Delhi is pretty amazing in terms of size. The notions "close" and "far" have absolutely nothing to do with what I am used to.
I am stationed in an office at Nehru Place, for 3 nights that seem the longest of my life. Didn't get a chance to see anything, except for the gray buildings packed full with people and goods and drowned in a chemical smell, meant to signal some sort of "work in progress". Most of the time,I drown my attention in work, so as to forget that I am hungry , trying to avoid the spicy treats, to no avail.
Before returning to my depression-inductive-gray hotel room, where I literally make friends with a number of cockroaches, I do get to finally see a pretty interesting place: a restaurant founded in 1959, serving perfect garlic bread...
Silky, colorful silhouettes, in amazingly beautiful sari, would sway around the tables, leaving a trail of glances behind. I am told that Indian women are just as spicy as the food cooked in these places...I am wondering what this might mean, but I don't dare to ask the question out loud. Dinner is followed by a lollipop ice cream that reminds me of anything BUT ice cream.
My brain is accumulating a huge volume of info in a very short time frame.
I am enjoying the ancient TATA automobile that is taking us from here to there, as i am enjoying the look of the people, their expressions...A tourist can afford to enjoy some chunk of what India can show you.
The people I meet along the stay seem to be more than expected. Every step of the way reserves a surprise, good or bad, to prove (once more, if that was necessary), that India is the country of contrasts...And I start understanding, discovering and loving what seems to be a minuscule , but essential element in this portrait: the people, with their adapting power, their white smiles and their beautifully shaped eyes...
I soon have to move to the next pit stop, Mumbai, where i am to see a different India, the one of the Marathi dialect and of the lively streets.
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