New Delhi • India’s capital city is a study in contrasts. While the dilapidated buildings and sidewalks may be crumbling, look closer and you can see evidence of New Delhi’s former glory. Wipe away the dust at your feet and a colourful mosaic of marble is revealed. Walk up to that grimy doorway and you can see it’s also made of marble, a formerly ivory hue. The power lines may be wrapped around that tree, causing you to wonder if that’s why the Internet service in your hotel is so slow, but take a good look at the tree and you see how beautiful it really is.
Don’t worry if some stretches of the busy tree-lined street have no working traffic lights and you have to risk your life to get to the other side — the cars and motorized rickshaws slow down and let you pass unharmed.
Once across the street, the sweet smell of sandalwood beckons you to a nearby Indian arts and crafts shop. Inside, the scent of incense mixes with the aroma of Kashmir tea, lending credence to your romantic notion of what India should smell like and dispelling the nasty rumours of odours of a less fragrant variety.
Rows upon rows of gorgeous silk and wool scarves are stacked floor to ceiling in two rooms of the shop. In another room, dozens of colourful silk carpets are displayed on the floor or hanging on the wall. For a shopaholic, this is Nirvana. Even my male colleagues, who usually steer clear of such womanly pursuits, are impressed by the colourful wares. They help me pick out a few carpets and scarves, offering their opinions on which designs they like best. (They shall remain anonymous in order to preserve their manhood.) I also stock up on incense and tea, while my two colleagues wait patiently.
Fellow explorer of Italian descent Christopher Columbus can finally rest in peace — I have discovered the Silk Road!
After depleting much of the stock at the first shop, the three of us make our way to a few other stores near our hotel, The Metropolitan, where we buy some sandalwood carvings and silkscreen paintings. One of my colleagues buys a heavy-metal Buddha head made out of some unknown material that even the customs agent at Heathrow Airport can’t identify.
Since there is nothing left for us (me, really) to buy at the tourist shops, I suggest we take a stroll through the nearby outdoor market. After all, I want to see the real New Dehli.
The marketplace is bustling with energy as spice merchants flog their fragrant, colourful wares alongside fruit, egg and cotton vendors. It’s here that I finally find the wooden prayer beads my friend has asked me to buy for her. They cost a fraction of what they would have cost in the tourist shops. For a minute, I wonder if I should’ve waited to buy my silken wares. But there are no carpets or scarves to be seen out here, so I’m content that I got some good bargains. And if not, at least I helped support the local economy. Everybody wins.
But despite the euphoria of our mini shopping spree, it is a small consolation for not being able to visit the Taj Mahal, one of the most beautiful buildings on Earth and one of the seven wonders of the world, located just south of here. But this is a business trip and we don’t have time to travel the three hours to Agra.
So, after our short shopping trip, it’s back to the hotel to eat some delicious Tikki Masala, answer some emails (if the Internet is working) and get some much-needed sleep as the next day we’re off to the auto show, the real purpose of our trip.
Three days is certainly not enough time to spend in such an incredible country as India, but it is long enough to realize that I want to come back.
