Tag Archives: Vasant Vihar

I’m still Shazza from the Block

Couldn’t help it.
J-Lo circa 2002.
I think of that song every time I visit C-Block Market, the place for one-stop shopping in my ‘hood.

It’s not much to look at. Quite disgusting, actually. Blobs of sputum dot the path. Dingy concrete buildings with uninviting storefronts. Seedy looking youths at the liquor store’s take-away window. Bored men loitering by their motorbikes.

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Yet, almost every time I visit this place, I find something new, encounter a friendly face and/or have an “only in Delhi” experience.

Top 10 places in C-Block Market and why I love them:

#10 – Liquor Store – You can’t swing a dead cat in Michigan without hitting a “Party Store” replete with beer kegs, 93 types of vodka, mixers galore and chipper clerks with helpful tips. I’m sad to report that is not the case in my ‘hood. If you get invited to a dinner party, or say, plan to watch 7 episodes in a row of Modern Family on Hulu, you will not easily find a place to meet your alcoholic beverage needs. This shop is not ideal. It’s staffed by surly men who clearly have strong feelings about women shopping for booze. There’s no air conditioning, so the wine is kept tepid at best and near boiling at worst. And unlike every other shop in this market, they don’t deliver. But beggars can’t be choosers.

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#9 – The Pet Food Shop – Tony and I have been thinking about expanding our family. The topic comes up a lot, but we just can’t commit. We still miss Ketta, our psychotic yet loveable cat, who died about 10 years ago. Now a friend’s cat is pregnant, and it looks like a kitten or two may be in the cards. So it’s nice to know this friendly little shop sells cat food, kitty litter and toys.

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#8 – The Book Palace – No bigger than a walk-in closet, this shop stocks stacks of English-language bestsellers and classics. I recently read Sweet Tooth by Ian McKewan on my Kindle and wanted an actual BOOK to contribute to my lending library/book club. The shopkeeper said he didn’t have it in stock, but he promised to find it. The next day, he delivered it to my house!

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#7 – Batra Pharmacy – One hundred 5mg pills of Ambien for $5. Need I say more?

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#6 – Sheviks Toys – When I need a birthday, Christmas or Diwali present for the little ones in my life, I head straight to this shop. From Legos to Bedazzlers, from The Very Hungry Caterpillar to Harry Potter, they have it all. Oh, and there’s a drycleaner in the back. Recently, I popped in to the toy store with my friend, Nancy, who tricked me into picking a belated birthday present for myself, one of the coolest presents EVER: Indian Barbie. Isn’t she beautiful?!
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#5 – Electrician – Tucked in a side alley, the electrician sits in a tiny nook, leaning on his windowsill. All his wares lie within reach of his wobbly chair. One time, a power surge burned out one of our heavy-duty power strips, which caught on fire and melted. Seeking a replacement, I took it to the electrician and said, “I want a new one just like this.” He picked it up, studied it, set it down and said, “No new. I can fix.” I laughed, “It’s MELTED.” But no, he insisted and told me to come back in 15 minutes. I did, and sure enough, he fixed it.

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#4 – Flower Vendors – You have to get here early or the poor flowers wilt in Delhi’s heat. A huge bouquet that takes two hands to carry will run you about 400 Rupees, or $8.

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#3 – Golden Dragon Chinese Restaurant – Lotus Stem Honey Chilly Crispy Spinach appetizer. Yum! Plus, it triggers nostalgia for our Shanghai years with menu items like “Troublesome Chicken” and “Pork Globules.”

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#2 – Sidewalk Tailor – You know how you hold on to clothes that need to be mended, no longer fit or look outdated? I had a whole stash of such things in the back of a closet until last weekend. I finally tossed them all in a bag and headed over to a tailor’s shop recommended by my friend, Mary Catherine. By “tailor,” she clearly meant “guy who sits at a sewing machine on the sidewalk,” and by “shop,” she obviously meant “not a shop.” So the guy went right to work while I stood there, taking in a hem here, replacing overstretched elastic there, cutting a few inches off the bottom of a dress. Then I posed the big challenge. I had bought a cute halter-top maxi dress for our upcoming beach vacation, but the back was too low-cut for a bra. “Can you insert some bra cups?” I asked. “Can do,” he responded, digging through a cardboard box of notions. Lace, elastic, buttons… no bra cups. “Other shop have,” he said. “Finish tomorrow.” Then he nervously spread the halter top over the palm of his hand and cautiously checked out my chest. “Oh, do you want me to try it on?” I asked. He nodded. I held the dress up to me and tied the halter around my neck, pulling the top taut over my T-shirt. This was attracting an audience. Next thing I knew, in front of God and all creation, he reached over and chalked my nipples. Had to be done, I know. And to be honest, it didn’t even seem that weird. Have I been in Asia too long? (Update: The bra cups – and the other alterations – worked out perfectly, all for the shocking price of $6!) Today I took Tony to the tailor to get sleeves cut off one of his dress shirts – done in 15 minutes for $2.

