Old School

A memory of my time in New Delhi, India.

One day, when I first began walking in this particular park, I noticed groups of folks. They were mostly men and just lounging around on the hills or on the flat areas. Some were even catching some shut-eye.

Apparently, they did not have the need to stroll around the park trying to shed a few pounds. Like me.

My first thought was that they were Pakistani men.

Then I thought, “Oh, Mary, what do you really know? You knew a little until you actually arrived in India and then realized you hardly know anything at all.”

There are so many different people in India it’s enough to boggle the mind.

Anyway, whoever they were, good on them for just enjoying the afternoon.

A few days later, I was on a three hour walk around Delhi and its embassies. Ended up on a side street by the park. As I was strolling toward my destination (the park) I noticed crowds of people on the sidewalk near an embassy to my right.

Lo and behold, it was the High Commission of Pakistan.

So, if I were them, and waiting all day on a visa, I would most definitely go across the street and lounge around in the park.

I know. You are probably like, “Who cares?”

My point is that I saw something on the sidewalk that I hadn’t seen in a very long time.

This is a terrible photograph. My apologies. Cameras are not allowed near the embassies so I didn’t want to get busted.

So let me explain it to you.

One man had set up shop on the sidewalk. His customers were sitting on stools. And he was pecking away at a typewriter!

I had to do a double take. I couldn’t even swear that my kids would be able to correctly identify a typewriter in the wild. But I could.

I was curious so had to do a little research.

People who live in India but want to visit their family in neighboring Pakistan need a visa. The only way to do that is making the long trek to Delhi in order to apply for it. Folks from far away villages. Illiterate men and women.

This fellow arrives, who pays a fee to lease space on the sidewalk, and types the visa information for his customers. Page by page.

In this modern age of computers and mobile phones I was truly transfixed. Totally taken back in time and truth be told I appreciated it. All of it.

What’s old is new. What’s old is old.

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Sidewalk

I am going to share some of the people, places and things that I have discovered since being in India. Some in my neighborhood and others in nearby places.

Don’t worry. I am not going to share all of my discoveries at once.

This is my new tailor, Rajender. A happy, good-natured man.

Rajender sets up shop every day (except Sunday) on the sidewalk a block from our home.

I had noticed him on one of my strolls. I mean it is kind of hard not to notice him. He is literally on the sidewalk.

One day I thought I’d go and have a look. Check out this local business. But when I got a little closer there was a big crowd of men so I wimped out and kept going. I just didn’t want fourteen pairs of penetrating eyes on me while I tried to awkwardly make my small talk English understood.

The following day I swung by again. He was at the sewing machine with only one fellow sitting on a motor bike chatting with him. So I went over and introduced myself. Got his name. Asked his hours. Prices. His English isn’t great so the guy on the motor bike helped out a bit. I grabbed his telephone number and was on my way.

So the next day I gave him material to make four zippered pillows. I left him one to copy. He did a great job.

The following day I had him do my husband’s pants. He also fixed one of my T.J. Maxx bargains and hemmed a pair of my pants.

He is definitely not overcharging me. A new hem on my pants cost about $1.50 USD.

Anyway, a lovely fellow. Has a sweet daughter who is the same age as my youngest. She may or may not be learning how to sew. Seems to be more interested in her mobile phone. No different from most twenty year olds. Makes me chuckle.

I never imagined I’d be getting my tailoring needs met by a man on a sidewalk. But here I am. Now thinking it is the most normal thing in the world.

Every time I pass by, walking or in the car, I get a big wave and a smile from my new friend at the sidewalk stall.

I respond with my usual, “Hi! How’s things today? All good?”

They always seem to be all good.

Have a wonderful weekend, everyone! I hope it’s all good!

 

 

 

 

 

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Moving Again

A lot of people ask me if I like living in India.

The answer is absolutely.

Well, except for the air quality. 😦 No good.

Also the temps are starting to rise a bit. Today it is 102 degrees (F) or 30 degrees (C).

Despite those two things I do enjoy being here.

I love my neighborhood. Every day I discover something different, new or exciting. I’m totally learning.

We are getting ready to move. Again. LOL. But only a couple of blocks away. Same ‘hood.

Our house is in a lovely area. But the construction next door was/is driving us batty. It is like Chinese water torture. Every. Single. Minute. Drip. Drip. Drip.

We considered moving to a popular expat area across town.

Big skyscrapers in a gorgeous golf course setting. The apartments are ridiculously spacious-like 6000 square feet. The building boasts a movie theater on ground floor. Along with a gym, coffee shop and restaurant. Even a pub.

