Old Delhi Afternoon

On a recent afternoon R. and I took the Delhi metro (which is shockingly modern and clean) to the Chandni Chowk station in Old Delhi (which, while neither modern nor clean, is charming). Old Delhi is what was once the walled capitol city of the Mughal empire, containing many beautiful havelis (walled mansions), mosques and gardens. Years of neglect have obscured the splendor, but some havelis and spots of elegant architecture can still be found. Despite the modern crowds and dilapidation, Old Delhi is still the symbolic heart of the greater Delhi metropolis.

In contrast to Old Delhi, New Delhi refers to the city planned by Sir Edwin Lutyens, a British architect, designed to house the government institutions of the British empire in India in the years after the first World War. And South Delhi, where I live, is the modern urban sprawl of the last century.

Old Delhi is an intense maze of narrow alleys, bustling bodies, tiny hole-in-the-wall shops, and (weirdly) goats. Wandering through the streets with festones of dangerous-looking improvised electrical wiring overhead and your hand protectively over your wallet, you never know what you will find around the next corner. As well as residential areas, the old city contains markets concentrating on different types of goods. For instance, there are several streets of shops selling nothing but spices, while another area concentrates on women's clothing. On this trip we stumbled across the used car parts market, full of buildings stuffed full of old tires, fenders, and bits of gears and electronics spilling out of second floor windows.

Despite the lack of any nearby waterway fit for fishing, several net-makers were selling their wares, as well as muchli-wallas (fish sellers) hawking fresh-looking fishes.






A paanwalla sold paan, little packages of areca nut and slaked lime paste wrapped in a betel leaf. Paan takes many forms and can contain tobacco, digestive and breath-freshening ingredients, or candied fruit and fennel seeds. My sister loves the sweet kind, which seems to be more common in Mumbai than Delhi, while I prefer the kind you hold in your cheek like a squirrel as it slowly dissolves, filling your mouth with a minty/liquorish taste.

















As the light began to fade in the evening, we found ourselves on the steps of the Jama Masjid, India's largest mosque. And just across the road, we ended the evening with dinner at Karim's, a Mughal eatery, where we filled our craving for meat in this largely vegetarian country with lamb kabobs and spicy chicken. Too full to walk, we wizzed to the nearby Chawri Bazaar metro station in a bicycle rickshaw.