Breakfast was fantastic this morning, fresh juice, vegetable omelette, fresh bread and coffee.
The Red Fort is large and very red. An overabundance of Indian men were in attendance. On the way in, one of the younger ones wanted to take my picture with him and then he wanted Nicola and Jordan in it as well. Nicola didn't want to take part and then I left the picture area and the boy/boys and got what they wanted. Then another boy/young man asked to take my picture and when he called Jordan over, I just walked away and that was pretty much the end of that game.
The size and dimensions of the fort continue to be impressive but fine craftsmanship that must have been involved is largely lost. Narrow canals of water used to run through the complex and the open air rooms providing air conditioning and a beauty that's largely lost on the place now. The reflecting pools and fountains are all dry.
From the Red Fort, we took a bicycle rickshaw to the #3 entrance of the some Metro station where we were to meet our guide. At about 2:05 we suspected something was the matter so Nicola rechecked her email messages only to discover we were at the wrong station. This time we took a motorized rickshaw to the correct station only it was the wrong entrance. It was the #1 entrance, not #3. With some perseverance and much wandering through the market, we did find it. Druj was rather angry and asked Nicola if she'd read his instructions regarding the tour. Had she read the part about buying a metro pass? Obviously not. Fortunately, the anger quickly passed and we were able to being our tour. Druh explained that he were going to get to know some of the individuals who live in Old Delhi, what they do and how the whole place fits together.
I cannot describe the density of people and activity taking place in this section of the city. The shops and small and narrow and piled up on each other going up three or four stories of the building. These building are houses called havelis, a mansion owned by a family and passed on down through the generations. The problem is that they have no owner. Back in 1876 Sapoys, Indian recruits to the British military led an uprising against the masters and won. According to our guide, problems arose when the Indians went to Bahadur Shah Zafar, to become the new leader of the new independent India. Apparently, he didn't want to risk the wrath of the British and turned them down. Without a leader, the Sapoys lost their resolve and the British regained control. Upon doing so they moved into what is now Old Delhi and killed everyone who hadn't fled. When the people were allowed to return, they moved into whatever they essentially became squatters in their new abodes. Title to those homes has been in dispute ever since. Because no one knows if they will be allowed to keep their home, they see no reason for renovating it. We were also told that the families who owned each Havali have become many and so some have moved out leaving the others as inhabitants but not owners again leaving the problem of ownership should renovations be made.
Apparently, this system of wiring works
Druh introduced us to many characters on the street. The old man who writes deeds and understands those written through the generations was lying on a mattress in the doorway to his shop with only half awake awaiting a potential customer which he obviously not anticipating any time soon. We also met the ear cleaner, the guys who make wedding cards, the guy who pours water drinking water for the people living on the street. He pours, the people cup their hands and drinks. There's the guy who makes the most fantastic fried potatoes, better than any French Fry I've ever eaten, the street vendors who make incredibly good lassis (a yoghurt drink) and food that been lauded by the Delhi newspapers. We visited the roof of one Haveli with a fantastic view of the Chamma Masjid (mosque) and the other rooftops of Old Delhi with the modern buildings of downtown Delhi in the background. Finally Druh took us to his own home which he claims is the only haveli owned by a single family in Delhi. He's spent much time and money restoring it. An open air courtyard is located in the centre surrounded by 17 rooms and 57 doors. Each room has an entrance to the room next to it. He showed us one wall off the courtyard into which he'd tried to pound a nail. When he chipped away the paint, he found an ornamental wall underneath which he's since exposed and painted in fine detail. We sat down to a refreshing drink in beautifully carved chairs in his living room. He showed us his bedroom, his mother's bedroom and his grandmother's bedroom. It's not unlike a Central or South American home only built up instead of out due to the shortage of space. He fed us dinner of flatbread and various vegetables with sauces we soaked up with the bread. The only utensil was a spoon with the idea that we mostly use our fingers for eating. Protein is provided by chick peas. Elizabeth would love it.
This guy scoops drinking water for anyone who might want it.
Payment required a trip to the ATM as every transaction in India seems to be done with cash. Druh swerved through foot traffic in the narrow lane on the way to the ATM, a bit of a harrowing experience for the uninitiated. There's a lot of anticipation on the part of drivers and pedestrians on the roads and pathways in India which must result in more than a few fender benders.
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