Qutb encounter
Feb. 20th, 2008 09:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
keyan_bowesOkay, I officially love Delhi.
Think of it as a chaotic filthy river of traffic and garbage and noise, with unexpected islands of calm and beauty behind walls. They could be as small as someone's house with a lovely garden, or a huge park with amazing ancient ruins...
The Qutb Minar is the latter. It's a tall tower built of carved sandstone, set in a complex of ruins - another partly-built tower, an old mosque, some passageways - and lawns and paths and trees full of parakeets and squirrels. They charge an entry fee now - as they didn't in my childhood - and it helps pay the maintenance. It's Rs10 for locals and Rs 100 (about $2.50) for foreigners.
I went on a Tuesday morning, and it wasn't crowded. The loudest sound was the screeching of the ring-necked parakeets (pretty loud!) and the rhythmic chirping of the squirrels. Aside from a few groups of tourists, the visitors were mainly crocodiles of school children. One group was dressed in maroon sweaters over grey pants or skirts, another in green salwar-kameez, another in navy blue and grey.
I wandered around and passed a bunch of the navy-blue kids who'd been let loose to explore. They were running around, having a great time. As they came to where I was taking photos, they started yelling Hello! and Bye-bye! I smiled and yelled back. Then one little kid asked me to take his photograph. "Sure," I said in Hindi. As soon as they realized I could speak Hindi, the floodgates opened, and I was mobbed by these enthusiastic and boisterous 10-year-olds, all of whom wanted to be photographed. They pushed and shoved each other to get into the frame. It felt like being a Beatle or something.
I took a few shots, then asked if anyone had e-mail. They said yes in the way that means no, so I asked where there teachers were. They joyfully led me to a couple of men sitting on a lawn, asking if I would take a photograph with the teachers. The teachers were very pleasant about it, and I set it up, then realized we were at the wrong angle for the sun. So I moved the whole group around, and took another few shots. The teachers gave me a couple of e-mail addresses, and I gave them mine.
Think of it as a chaotic filthy river of traffic and garbage and noise, with unexpected islands of calm and beauty behind walls. They could be as small as someone's house with a lovely garden, or a huge park with amazing ancient ruins...
The Qutb Minar is the latter. It's a tall tower built of carved sandstone, set in a complex of ruins - another partly-built tower, an old mosque, some passageways - and lawns and paths and trees full of parakeets and squirrels. They charge an entry fee now - as they didn't in my childhood - and it helps pay the maintenance. It's Rs10 for locals and Rs 100 (about $2.50) for foreigners.
I went on a Tuesday morning, and it wasn't crowded. The loudest sound was the screeching of the ring-necked parakeets (pretty loud!) and the rhythmic chirping of the squirrels. Aside from a few groups of tourists, the visitors were mainly crocodiles of school children. One group was dressed in maroon sweaters over grey pants or skirts, another in green salwar-kameez, another in navy blue and grey.
I wandered around and passed a bunch of the navy-blue kids who'd been let loose to explore. They were running around, having a great time. As they came to where I was taking photos, they started yelling Hello! and Bye-bye! I smiled and yelled back. Then one little kid asked me to take his photograph. "Sure," I said in Hindi. As soon as they realized I could speak Hindi, the floodgates opened, and I was mobbed by these enthusiastic and boisterous 10-year-olds, all of whom wanted to be photographed. They pushed and shoved each other to get into the frame. It felt like being a Beatle or something.
I took a few shots, then asked if anyone had e-mail. They said yes in the way that means no, so I asked where there teachers were. They joyfully led me to a couple of men sitting on a lawn, asking if I would take a photograph with the teachers. The teachers were very pleasant about it, and I set it up, then realized we were at the wrong angle for the sun. So I moved the whole group around, and took another few shots. The teachers gave me a couple of e-mail addresses, and I gave them mine.