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#1 – Pal Superstore – One word: cheese. And lots of it. All different kinds. About a fourth the size of a 7-11 in the States, this “superstore” is crammed full of goodies to meet our Western cravings. In addition to the cheese smorgasbord, it sells everything from cookies to cranberry juice, Pop Tarts to Perrier, Tostitos to toiletries. The other day, I stopped by to get some Clean and Clear Foaming Face Wash. The clerk found one remaining bottle, hidden behind 17 other brands of face wash. He dug it out and discovered the top had flipped open. He tried to snap it closed. No luck. He smacked it against the wall, but the top popped open again. This got the attention of two other men who may or may not actually work there. One grabbed the bottle, unscrewed the top and made a big show of blowing on it. When that didn’t work, the other guy snatched the bottle and dramatically pressed on the top with both thumbs to no avail. Finally, he gestured to me as though asking, “Shall I ring it up then?” Ummm… I’ll say no to six dirty hands and some spittle on my face wash, thank you very much. But I will take this cheese.

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So, sing it with me, J-Lo fans:
Don’t be fooled by the rocks that I got
I’m still, I’m still Shazza* from the block
Used to have a little, now I have a lot
No matter where I go, I know where I came from.

* Shazza is my nickname bestowed by BFFs in Shanghai. Sounds way more hip than “Sharon from the block,” don’tcha think?

Cue the cows … and … action! Mom and Dad see REAL India

India kindly handed my parents a genuine slice of life during their two-week visit.

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Their taste of New Delhi’s daily grind included: pollution in the “red zone,” several power outages, taps running dry, driver had a row with his wife and didn’t show up to take us to work, housekeeper/cook took a day off for her uncle’s funeral, car broke down, dogs in the dumpsters, cows in the road, street kids tapping on the car windows at stoplights, and oh so many more sights, sounds and smells that keep our anxiety levels higher than healthy.

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But set aside your disgust and frustration, and you see another side of India that sparks appreciation, or at least fascination. My parents also experienced:

The costumes, arts, crafts and music from the state of Karnataka (as well as the exuberance of school kids) at the annual Surajkund Mela.

The get-away-from-it-all Aravalli Biodiversity Park‘s twisting path through scrubby acacia trees and wild peacocks, just around the corner from our house.

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The drumming, the dancing, the sequins of the over-the-top Epcot-esque venue and Bollywood stage show at Kingdom of Dreams.

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The levity and intensity of eight Indian men desperately trying to pick out sunglasses for Dad at Ambience Mall.

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The sneeze-inducing spice market, technicolor sari shops and gilded, spangly, tassled wedding accessories during a death-defying rollicking bicycle rickshaw ride through Old Delhi’s congested alleys.

The comfort zone of mini-America at our school and the American Embassy restaurant.

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The time-travelling trip to the Mughal Dynasty in Agra (Taj Mahal, Agra Fort, Fatepur Sikri) and Delhi’s Qutub Minar.

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The saris, the chaos, the smiles, the 10-minute alterations on vintage sewing machines at the local Sarojini Market.

The posh indulgence of a proper breakfast at the Imperial Hotel – twice.

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The relative peace – not counting slum drumming, the high-pitched drone of construction equipment, and bellows of strolling cows – in our leafy Vasant Vihar neighborhood, with help from lovely Raji.

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Poor Dad came down with the flu, or a cold, or pollution-related respiratory problems, poor guy. But overall, we had a great time! Tony and I enjoyed sharing the ups and downs (and fast curves and U-turns) of life in this place! We wanted to show them what we love about Delhi, but ultimately, they saw it all – the stunning and the heart-breaking. Because, really, there’s no other way to experience India.

