tikka between his eyes, courtesy of high school administrative assistant, Maggie. “That’s good enough for me,” he said. “I feel like I experienced Holi.”

As for me, the long list of advice for protecting our skin, hair and dignity on this day (“wear dental caps to prevent unwanted stains” and “avoid getting attacked by hooligans” were my favorite tips), made me consider hunkering down in bed with a good book for the day. However, I can’t resist an authentic encounter with the local culture. Fortunately, a couple friends got invited to a Holi party, so I tagged along!

The hostess, Sonya, owns a dog kennel not far from my neighborhood, and she welcomed both human and canine celebrants. Our contingent included Nancy, her two kids and their dog, The Dread Pirate Wesley Crusher (Wesley, for short), as well as Drew, Andi and me. When we arrived, there were just a few other guests with their dogs. After receiving some gentle smears of color and “happy holi” wishes, we tentatively dipped into the powder pots and pinched color to brush on each other.

As more people and pets arrived, the party got gradually more raucous. We discovered “tentatively” is not a common adverb on Holi.

I had brought a special guest, Flat William, who is visiting from Kansas. He got powdered, but I saved him from the water gun. (Confused? Google the Flat Stanley Project.)

Tables were laid with tasty treats, but we had been forewarned. Sure enough, platters of marijuana balls (“bhang golis”) made the rounds, along with the traditional Holi drink, “bhang,” a cannabis-milk concoction.

Soon, a pattern emerged.
(a) Allow random strangers to paint you with brightly colored powder.
(b) Get a bucket of pink water (drawn from the pool) dumped on your head OR get doused by water guns OR get tossed in the pool, effectively washing off much of your powder.
(c) Repeat a and b ad infinitum.

When I sensed a plot was under foot to pitch me in the pink pool, I grabbed my friends and made a quick escape. Our taxi pulled up to Nancy’s house, where a group of locals greeted us with purple paste and more hugs. They may or may not have been friends and family of Nancy’s housekeeper.

We left the kids at home and walked to my street, after stopping to visit Cindy and Cyril, who had spent the morning at a different Holi party.

Happy Holi!! (I was told to wear this “traditional” hat, but I’m not convinced that wasn’t a classic mislead-the-clueless-foreigner trick.)

This slideshow features other shots from the party.

Wikipedia has a solid article about Holi that explains its cultural significance.

Daily Life, India

Aravalli Biodiversity Park – a diamond in the rough

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When we first moved to New Delhi, someone mentioned a biodiversity park near our house. Tony and I wandered over to the park entrance to check it out, but the seedy-looking men hanging around the gate deterred us. Picturing a big open area with scrubby bushes and sleeping vagrants, we figured we weren’t missing much.

Last week, the subject came up again. Another neighborhood resident insisted it was a nice place to walk and escape from city smells and sounds. Saturday morning, Tony and I gave it another shot. This time, we strolled boldly past the seedy crowd (who actually look normal to us now) and found a single path that wound through real nature for about 2.5 kilometers. With the New Delhi airport a stone’s throw away, planes roared overhead, but otherwise the park proved to be a genuine oasis literally in our backyard!
Biodiversity Park Map2

According to the Biodiversity Parks website, Aravalli Biodiversity Park – or ABP, as we locals call it – comprises 692 acres on the South-Central Ridge of the Aravalli Mountain Range. Its undulating landscape resulted from years of pit mining, which left deep valleys, ridges and hillocks. Conservationists are re-introducing indigenous plants, developing a deciduous forest, and removing invasive trees introduced during the British Raj. The park features a “fernary” with Aravalli ferns (including a few threatened species), an “orchidarium” with about 70 orchid species, a butterfly garden with up to 40 species, 150 acres of grasslands and woodlands, a conservatory for native medicinal plants and a rich wetland ecosystem.

Teeming with wildlife, the park attracts birders and other nature enthusiasts. Excited about our new discovery, Tony went for a run here on Sunday and saw about 50 peacocks!

Environmental consciousness is difficult to foster in a developing country with such glaring poverty. How can you keep people from chopping down trees for cooking fires? How can you stop the killing of wild animals when people are starving? How can you justify spending thousands of dollars to plant flowers when the park backs up to a slum? So often, municipalities take action that provides a short-term solution to escalating problems. I feel optimistic that Delhi has acknowledged the long-term value of protecting and nurturing its green spaces. For Tony and me, the park has already taken our quality of life up a notch. I hope it will do the same for generations of Delhiwallas.