Originally posted: January 11th, 2014
I apologize for the long hiatus, life happens. I left off on March 11th, and writing about my travels was quickly occupying an ever-increasing amount of time I would much rather spend exploring and getting lost in the beautifully fascinating city of Delhi than writing. I realized I could write about my journey at any time, but my precious seconds in the foreign country kept ticking away. I decided the writing could wait, I wanted to see as much as I could, engage with as many strangers as I could, and smell the smells and walk as many sidewalks and curious alleyways as I could before my limited time there expired. Upon returning to the States, I got a job, injured myself, took some trips and saw friends, and my duty to my memoirs escaped me. Let’s see if I can chronicle the remainder of my adventures without life getting in the way again.
We pick up on March 12th, which I’ve christened the Day of the Tombs. I had spent much of the previous night staying up writing, and was exhausted as I left Apoorva at work and walked East towards the Isa Khan Tomb near the edge of the city and the Yamuna River. It was hot, with temperatures into the 80s, and despite being the only male not outfitted in dress shirt, slacks, and a sweater vest, I was sweating in my t shirt and loose jeans. The Indian sun rose and began to bake me, which compounded with my lack of sleep, resulted in me taking a seat right there on the sidewalk under a low hanging branch which both shielded me from the beating sun and the notice of the frequent unobservant passerby. I relished the reprieve from the heat, able to watch people of all walks pass by, nearly all oblivious to my gaze. I twisted my backpack strap around my leg (my antitheft device) as I leaned back against a low wall and drifted off.
After an unknown amount of time passed napping on the Delhi sidewalk, I woke up semi-refreshed, and continued East. I walked through a street full of people that had commandeered the roadway and converted it to a living space. It’s pretty easy to be overwhelmed with a sense of gratefulness with all you have when walking through a place like this. The poverty was real, it was suffocating. Uncomforable even. I’d never felt a sense of guilt for having the simplest things, a backpack with two bottles of potable water. I was greeted with smiles, or just stared at. Eventually the roadway mini-village ended, and I was back walking along the yellow and black striped curbs of one of the offshoots of Lodi Road. Eventually I made it to where I thought I was headed, Isa Khan’s Tomb.
After paying a few Rs. to get in, I found myself in a beautiful lush green park with palm trees and high stone walls. I navigated the perfectly manicured sidewalks and up a set of stairs through an archway that opened up into a large, gorgeous, octagonal courtyard with the centerpiece, Isa Khan’s Tomb positioned powerfully dead ahead. The entranceway was in the outer wall and was flanked by a little room on either side, which had wide low stone windows overlooking the yard. I pulled out my sketchbook, sat in the windowsill, and drew for a while, drinking in all the colors, lights and darks that I could.
Sitting here drawing, this group of hippies came in and stood chatting for 5 minutes before realizing I was sitting quietly in the corner with my sketchbook lol
After drawing, people watching, and exploring the amazing detail of the tomb itself, I left by early afternoon and made my way down the street towards the even more grandiose Humayun’s Tomb. THIS PLACE IS THE BOMMMBBBBB dot com
I read some of the informational pieces in the entrance building, I took some photos, I wandered the very green lawns and developed a bit of a following. There’s something about being a big white guy in India that automatically grants you D-list celebrity status. I went to a spot in front of and to the left of the tomb’s main building, walking back, forward, left, right, eyeing up the angles until I pinpointed a spot that offered up an interesting composition. I sat in the soft grass and began to draw.
It didn’t take long for people to come join me. The group, who didn’t strike me as super-wealthy, could have been made up of teens, 20s, or 30 somethings. I find it remarkably hard to judge ages of Indian people. It didn’t help that they were all probably south of 5 feet. They tentatively approached me sitting in the grass, looking questioningly at me as if they were unsure I would want them to join. A hello and a smile quickly alleviated their uncertainty, and they sat in a circle around me jibbering in happy tones. Hardly any spoke english, which was rare, but the bubbly heavyset man could communicate with me well enough for the whole group. They were fascinated with looking through my sketchbook, and even more intrigued by my rubber eraser, a common drawing tool that is unfamiliar to non-artists. We were all happy and content, me, drawing, them, chatting and passing around my eraser to play with (it acts like dough) and asking me questions. It was a great way to spend the rest of the afternoon. As I stood up to leave and say goodbye, they wanted photos with me so we took turns taking pictures with different cameras. Nothing decidedly amazing happened in our time together, just chatting and making jokes. There was no one moment that was unbelievable, but it’s hours like these, meeting strange people and learning about them, that makes the whole world seem a little smaller every time. We said goodbyes and parted ways, and I left with another notch in my belt of human experience.
I explored my way out of the complex, taking more photos and embarking on the long walk back to India Habitat Centre to meet Apoorva and Nilesh, and maybe grab an ice cream for the trip home. The rest of the day surely included a fun ride home, chai, chats with Apoorva and Auntie, a delicious dinner, and some Big Bang theory before bed. Wow I miss those days. I’m getting so nostalgic just thinking about it. In the words of Ice Cube, I gotta say, today was a good day.
Notes. I kinda want to work for the Indian government so I can feel like 007 pushin this James Bond whip
Sorry I haven’t posted for so long. Life happens. Glad to be back in my memory and sharing stories again. Holla if you got this far, I’ll give you a high five or a hug next time I see you.