(The iPhoto slideshows are a bit lame, I admit. I’m looking for a way to easily link photos from Flickr to make slideshows visible on Apple devices… in the meantime, you can check out the photos at my flickr photostream.)

Sweaty return to India

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.

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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.

Aravalli Biodiversity Park – a diamond in the rough

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!
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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.

A walk in the park

After three months of moaning about the cold and smog, I parted the drapes Sunday morning to find blue skies!

Our little park across the street suddenly burst into color with patches of flowers, so I forced my sleestak of a husband to leave the house and stroll through the gardens.

Grass doesn’t seem to interest anyone here, and whoever planted the flowers clearly hasn’t researched what to plant where. For example, marigolds ringed a huge tree, blooming on the sunny side and withering on the shady side, as would be expected. True, too, for the vast stretches of poppies lining the fence.

If we’ve learned anything as global residents, though, it’s that not everyone does things the way WE do things. And that’s OK. And I should stop judging and enjoy the park.

Blue skies!

See, it’s a GOOD thing they don’t cultivate the grass because these cricket-playing kids would just mess it up.

Napping in the sunshine.

Poppies! Beautiful poppies! (Admit it: You can’t say “poppies” without using your Wicked Witch of the West voice. It’s OK. We all do it.)

Ahhh, fresh-ish air!

So much strolling is hard on us senior citizens.

D-Block Diwali

We live in a southern New Delhi neighborhood called Vasant Vihar, which is split into several blocks. Ours is D like Delhi. Knowing Diwali night traditionally calls for excessive fireworks, we opted to stay around D-Block. To be more specific, we opted to stay on our sofa with an occasional foray to the balcony. Tony tried a few times to grade papers, but ultimately the explosions and high-pitched whistling of wayward firecrackers sent him back to the couch. We were slightly embarrassed when our landlord’s daughter came upstairs decked out in turquoise chiffon and sequins to bring us small oil lamps called “diyas.” Wearing sweatpants, an old T-shirt and glasses, I followed her out to our balcony, where she placed them on the railing. Downstairs, her mother positioned more lamps along the garden wall.

Lights are key to attracting Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth. People leave electric lights on inside, string more lights on the outside of their homes, and fire up numerous diyas, which are placed inside and outdoors, in hopes that Lakshmi will visit and bring prosperity and happiness for the coming year.

Here’s another take on the illumination tradition from the diwalicelebrations website.

According to Ramayana, Diwali commemorates the return of Ram, an incarnation of Lord Vishnu and the eldest son of King Dasharath of Ayodhya, from his 14-year exile with Sita and Lakshman after killing the Ravan, a demon king. The people of Ayodhya illuminated the kingdom with earthen diyas (oil lamps) and fireworks to celebrate the return of their king. … Twinkling oil lamps or diyas were there in every home and fireworks were there too. Great celebrations were held and everyone was happy for Rama to be the King of Ayodhya. This celebration took place on the night of the new moon of Ashwin (October-November). The tradition and the timing continued to be followed even these days. Even today Diwali celebration means happiness, fireworks and sweets. Thus the festival of diwali is in honour of Rama’s victory over Ravana. Among all the legends of Diwali this one is the most believed one.

I made a little video about our evening.

Moving on up

Our shipment arrived on Sunday, shortly after the painters showed up to continue their slothlike work in our three bedrooms. It wasn’t exactly the best arrangement. We told the movers to shove all 117 boxes in the living room, which had been painted earlier in the week. Then we waited … and waited … and waited for the painters to finish the bedrooms so we could start unpacking. Today is Friday, and the painters are STILL not finished.

This is the color in my study. It’s dramatically brighter and pinker than I had anticipated.
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The movers conferring about how to haul all the junk out of two trucks up our narrow staircase.
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Problem solved! They passed the big stuff up to the balcony.
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The living room fills up.
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The moving company, Santa Fe Relocation Services, did a great job. Some of our wooden items have a bit of mildew, and a small piece of wood broke off our Chinese daybed (which also happened when we moved it to Laos), but otherwise we haven’t found any major damage.

Our wonderful new housekeeper has already unpacked all the kitchen boxes and tried to find places for everything, despite the lack of drawers. That’s right: NO drawers in the kitchen. Tony and I have dragged most boxes back to the bedrooms to create some space in the living/dining area for some living and dining. Eventually I suppose we’ll unpack the rest. But not until the painters finish… See a pattern here?