The outdoor pool would put you in mind of a Caribbean resort. Swimming through a labyrinth that’s shielded by towering palm trees.

Went to dinner there with my husband’s associate and his wife. They reside there and love it. Who wouldn’t? Very nice setup.

Couldn’t punch holes in it if I tried.

The wife of the associate was gracious. Explained how safe it was.

We totally figured that one out.

Had to register with guards to enter the gated community. Told them who we were visiting. Then we were on our way.

Came upon another gate at their actual building. Same drill. Security fellows allowed us entry.

Last line of defense against solar panel guys, Jehovah Witnesses and people like us who slipped past the first two gates? Yes, you guessed it.

One more smiling fellow on the ground floor of the building. Located near the elevators.

I was impressed with all of the amenities that the community offered. The woman told me about yoga classes, golfing, groups, etc.

She continued, “You’d never have to leave here.”

Ahhhh. And there it was. My hole punch.

I tried to hide my “deer in the headlights” look.

I’d never have to leave the grounds of this secure and closed community.

Which is totally fine for a four day stay at an island resort.

Okay, I understand that there are a lot of folks out there that would love this. Never have to worry about a thing. A pristine, sanitized, happy bubble.

I’m not knocking anyone. It’s just not me. At least, not the me I am today.

I know that no one stays in the community all of the time. They do leave the compound. LOL

We don’t drive here in India (company doesn’t allow) so I do a lot of walking. We have a driver but I have him drop me off at a park or I will just roam our neighborhood on foot. I always feel safe and I am careful.

You lose some independence by not driving. So I regain a bit of it by walking and exploring the dusty side streets. Never knowing what I will see. Monkeys, mongoose or sick bat stuck on a fence.

Strolling through the acres of the public parks with the funky birds and different sights.

I told my husband (we were waiting to hear on one last house in our current neighborhood) if the last house didn’t pan out then we needed to do what made the most sense financially, work transportation, etc. If that ended up being this expat spa resort then so be it.

I’d find friends and make the best of it. And leave the compound every now and again. 🙂

 

In the end, the house in our current neighborhood did pan out and we will move there in the next week or so.

Yay!

It really made me realize just how much I enjoy discovering something different, new or exciting. Each and every day in my wonderful host country. In my colorful neighborhood.

I look forward to sharing my discoveries with you.

 

 

 

 

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Bird Watching

Today, I was looking up into the trees at a local park. There is a bird call that I hear all day long here in Delhi. Belongs to the Brown-headed Barbet. A small bird with a green body.

Took this photo a couple of days ago. Not great quality.

For some reason I associate this bird’s sound with the noise at crosswalks. The one which signals blind folks that it is safe to cross the road.

So all day, like the Pavlovian dog, I just keep wanting to cross the street. Safely. Thank you, barbets.

I looked up trying to find the little sucker.

Imagine my surprise when this is what I see. In the middle of the day. Again, not the best photo taken with my phone. But I think you can figure out what it is.

Then I realize there are two sets of eyes on me.

Definitely not barbets.

So cool.

I was laughing because I attempted to take photos at different angles. In front. Behind. Didn’t matter because his eyes were always on me. Sort of like Jesus’ eyes in a picture my Aunt Rose Marie use to have hanging in her house. Always following. I thought of the old saying, “Eyes in the back of your head.”

It really is fascinating how their heads can do the 360 degree turn thingy.

The first time I have ever seen an owl, outside of captivity, was this past January. My husband and I attended an event at a place in Providence, Rhode Island. A Snowy Owl happens to reside on the roof. We caught sight of him while we were leaving.

Owls are cool.

To me.

I remember when my friend, Maria-Ann, and I ran a resale charity shop for a short while in Kuala Lumpur. We had a cute, wooden owl statue for sale. None of the Chinese customers gave it a second glance.

My friend mentioned that it didn’t give off positive vibes in the Chinese culture.

A lot of folks (from my part of the world) associate owls with age and wisdom.

Plenty of owls (with black, thick rimmed spectacles) on graduation cards in the United States. Every May stuffed owls or statues appear on the shelves in Hallmark stores. Ready to be purchased for the graduate-to-be.

Chinese do not have the same association. Believe owls are bad luck.

I get it. Everyone is different.

Here in India?

Owls are thought to bring good luck around the Diwali holiday.

That’s nice.

If sacrificed.

What?????

Folks looking to improve their financial situation think that the sacrificing of an owl will help.

