Hanuman and Saliva Welcome Me
After a 10-hour midday nap, I have finally ventured into the Delhi streets this evening. Only seconds upon stepping out of the hotel, I found myself in the midst of a massive procession taking place through the narrow market streets. There were out of tune brass bands, costumed men on horses and dozens of brightly illuminated floats driven my tractors in front with small boys pushing the generators behind. It was a celebration of Hanuman, the Hindu monkey god. As a result, there were dozens of ‘Hanumans’ dancing on the floats in wild monkey-like movements, pausing every now and then to hand advertising flyers for a local dentist to the crowds gathering around. The three policemen at the front of the parade, whose duty was to ensure the roads were clear ahead, were quite busy purchasing underwear and electronic items from roadside vendors instead.
In the thirty minutes I spent observing this celebration, I am happy to report that my feet were only spat on twice (although one was of the thick red betel nut concoction type), rolled over by only one bicycle wheel and only stepped in one small collection of fresh cow feces. That is definitely a successful night out on the town!
But my true re-introduction to India this time occurred on the flight from Paris to Delhi, where I met Vikas Kumar.
Before I had even fully sat down in my seat on the airplane, Mr Kumar introduced himself. A small, bubbly man in his mid-twenties, with the requisite thin moustache, dark jeans and navy blazer associated with the growing middle class of young entrepreneurs, he immediately asked me for my good name. Within seconds of our introduction, I was treated to a moment of that typically backwards, yet infinitely lovable, Indian way of conducting human interactions. Vikas handed me his business card, along with some sincere words: “This is my mobile number, you call me anytime if you need anything at all during your stay. Call me next Sunday, we spend the day together, you can meet my wife and friends.” I had not even had time to buckle my seat belt, read the list of in-flight movies or even learn a single thing about this man. More amazingly, since he was the one offering his friendship, he had not even learned a single thing about me.
I loved it! It was the final confirmation I needed that yes indeed I was on my way back to India! What an honorable and beautiful natural instinct – to assume that all people are worthy of friendship upon introduction. “Let me first offer my friendship, my home, my service. Later I will get to know you.”
And now I say goodnight from this fine city. Regardless of the black exhaust that fills each breath, the migraine-inducing honking of horns, the garbage burning in the middle of the street, the constant smell of urine mixing with the scent of freshly baked sweets…there is no place like it, and I believe that the appeal of that fact alone draws people like me to this country year after year.
Tags: Delhi, India
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