Dressing the Part

Sudev and I got to transplant our European coffee + pastries to Delhi the morning after our long trip to Agra. I stayed over at his place near his university (JNU) and we slept in until noon =D Riding his motorcycle through the crowds of rickshaws, taxis, private cars, bikes, carts, cows, and people continues to terrify me even after having done it several times now.

We went to Chokola, a nice cafe in a shopping district, so that he could show off his exotic Asian girl to the shopkeepers that he normally frequents. We had crepes and American pancakes and lattes, such an amazing start to another long day. [picture stolen from Delhi Foodies]I met up with Julia and Nirali to visit Humayan's tomb, who was Akbar's father. It's so crazy to see how all of the history in this region connects together. Humayan must've been a really chill guy because he had the whole thing constructed to have resting places for his wife and barber--either that, or she was really good at cutting Mughal hair.
Later that night, our grupito went to this Muslim slum (Nizamuddin) to listen to Qawali music. Sudev knows some of the musicians and other arts patrons there, so we were able to sit right up front. After visiting a shrine--heads covered, no women allowed--we sat barefoot, cross-legged, pressed up against other bodies, with everyone moving along to the rising and falling voices.

I don't know if I enjoyed the music as much as the cultural experience. The wailing voices were not attractive to my ears; but despite being crammed into this tiny marble square with so many other sweaty people, it was really moving to cover our heads and sway along with the rest of the crowd. Funnily enough, we ended up sitting near some Spaniards: two absolutely beautiful twins and a professional photographer. The girls had an uncle at the Spanish embassy in Delhi who introduced them to the photographer. He was so Spanish--no shame in shoving his camera into everyone's faces. It made me feel really awkward, but at least he asked before taking Nirali's and my photos. If he sends them to me, I'll post them =)

The community leaders coordinated the chaos so well--directing people to seats, collecting donations with ritual hand/head gestures, having two men walk around with huge cloths on sticks to fan the audience.

Coordinated chaos seems to be the underlying theme here in India, and everything that I read in Shantaram is making so much more sense right now--there has to be some kind of secret law that governs the insanity here. Perhaps after I stop vomiting up the two crackers I can stomach every day, I will figure it out and let you know.