India protects all of the species but there is a bustling black market that exists. Selling owls for hefty fees. All year round for different cures or luck but especially around the holiday.

You can even pay to have someone do the killing for you.

Now, we all have our beliefs, superstitions, etc. but I’m thinking if a person has to kill a living creature to enhance some aspect of their own life maybe a little regrouping is in order. A look at alternative, legal options in that quest for good luck.

Leave the owls alone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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My Brothers

I have a chat group with my brothers. So we are always texting each other and keeping in touch. Sharing photos. Even if I am in India.

Hate it when they veer off into statistics of a sport on the chat group.  But that’s life.

We are special.

No, mentally, we are sort of okay. At the moment.

We are special because we can get same reactions via text that we would get in person.

Had interactions tonight.

One brother says, “I have guests and they probably think I’m nuts.”

Because he was laughing so loud. He said his stomach hurt.

The other brother said his family heard him and wondered if he was okay.

That’s always how it’s been with us. We feed off each other. Until we can’t breathe.

Everyone in the family just lets us be. Because they know. The ones that marry into the family are keepers because they get it. And love it.

I just want to say I’m incredibly grateful for my brothers.

 

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Walk In The Park

Each day I take a walk by myself here in Delhi. Mostly at a local park named Lodi.

I try and give the Fitbit some action. But I also sit and do a lot of watching. There is always something going on here. More than twenty types of birds. Hawks swooping down with their unique scream agitating the crows. It’s a cacophony that the forty young deaf people doing some type of team bonding in the middle of the field cannot hear. Soccer/football playing. Family photo sessions. Picnics. People working out on exercise equipment. Contortionists in the yoga section.

Starting to see some of the same people each day. An old fellow with what appears to be a radio in his hand. A guy walking a Bull Terrier just like Spuds Mackenzie-except black. Too many young lovers to count. Not sure if they are same ones each day. An elderly man who is undergoing chemotherapy walking with a cane and a young assistant. He wears a tweed jacket that is too big for him and a black Greek fisherman’s woolen cap. A guy playing the flute on a bench in the middle of the park.

India really is incredible. You never know what to expect. Every day is different.

See below for some of my park photos. I hope you enjoy them.

I am all for this.

Wait a second! The back of these signs. I’m getting mixed messages here.

Bird house in the middle of the park? Check out the two photo bombers.

Hundreds of these birds in the park. Never gets old.

Caught my eye. Sacred Fig. Considered a sacred tree for Hindu folks.

Very cool. Section of park that has exercise equipment for those in wheelchairs.

Not the best quality photo. Color coordinated Sikh family photo shoot.

Loved these carvings.

Hijra (transgendered folks) looking for monetary donations from people in the park.

Not sure what the colored smoke symbolised.

Lily pads.

Stepping stones.

I call this one Narcissus.

Sweet potato man. As in the potato is sweet. I am not sure about the man.

Hawks on the ground, in flight and resting in the trees.

Vendor with a lot on his mind.

Palm trees.

Spud Makenzie’s Indian cousin.

I happened upon this crew. A parakeet chowing down with three squirrels.

M for Mary.

A dog just curled up and napping away.

Seriously how does one do that?

I liked this sign. They certainly spelled it out for visitors.

The end. I slip under the chain to exit at Gate 11. Not where I entered. 🙂

 

Hope you all have a fabulous weekend!

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Broken Rituals

About six months ago my husband told me about a Parsi funeral ritual that takes place in India. I had never heard of it.

Parsi is a Zoroastrian community. These folks from Greater Iran fled mostly to India centuries ago to avoid persecution and to retain their religious identity during the Muslim conquest of Persia. Zoroastrianism was the dominant religion before Islam.

That’s just a snippet of a history that could fill books.

Ain’t gonna lie. I was horrified when I heard about their funeral practice.

Sky burial.

Letting nature take its course. No burial. No cremation. Just exposure to the elements on an elevated area. Cutting up bits of the body for the vultures to feast.

Towers of Silence.

I was soon reading about different rituals. It appears that there are many reasons for this Sky burial. Tibetan Buddhists feel it is a generosity for the departed because it’s providing life source for other creatures and they respect all life. Some feel that the body is only a vessel. That fire and burial pollute the earth. Some view the dead body as impure.

Practicality, rather than religion, might have also played a role. The places where these rituals originated tended to be rocky with no source of timber.

India’s pretty cool in a lot of ways. It’s just so diverse and in many ways tolerant of other practices.

This ritual still takes place today.

But there is one small problem. Well, not really small.

The vulture population declined drastically. The birds (the cleaner uppers) were getting sick from eating the carrion of Indian livestock.

