We touched down in Delhi on July 14th and after being adorned with marigold flower necklaces on the bus, our sweaty group arrived at the Grand Hotel. The air conditioning of the shiny marble lobby saved us from the extreme humidity of India's densest city. Like the previous hotels of our trip, this one was very luxurious especially compared to the living conditions of about half of India's population; an uncomfortable realization that I transmuted into constant gratitude for our fortunate circumstances.
Driving to and from the many places we visited in Delhi meant a lot of bus time because of the crazy traffic- often caused by nonchalant cows crossing the hectic roadways to find a new bush to graze on. Our tour guide, Manu, was brimming with stories and facts from India's past. He especially captivated our attention with the tale of Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose: India's freedom fighting national hero during Great Britain's 89-year rule over the subcontinent. I was aware of this event in India's history but learning about Britain's nauseating nationalism and the gut-wrenching numbers of lives lost was sobering. And Manu made it very clear that he still feels animosity towards the British for the righteous scar they left on his unconquerable homeland. He drew comparisons to the Nazi regime's destruction of Jewish lives and heritage in the name of German national supremacy. He still refuses to take British tourists on tours similar to how many Jews will still not visit Germany. I have seen firsthand in my generation how these deep wounds do heal with time. History is not to be forgotten but strangers are also not to be defined by their ancestors' wrongdoings.
To honor my Jewish heritage, I must talk about food. The food in Delhi was inexpensive, bursting with flavor, and always enough to share. I tried lentil dal, paneer mahkani, palak paneer, baingan bharta, aloo gohbi, mint chutney, garlic naan, papad, roti, paranath, 5-spice marinated mutton, gulab jamon and so much more. To survive the sting of spice that accompanies Indian cuisine's torrent of flavor, there is only one hero you can rely on. She is fruity and she is creamy. One sip soothes and cools like water never could. She is Mango Lassi and she lassoed our American hearts nearly every meal.
While visiting an antique stepwell, Manu informed us that stepwells were not only the water-capturing centers of life in times before plumbing but also a gathering place for locals to relax in the heat, share ideas, and even gossip. I have noticed that India has built-in places and routines that cultivate natural gathering; The markets and temples here provide a similar purpose as the stepwell. A space and time for neighbors, relatives, and merchants to meet, accidentally or planned, and share news. In America, these spaces have gone extinct. The local markets are now large chain grocery stores and online delivery services. Neighbors build tall fences and kids are restrained to their private backyards. Americans don't have casual community, and they don't know the support they are missing.
After a long day of lecture about the complex calculus behind climate modeling, Professor Ganguly rewarded everyone with an amazing culinary session by his childhood friend and chef, Mr. Sudipto. A six-course tastebud extravaganza that brought us centuries back to the beginning of the Indic Civilization, and forward in time to modern day Indian flavors. Chef Sudipto walked us through the religious, environmental, social, and political events that shaped India's pallet; some of the major changes are owed to the Columbian Exchange which brought potatoes, chili peppers, tomatoes, and more From the Americas to the Eastern world. A bittersweet trade that altered the course of the human race for better and for worse.
We had the opportunity of visiting The National Mission Clean Ganga Project which is an organization funded by the Indian government as well as private donors with the goal of cleaning the Ganges River. Historically, a very holy river that has supported centuries of human populations with drinking water, bathing, death ceremonies and more. Over time, the quality of the Ganges has significantly declined due to the unmanaged flushing of sewage and industrial pollution into the river. It's been 10 years since the project to clean the Ganges began. Over 200 wastewater treatment plants have been designed, constructed, and are actively filtering sewage from communities lining the river that would otherwise be polluting a vital survival and spiritual resource. Even the river dolphins have returned to areas that had been void of life for years. I loved this session very much because I've taken classes about wastewater treatment and pollution management so to hear from an interdisciplinary team of scientists, engineers, and project managers about their timely success story remediating one of the most polluted rivers in the world was...awesome and inspiring.
It was our last day in New Delhi and we still had not really experienced the city. We had toured museums and monuments, been dropped off at universities and outside of nice restaurants, and strolled a very shiny mall near our hotel. After a long day of insightful lectures from Jawaharlal Nehru University, a few of my peers mustered the energy to venture deep into New Delhi by metro and explore "the world's largest tea and spice market in the world" according to Manu. Once Manu said he would accompany us to the market and instruct us on how to get home, I was sold. Eight of us bravely gave up our safe ride back to the hotel, and dove out into the humid unknown in search of a sensory adventure. Armed with portable chargers, wallets full of Rupees, extra water bottles, and a buddy count to track our wide-eyed group, we were ready for the wild time Manu tried to convey to us. The metro was clean and easy to navigate, and even had a women-only car. We exited the station on a street full of people: women selling goods on carpets, men squatting on barriers chatting and staring, tourists photographing the red fort (where the Indian flag was finally raised after taking back power from the British), and hundreds of rickshaw drivers barking for business. Manu ushered two of us onto each rickshaw, and our caravan of four rickshaws was off. I couldn't believe the gusto and reflexes of these hard-working drivers- coming within mere inches of colliding with pedestrians and cars. Dressed in ripped shirts and flip flops, our drivers wove through the crowded streets and safely delivered us for the price of 40 rupees…50 cents. I gave our driver an extra 10 rupees and was rewarded with a two-toothed smile (: We followed Manu like a string of baby ducks towards vibrant storefronts bursting with food. Four-foot-tall bags of popped lotus seeds, and large bowls of almonds, cashews, walnuts, raisins and dates warmly welcomed us into a shop run by generations of one Afghani family since 1960. We all huddled inside the narrow shop and were given a thorough sniff sampler of every tea the shop sold: Assam tea, mango lychee Green tea, darjeeling ("the champagne of teas"), silver tipped white tea (only one crop harvested every 7 years!), jasmine, lemongrass, and rose. Then came the spices: we tasted Ceylon cinnamon bark, long pepper, cardamom, saffron, and black Himalayan salt. The shop also sold premade spice blends for traditional dishes like Butter Chicken, Tikka Masala, Korma, Biryani, and many curries. We were handed red bins to hold our treasures and time to stalk the shelves. Overwhelmed by all the special delights we wanted to bring home, our small crew would convene to see the other's choices and give recommendations for mom vs dad gifts. Finally, with sweat dripping down my back and aromas permeating my thoughts, I settled on my red bin and happily paid for its contents. Our adventurous group gifted Manu the silver tipped white tea as a sign of our gratitude to him for going out of his way to help us. Without him we would've been lost, a little scared, and I honestly probably wouldn't have gone. We said our goodbyes and watched him disappear within seconds down the bustling street. Exhausted from the commotion and shopping, I placed one foot in front of the other towards our temporary home, motivated only by a cold shower and a clean bed.
Comments