How Bazaar

I’ve been trying to ease into India, but this past week I managed to see two very famous Indian cultural sites.  They were two very intense experiences.   Both were amazing, but after the second one, I may need a break for a while:

1) Chandni Chowk is a labyrinthine bazaar in Old Delhi, and it’s so much fun.  (See picture.)  It’s packed and pushy, but you can find everything on sale from chickens and goats to jewelry and clothes to every kind of halal meat.  (There were also cows wandering around, but not on sale.)   The streets were filled with fruit carts, tons and tons of pedestrians, bicycle rickshaws, and motorcycles.  (Because of course you would drive a motorcycle through a teeming bazaar.)  I bought lychees and mangos – the best mangos of my life.  Maybe they’re just the first thing I’ve eaten that wasn’t spicy, but they were pretty amazing.  I had a different variety of mango today, and an Indian friend showed me how to mush up the fruit inside the peel and suck it out the top.  I feel very authentic now.

While in Chandni Chowk, we took a bicycle rickshaw to Jama Masjid, the largest mosque in India.   The emperor who built the Taj Mahal also built this mosque in the 17th century, and it fits about 25,000 worshippers.   They overcharge foreigners for entering (about 10 times the rate as for a native Indian), but it was worth it; in most other countries I haven’t been allowed to enter mosques at all.  We had an incredible sunset view of the red fortress walls of Old Delhi, and it was fun to stroll around  the grounds with bare feet (see other picture). 

2)  Last night, I traveled through another crowded bazaar to see the legendary Sufi singing of prayers – called Qawwali – at a temple called Nizmuddin Dargah.  Locating the temple was an adventure.  After traveling to another part of the city, you have to get sucked into a very narrow bazaar and hope that you end up going the right way.  The sea of people pushed me along, and I knew I was close once a series of Sufi men told me I had to take off my shoes (as is the custom when entering the Dargah).    They took my shoes and tried to give me plates of ritual flowers.  I wasn’t entirely clear what was going on, so I eventually doubled back through the bazaar to rescue my shoes.  (My feet are still pretty disgusting though. )  Fortunately in doing so I also met some Brazilian travelers, and we braced the Dargah together.   The Dargah was the most crowded I’ve ever felt in my life, and an absurd number of people came up to talk to me and try to be my friend.   We stayed for the beginning of singing, which was quite beautiful, but the room was so overwhelming it was hard to feel very spiritual.  I lasted longer than the girls, but after all the beggars honed in on me and literally wouldn’t stop poking me, I decided it was time to go as well.  Maybe I’ll try it again sometime; I’d like to try to see more of the music.