Hmmmm.

I learned more about vultures than I ever cared to imagine.

Since it’s India (Hindu) there are 500 million cattle and only 4% of that number is for human consumption. Cows are considered sacred so most people aren’t eating them.

That’s a bunch of cows.

So when cattle die the vultures are a welcome sight. A natural and efficient process.

But due to an anti-inflammatory drug which was being given to the cattle the vultures started dying in droves. Their system couldn’t take this particular drug.

By now I am not thinking about funeral practices at all because I am so fascinated by vultures!

Apparently vultures can make efficient, quick work of any animal carcass and due to their metabolism not suffer the effects of (or carry) any pathogens from their recent meal. Stops with them.

Wow! Truly cast iron stomachs. Except for when humans inject animals with a certain drug.

This decline in the vulture population has led to a host of problems for India.

Huge problems. It was a natural system. And when things break down….

In the 1980s there were 80 million vultures. Today several thousand. That’s unbelievable.

Vultures used to pick clean the carcasses in no time. Now the dead cows and other animals rot in village fields.

Contaminating the drinking water.

And if there are no vultures on the scene? Who takes their place in this pecking order? No pun intended. Who’s on deck?

Rats and wild dogs (India has 18 million wild dogs-seems like about a million on our street alone lol) are all too happy to step into the newly opened positions. But they, unlike vultures, do carry things like rabies, anthrax and plague. And pass it on to us. The humans. Yikes!

Back to the Parsi death rituals. They are still performed but not with the same frequency due to the decrease in the vulture population. Some people are opting for cremation. Those who choose the “old way” will be doing so with the assistance of solar reflectors to move things along. Remember when you were a kid with a magnifying glass trying to use the sun’s reflection to burn a piece of paper. Yeah, that. Same.

I never knew anything about the Towers of Silence. And I did not know much about vultures except maybe seeing them as a menacing backdrop in cute Disney movies. Or observing a turkey vulture munching on roadkill that one time in Lake Tahoe while we whizzed by it.

Pretty amazing to think about it. One small bit of human tinkering can upset a system that has been working just fine. Maybe from the beginning of time. Compromising the health of a nation. And in the process eradicating rituals that have been around for centuries and centuries.

First I was horrified to hear of the Parsi practice. Then I moved on to understanding and sort of appreciating it. I remain sad about the Indian vulture crisis and its effect on the nation.

Lastly, I’m feeling more than a little sympathetic for the Parsi community as they lose a grip on pieces of their tradition and identity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Twinkles

I have now been in Delhi for almost two months. And it’s been totally okay.

No, I do not have any real friends here yet. Think I am fine with that for the moment. So no feeling bad for me. 🙂

Although I have reached out to a few groups and/or organizations.

But I’m taking it slow.

I joined this one international organization. Which is present in just about every country in the world. Designed to connect folks.

Only information I shared was my name, gender, birth date and my nationality.

Haven’t attended any events yet but I get regular emails from them keeping me abreast of current happenings.

Was nice to receive a personalized birthday message from them on my special day.

Sweet that I got a request to connect with Sahil from Delhi. He likes movies, wine tasting, badminton, etc. Checked his profile and he has fourteen contacts. All lovely looking young women. Obviously he was taking quite a risk with me since I did not post a photo of myself to the profile. I’m sure he’s a wonderful person. No, I did not accept request.

Lovely to get invited to “Diva’s Night Out with MEN of Exotica.” I don’t even know what that is. No, I did not attend.

Cute that I got a “Twinkle” in my inbox waiting for a response “Twinkle.” Don’t know what that is either! I haven’t twinkled back.

Yesterday I received an email that said my profile was attracting a lot of attention from members.

Really?

It said, “Click here to see who visited your profile.”

Not quite sure how I feel about this.

I guess it’s like “LinkedIn.” The business social networking service where people can see if you looked them up and you can also see who stalked your profile. No, I do not have a LinkedIn account.

Just didn’t realize that Sahil would be able to know I checked out his profile when I received the original “connect” request.

Think I’m just going to take it slow for the moment.

 

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Traffic Stops

If a person lives in India chances are pretty good that they’ll be waiting at a traffic light and suddenly hear a rapping on the car window.

Sometimes quite startling if you’re not expecting it.

Lot of times it’s a small child, barefoot and grimy, with a big grin and a tiny palm extended looking for money.

Once, a little fellow, who was probably four or five years old, knocked on my window. Saw my face and then hurried to the corner. Grabbed a naked baby out of the arms of the mother(?) and ran back to the car to show me the little one. Used the wriggling baby as a sympathy ploy.

