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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Be Careful

I was a young girl. Not a toddler and not yet a teen. Maybe nine or ten years old. Old enough to be out and about with friends. We were always playing outside. No one wanted to be in the house.

On this particular day, I was with a pal named Paula and her sister Kerri. Hanging on the swings at the local park. I suppose it was where everyone in our neighborhood eventually spent some time. There was also a football stadium, tennis courts and basketball court. So in good weather there was always activity. The wind was always blowing around the distant voices of kids you knew.  It was a middle class neighborhood. Usually not a lot of extra coin but not poor. Everyone pretty much felt safe. We all knew each other.

It eventually became time to leave the park. The girls and I were about to cross the parking lot to head home. A car slowly rolls up in the corner of the big parking lot. One male occupant in a Dodge Dart. Don’t ask me the color. It was probably forty-four years ago.

I do, however, remember what color he was. He was white and looked like the mustached and afroed Gabe Kaplan, who starred as Mr. Kotter on “Welcome back, Kotter.” A U.S. television program from the 1970s.

This man starts talking to us and asking us questions. Then the guy pulls out this thing. No, not that thing!

It was a hand grip strengthener. Back then I wouldn’t have known what to call it. This is an exercise tool that one uses to strengthen their grip. You can search google images to see what it looks like.

Continued to ask us questions -like an important survey. I do not remember any of that long ago conversation but the one thing I can still recall is he wanted each of us girls to try the hand gripper. And we did. No harm in that, right? We weren’t afraid. Just a trio of friendly and super helpful kids.

Anyhow, we continue on our way back home. I say goodbye to the girls and then I head toward my house one block away from theirs. Never thinking about anything except it was a very nice time at the park with my friends.

Well, one of the girls mentioned the guy in the car to their mom. Warning signals must have gone off in her head (as they should have in any adult’s head) so she called my mom and the police. We soon got a visit from the police asking me numerous questions about this guy. A description of him and his vehicle.

That was that.

Looking back, I don’t know what this man’s intentions were and one could almost shudder with the thought. After the police interviewed us we came to realize that it was wrong in some way. But we didn’t even know how or why.

We knew he was a stranger. He wasn’t from our neighborhood and yet we still talked to this nice adult. As innocent children might. Even with all the warnings we received about bad guys and strangers.

I guess that was the introduction to our vulnerability. We didn’t even know it.

“You need to be careful.”

 

 

 

 

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Look Twice

As I walked through the park in Delhi a few months ago I kept my eyes and ears open. I was soaking up the sights. You’ve seen my photos so you know there’s a lot going on in India.

Ran into this guy. I now know it’s an Ibis. I had heard the word but never actually saw one.

I then spied what appeared to be common stepping stones. I look closer because I see writing on some of them.

It’s a white man’s world. I wonder who wrote that.

I kept moving.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw this little guy peeking out of a tree.

Too cute.

I then strolled around the herb garden. Pat myself on the back when I recognize the herbs without reading the signs. But I see this sign.

Oh, I know this. I know mint. Yep, that looked quite familiar. I had, at one time, thought that mint would be a welcome addition to our first garden. Many years ago. I was wrong. It is totally invasive with its little runners.

Helpful hint. If you want to plant mint in your garden make sure it is in the pot when you put it in the soil. The roots will be contained and not creeping into your neighbor’s yard.

I look closer because I still like mint. I’m not holding the invasiveness against it.

But it doesn’t look like mint. It looks an awful lot like another herb I may or may not have been familiar with back in the day. I showed my friend this photo and asked her what she thought it looked like. She, without blinking an eye, said, “Marijuana.”

Hmmmm. That’s interesting.

Anyway, sometimes you just have to look twice.

 

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