If anyone can explain to me what's going on here, I would love to know.

I passed this totally random parade thing in my neighborhood last week and cannot figure out what was going on. First there were a bunch of super old dudes riding all white horses, also wearing what appeared to be real swords. 

Then there was this clan of blue-turbaned men who were marching bare-foot. (Ewwwwww).

After the blue man group came these ladies, who were all sweeping the road for what was to come next...

More blue-turbaned fellows, but this time all wearing orange and sporting some impressive facial hair (not surprising, as this is seems to be a parade of Sikhs, who aren't allowed to cut their hair).

And finally, along came this enormous orange-flowered covered truck. 

So, any ideas what I was witnessing? It must be a Sikh festival of some kind, but more than that I cannot fathom.

Looking homewards....

Apologies, faithful readers, I know that I’ve been quite remiss about posting regularly. The thing is, see, instead of spending my evenings writing blog posts I’ve been busy applying for jobs back in the USA. I’ve been in India for about 10 months now and, knowing how long the job hunt process is, I’ve decided I’d better get a move on.

It’s interesting to reflect that I’ve been in Delhi for so long, but I still feel like I’ve just scratched the surface of this country. Actually, forget the whole country—I’ve just scratched the surface of this incredible city. In addition to the many recognized tourist attractions I still have yet to visit here I find that I discover something new and fascinating pretty much any time I walk or rickshaw through a new portion of Delhi. Below, for example, are just some of the many random things I have stumbled upon in the past few weeks.

Women, covered in paint, taking a bow. 

Horses, charging out of a temple, just outside of a crowded metro station.

 Girl, sitting on a tight rope, with a wheel and a stack of bowls on her head.

A scene straight from Hitchcock's The Birds. These are all birds of prey (Hawks? Kites?) circling over a poor Muslim part of town, searching for meat.

Truly, I could stay in Delhi for another 10 years and still probably feel like this city has so much more to reveal to me (though, if I were going to be here for that long I’d definitely want to invest in an air purifier and Hindi lessons). But it’s also true that living here can be draining at times; constantly having to watch where I’m walking for fear of crazy potholes or drunken autowallahs; pre-planning transportation routes to and from home after dark; difficulty in finding delicious cheese other than pannier (not to smear paneer, mind you. I love panneer! Sauté it up with a little lime and salt—mwah! Delicious!)  And, of course, I miss my boyfriend, my family and my friends.

Point being, although I feel that I have not yet uncovered the mysteries of this city, I’m beginning to glance homewards again…which means I’m blogging less and applying for jobs more. Apologies for the decreased volume of posts—I hope you all understand.

Nizamuddin Dargah

I'd been wanting to go to Nizamuddin Dargah for a long time--ever since I read about the place in City of Djinns: A Year in Delhi by William Dalrymple (required reading for any traveler to the city). Basically, Nizamuddin Dargah is the hidden shrine of a great Sufi mystic (none other than Mr. Nizamuddin himself) who lived at the turn of the 14th century. According to those in the know (er, William Dalrymple) Nizamuddin was really a swell guy--not one of these I'm-Just-In-It-For-The-Money-And-Hot-Chicks kind of guru--but a true believe in equality, faith, humility, charity and kindness. He took on disciples regardless of social, economic or even religious status and was just all about helping the needy and downtrodden. (Nizamuddin and Mother Theresa probably would have gotten on famously.)

[The faithful, at the golden shrine]

 

 

Anyway, given the aforesaid awesomeness of Nizamuddin, his shrine has become a site of pilgrimage and prayer for Sufis around the world. His shrine of hidden on the back streets of the eponymous neighborhood of Delhi and the alleyways are so narrow that you can't just cruise up in a rickshaw but have to sort of meander around the area until you stumble upon lines of flower-sellers (to be given as offerings at the shrine) and crusty old men yelling at you to take off your shoes, to be deposited and safeguarded by them (for a small fee). As near other shrines, temples and religious place where presumably folks are feeling pious, the streets to Nizamuddin's shrine are sadly lined with crippled, elderly, young and pregnant beggars.

 [The floral offerings are for sale everywhere]

[The alleyways to the shrine are lined with folks selling religious offerings, texts, etc.]

[There is lots of poverty around the shrine. Poor little guy]
 

Of course, you can also just follow the music. The loveliest thing about this lovely shrine is that every Thursday night devotees (and some very intrepid tourists) gather to play and sing qawwalis, Sufi devotional music. Each qawwali lasts for about 10-15 minutes and are so haunting that an otherwise non-believer (such as myself) can find herself swept away by the entrancing harmonies. These songs don't seem to have lyrics, but rather a single phrase (probably something like "God is great") repeated over and over again in varying undulating voices. It's beautiful, mesmerizing and almost trance-like--especially when performed in front of a resplendent shrine for swaying masses of the faithful.

 [The qawwali musicians play and sing in front of a crowd]

[This is the best photo I have of the scene--that's me in the pink to the right]

I actually liked listening to the qawwali at the shrine so much that I brought my family there when they visited last week. I think nobody enjoyed having to take off their shoes and walk on the icy marble temple in 40 degree weather, but if you ask them (and please do!) I suspect they'll tell you it was a pretty magical moment--cold feet be damned.
 

Has India turned me into a hippie?

Evidence for Kate now being a hippie:

·         I do yoga by myself in my room about 3 times a week. This is because it is cheaper, more convenient and doesn’t require my putting on pants.

·         I have started making my own muesli to eat for breakfast every morning. This requires me to bake oats. Yes, I am now baking oats weekly.

·         The amount of long skirts in my wardrobe has increased by about 700% in the last 10 months.

·         I basically eat like a vegetarian.

·         Sometimes I meditate.

·         The natural tendency of my hair is towards dreadlocks.

·         The frigidity of my bathroom means that showers are getting shorter in duration and longer in non-showering intervals. (This does not help the aforementioned hair’s tendency towards dreadlocks).

 

Evidence for Kate not being a hippie:

·         I spend 9 hours in an office every day.

·         I wear shoes.

You be the judge.

Nothing says "Badass" like pollution-wear

This is how I look now when cruising around Delhi in an autorickshaw.

Yes, I've taken to wearing my exercise pollution mask even when not working out because the pollution here is so, unbelievably bad that sometimes it feels like I've stepped into some weird post-apocalyptic world where the city is constantly shrouded in mist (read, smog) and dotted by the small fires of the pavement dwellers.


Still, I get harassed a lot less when I'm wearing this thing, so I guess there is some silver lining.