But twice so far, at a particular congested area in Delhi, I’ve gotten the rap on the window and it’s not a child. The knocker (both times) was a transgendered person. With full makeup and an Adam’s apple.

My driver, who is great at keeping me abreast of landmarks and anything I need to know about the area, says, “Man woman.” Or something like that.

Bless him. I was able to figure that one out all on my own.

Transgenderism isn’t new to me. Or to most of us.

But I didn’t know too much about the Hijras of India.

While visiting Jaipur last year I had heard a little bit about this community. Mostly made up of folks that were born boys but never identified with being a male. There might be hermaphrodites in the group also.

Some of the Hijras undergo castration but not all go under the knife.

I learned that the Hijras lived and still live together in colonies. Strength and support in numbers I suppose. They were once revered in society. Going back thousands of years.

Because Hijras could not procreate they were thought to have the power to bestow fertility and good fortune on others.

The British, while ruling India, tried to wipe out the Hijras by criminalizing the community.  Laws were later repealed after India gained her independence.

Today the Hijras could show up, uninvited, at weddings and celebrations of newborns. People give them money for their blessings but also to avoid their curses. Or to avoid them making a nasty scene at the celebration. Like pulling up their skirts and giving the wedding guests a bit of a show.

In the past they went house to house during holidays asking for money. But gated communities and apartment buildings got in the way of their livelihood.

These days, they now resort to begging at traffic stops. Many have succumbed to the sex trade to earn money. Disease, suicide, death from botched sexual organ operations and ostracization take a toll on the community.

Life is difficult for them today.  Just trying to eke out a living. Being different.

In some ways they are accepted as being a part of the urban landscape. But not fully accepted. And many feel the constant effects of discrimination and hatred.

At least they have their community. People who can truly understand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Monkeys

I could write about so many things but I have to be in a particular frame of mind to get the gears grinding for certain topics.

So, today I will just write about monkeys.

I have been in Delhi now for twenty days.

One morning, around 6:00am, I went up to the balcony on the third floor looking for an item. The pup followed as usual. Thumper is a Jack Russell mix with loads of energy.

Out of the corner of my eye I spy two monkeys sitting on the post. I was a bit startled. Immediately hoped the dog didn’t see them. Then I see five of them.

Too late. My Thump spots them and makes a beeline for the ones sitting on the balcony post. They all seemed to scramble and disappear.

Then one suddenly pops back up, leers and leans down toward my dog! Very aggressive and no fear at all.

I’m yelling for my husband, one floor below, who is on the telephone with one of our kids.

Grabbing a golf club, I yell at the monkeys, “Shoo, Shoo!” Or some gobbledygook.

Husband comes up, takes the club from me and runs to the monkeys and they flee.

I was sort of shaking. The surprise of it all and fearing for my dog.

Then they went into the front yard and made a mess. Broke tree branches.

Here’s one of the cheeky monkeys sucking flowers on the opposite side of the yard.

I’m no stranger to monkeys. There were plenty of them in Malaysia where we lived for five years. Especially near the area where my daughter attended school. But I never had the aggressive face to face experience with them in my yard or on my balcony.

I’d read about the monkeys before arriving in Delhi. Current count is 30,000 monkeys in the city. Yes, the city. Not the countryside.

My husband thinks that might be underestimating it. Yikes.

It’s a tricky situation. There’s a preservation a couple of blocks away from our home. Meant to keep the monkeys protected and contained.

But many folks here feed them on Tuesdays and Saturdays for religious reasons. Because of the Hindu monkey god. Feeding them is considered auspicious for the devout.

So I’m not sure why they are leaving the preservation and coming into neighborhoods. Maybe over crowding or looking for more food on the off days.

They are scary. Such a menace, in fact, that there are actually measures in place to keep them at bay.

This is what I really wanted to tell you.

The measures in place are monkeys.

Langurs.

These are actual monkeys (and in these cases-trained monkeys) and apparently the only thing that has deterred the pesky Rhesus monkeys in the past.

Yes, langur monkeys and their handlers have been hired to control the smaller Rhesus monkeys. Until it was banned. But still a black market trade.

Brides have hired langur handlers and their monkeys for outdoor weddings to keep the smaller monkeys away so they don’t ruin the special day.

They’re even hired to guard the homes of political leaders, judges, and other VVIPs.

Thankfully, I haven’t seen them on our property since that first week but I certainly plan on remaining vigilant. Extremely vigilant!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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