Yeh Dilli hain mere yaar, sirf Ishq, mohabbat Pyaar……
Well not exactly. The city is also an immense bubble of Dust. It engulfs you as soon as you step outside the airport and enters all your pores. It makes its way into your shoes and clothes and your luggage. So be prepared to face the wrath of the Dust.
The husband at once starts sneezing and clearing his throat. I try covering my nose with my dupatta but it does little to deter the determined Brownian gusto.
Added to the dust, at once there are several people who flock around our luggage and help us carry them to our transport.
One has to be almost rude and dissuade them since they will not move until payed in dollars!
But we have twelve pieces of luggage and my voice seemed to buried under their load. So I let people bully my suitcases and topple them into the Inova. When the vehicle speeds up, I let out a little sigh. We and our twelve pieces of American nostalgia and finally home.
Later we are told by a good Samaritan that curtness is the only way that works. Politely say No.
Also it is better to set a price for everything before the task is completed. Be it planning a trip in a taxi (by the way taxis are uncommon and are usually intended for a 6 hrs or a 12 hrs use, autos are the Delhi cabs) or auto or asking someone to lug your luggage.
We arrive on a December evening. The sky is already a dark grey, the streets are bustling with crowds and although it is supposedly winter, we are sweating inside the car.
India is truly populous. There are so many people and buses and cars and autos and everything.
After a decade, I hear the almost forgotten sound of cars honking!
No, not even on the 405 or on the crowded roads of Manhattan, where miles and miles of automobiles roll by, did I ever hear cars honking with such energy.
We reach our hotel and are greeted by a polite receptionist with a glass of soothing mango juice. The hotel is in the heart of kalkaji.
It is South Delhi proper. But we are too tired to open Google map and navigate.
That evening we have a dinner of melt in the mouth naan and hot dal makani. I dream about boxes while outside there is no stop to the continuous honking.
The next morning, after a warm breakfast of milk and dalia (broken wheat ) we are ready to face the city. A friend of a friend (whom we meet for the first time) picks us up at lunch time and takes us around the city.
Our first visit is a book store cum coffee/juice shop in Greater Kailash. I am delighted to see Falafel on the menu. We have pita and hummus and a plate of Falafel with a glass of pineapple juice. All the items have an Indian touch and Yes, I am not complaining.
Then our friend (she payed the bill after all….so she is no longer friend of a friend), takes us to a more American sight. A huge departmental store! The Mall is the latest craze in Indian cities.
There is a Movie theatre with all kind of stores from food courts to shoes to clothes under one roof. There is every International brand from Adidas to Chanel. The prices are in rupees but they are exact converts of prices in USA.
We look around and since both I and the husband are not avid shoppers (although I am a die hard Amazon.com fan and probably their biggest customers), we just stroll past the ornamental designs in the corridor. We return soon to our hotel and busy ourselves with the next agenda……Finding an Apartment.
