India

Cruising Delhi

Story and photos by Cameron M. Burns

One billion people live in India.

We tend to think the United States is getting crowded, but if you have never been to India, you have no idea of what crowded really is. There, people are jammed into every nook and cranny, every car and bicycle, every office and street shop, the way zeros are jammed on the end of Westchester real estate prices.

But more remarkable than the volume of human population, is the Indian ability to get along and tolerate absolutely everything and everyone. “We are a religion (Hindu) based on peace and a culture based on peace,” Prem Singh, a delightful guide in Delhi told me the night of my arrival. “Indians tolerate everyone and everything.”

Indeed, Americans believe their homeland to be the most tolerant on earth, but India’s got the United States beat hands down. At one billion people, India is both the single largest democracy on earth, and a complex melting pot of ancient religions and exotic cultures.

Part of the reason for the great mix is the Hindu attitude toward other religions and cultures. (Hindus comprise over 80 percent of India’s population.) Hindus have hundreds of gods within their own faith, which take on different forms at different times, and the faithful are taught to worship the Supreme Being in all these forms. That also means respecting gods in non-Hindu religions—after all, the Supreme Being is the Supreme Being. As renowned Indian philosopher and former President of India S. Radhakrishnan once put it: “(For a Hindu), tolerance is a duty, not a mere concession.” In other words, Indians are just happy you’re worshipping some deity; it doesn’t really matter what form it takes.

A Tour of Delhi

After landing in Delhi’s international airport, I shuffled through the rows of taxis outside and found a driver who knew New Delhi’s Kanishka Hotel, a towering facility operated by the Indian government. I spent a jet-lagged night feeding Pringles potato chips to the pigeons outside my 13th floor window and marveled at the all-night street activity below.

In the morning, after a wonderful Indian-style version of the English breakfast, I walked out into the sunshine and climbed into a car for a tour of the city. Prem Singh, who seemed to know everything there is to know about India, had agreed to accompany me for the day, and we headed off into Delhi’s overwhelming traffic.

Old Delhi and New Delhi form one city, one massive city, that has been built and rebuilt upon itself many times over the centuries. The city has been around for many centuries, but it has had two significant transformations from its early days as a settlement along the Yamuna River. (Most guidebooks describe seven ancient cities—some eight, but to the modern visitor, the city is more easily understood as two entities.)

The first transformation came in 1638, when the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan (the man who built the Taj Mahal in Agra) rebuilt the city inside massive red stone walls. Shah Jahan’s city was named, not surprisingly, Shahjahanabad, now commonly referred to as Old Delhi. The buildings in this northern part of town are smaller than those in New Delhi—reaching only a few floors into the sky, and of ancient architectural styles.

The second transformation of Delhi began in 1911, when British colonizers announced that they would use Delhi as their capital for the Indian Subcontinent. (They had been using Calcutta as a base of operations, so the news shocked the world.) The British monarchy hired architect Edwin Lutyens to create a capital worthy of the King, and after a lengthy examination of the various parts of Delhi, the British laid a foundation stone for the new city north of Shah Jahan’s Shahjahanabad. A few months of wandering around in the crushing heat and omnipresent flies on the north side of town prompted the British to rethink their plans.

One night in 1913, the English foundation stone was dug up, loaded into a bullock cart, and transported to Raisina Hill, south of town. It was a cooler, higher place with cleaner air. Not exactly the Colorado Rockies, but better than the swamps up north. There, they started building India’s capital.

Raisina Hill is similar to Capital Hill in Washington. All the major government buildings are congregated on top of the broad flat hill, with wide Napoleonic boulevards disappearing off into the distant plains in several directions. The buildings are of a classic European style, size, and dimension. (Unfortunately, Architect Lutyens believed that traditional Hindi architecture was “immature,” and even called one of the grandest ancient Hindu-built cities, Fatehpur Sikri, “the work of monkeys.” History would prove his assessment wrong.) Still, he was obviously impressed by some of the things he saw, and although Raisina Hill looks like a well-organized European capital, there is considerable Hindu ornamentation on all the buildings. The architect later described his designs for the capital as “an Englishman dressed for the climate.”

