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Delhi again
Feb. 19th, 2008 09:53 amLast evening, my hosts suggested a nearby park for a walk.
Out the front gate of the gated community (pretty much all communities in Delhi have been gated over the last five years or so), onto the main road heavy with traffic, and a sidewalk cluttered with rubble, rubbish and life.
On the right there's a taxi stand. It's a tent with a telephone and a sign, surrounded by black cars with yellow tops and lounging drivers waiting for a call. Then there's the traffic court. Along the wall is a row of neatly placed tables and chairs, and wired to the fence above are the shingles of the advocates who will, right there, under the trees and amid the traffic, assist you with your complaint.
Next is a little row of shanties, built with sticks and straw and woven plastic sheeting. In one, a little horse-shoe shaped stove had a fire of broken sticks. Three kids maybe 7-8 years old squatted around the fire, wrapped in brown shawls against the chill. On a curved griddle (called a tawa), they were making rotis for the family's evening meal. Stray dogs lay around sleeping, hoping no doubt for meal scraps afterward.
The park itself is pretty big. I walked in and found a plant nursery and a designated urban forest and a covey of peafowl on the locked latrine. They looked at me suspiciously in the dusk while I took pictures. I encountered two trees full of crows, who flew into a cawing flapping mass and screamed insults at me when I tried to take photos of them. Several trees fruited with roosting mynah birds (they're common in Delhi). They didn't give a damn about the camera.
The weather's cleared and though the trees are still dusty, it's beginning to look more like spring.
Out the front gate of the gated community (pretty much all communities in Delhi have been gated over the last five years or so), onto the main road heavy with traffic, and a sidewalk cluttered with rubble, rubbish and life.
On the right there's a taxi stand. It's a tent with a telephone and a sign, surrounded by black cars with yellow tops and lounging drivers waiting for a call. Then there's the traffic court. Along the wall is a row of neatly placed tables and chairs, and wired to the fence above are the shingles of the advocates who will, right there, under the trees and amid the traffic, assist you with your complaint.
Next is a little row of shanties, built with sticks and straw and woven plastic sheeting. In one, a little horse-shoe shaped stove had a fire of broken sticks. Three kids maybe 7-8 years old squatted around the fire, wrapped in brown shawls against the chill. On a curved griddle (called a tawa), they were making rotis for the family's evening meal. Stray dogs lay around sleeping, hoping no doubt for meal scraps afterward.
The park itself is pretty big. I walked in and found a plant nursery and a designated urban forest and a covey of peafowl on the locked latrine. They looked at me suspiciously in the dusk while I took pictures. I encountered two trees full of crows, who flew into a cawing flapping mass and screamed insults at me when I tried to take photos of them. Several trees fruited with roosting mynah birds (they're common in Delhi). They didn't give a damn about the camera.
The weather's cleared and though the trees are still dusty, it's beginning to look more like spring.