The most impressive building is the old British Viceroy’s home, Rastrapati Bhavan, a huge palace where the British Viceroy once lived. It is such a huge complex—bigger than Versailles—that it required over 2,000 staffers to run it.

To the east lies a massive arch called India Gate, a monument to the 70,000 Indian soldiers who died in World War I. All the names of the lost soldiers have been etched into the stone. These days, the arch is one of the most visited tourist sites in India, and on any given day, middle class Indians from all corners of the Subcontinent can be seen taking family photos below the great arch. A veritable army of trinket-sellers, monkey handlers and taxi drivers jostle for business around the base of the monument.

While I was casually chatting with a fellow selling pieces of coconut, a cry went out among the vendors. They began running away from the monument at a brisk pace, clutching their wares and jumping over hedges. It seems a local government inspector who monitors that type of business had shown up unexpectedly.

The Old City

In comparison to the uncrowded, wide-open boulevards of New Delhi, Old Delhi is like downtown Mexico City on steroids. In Old Delhi, every street is filled wall-to-wall with humanity and vehicular traffic, all weaving in and out at varying speeds like drunk ants on the verge of a pile-up.

The major attraction in Old Delhi is the Red Fort, the 17th century ruler Shah Jahan’s crowning masterpiece. It is a whopping complex of red sandstone and marble buildings, courtyards and temples. The center for an empire, it even includes several markets within its walls.

When I arrived, I suggested to my driver Rajneesh that he accompany me on a tour of the Fort. He’d never seen it, although he’d lived his whole life in Delhi. I bought two tickets, and we walked up to the gate. The guard at the gate took my ticket, but then told me my driver wasn’t allowed in, because, apparently, he was not of a high enough caste.

The caste system is still a very strong factor in Indian society, and dictates everything from employment to marriage. There are several types of caste systems in India, the two most important being the Varna (“color”) system, and the Jati system. The Varna system, which was created several thousand years ago and has four main classes. Those at the top had the fairest skin and got the plum jobs. Those at the bottom were darker and tend to be agriculturists. Many modern Indians don’t put much stock in the Varna system, but rather rely on the Jati system, which classifies people regionally and even locally.

 Anyway, a quick bribe of 10 rupees (about 25 cents), and young Rajneesh was allowed in. We toured the Fort, then, on a whim, I asked Rajneesh what else of Delhi’s famed attractions he’d never been allowed into see. We then did our own tour of Delhi, which included a brief stop at the Delhi Zoo.

Despite my tour with Rajneesh, it wasn’t until a couple of weeks later when I really saw Old Delhi. An English journalist, an Irish novelist, and I were drinking beer in the Kanishka Hotel, having a celebration of sorts for my birthday. At around 2 a.m., the Irishman decided we should do a rickshaw ride through the old town.

We were amazed by what we saw. Along the sides of every street, thousands of Indians lay sleeping. There were so many that they lay side by side. Most were on the sidewalk, but some slept on top of carts and piles of boxes. Many had blankets, and those who didn’t were kept warm by the bodies around them.

Driving around an area equivalent to four square blocks in an average American downtown, we saw probably 2,000 sleeping people! And of course, among the people were the cows, which seem to be everywhere. The most extreme example of Indian homelessness came when we drove past a type of pallet (a flat wooden support for goods) sitting in the middle of the street. A young boy was curled up on top of it. He had no shoes, and barely any clothes. After stopping the rickshaw and getting out, Michael, the Irishman, quietly slipped a 100-rupee note into the boy’s pocket. But after we realized that everyone sleeping along the sidewalks had woken up and were watching what we were doing, we realized the kid was bound to have the cash taken. Our driver woke the boy, put the bill in his hand, and told him to sleep somewhere else.

We returned to the hotel amazed at just how different India was to anything we’d ever seen. And, perhaps, thinking how lucky we really are.

Delhi is one of the most interesting cities in South Asia, and easily the city with the friendliest people. Time and time again I was impressed by the invitations to tea, dinner, and other events. But I was more impressed by the way the people in Delhi got along.

Sure, they might be tolerant of all religious beliefs, but Indians are tolerant of all humanity. I can’t wait to go back.

Other Information
www.tourindia.com
india-tourism.com
www.tourisminindia.com