II. Delhi Days

I cried four times on the plane to Delhi.

The first, after days of subdued calm in the face of consulate delays and cancelled flights, I dissolved into sprinklers as we finally seated ourselves on our flight out: we were actually, all together, on the way, in one piece.

After 16 hours of flying, I found myself altogether too deeply moved by the 3^rd in-flight movie...

After 20 hours of flying, in a post-sleep stupor, I mistook the small vegetable on top of the Indian option jasmine rice to be a green bean. Chewed and swallowed the whole thing, catapulting into dinner pyrotechnics. I didn't just weep: I exploded into tears.

After 26 hours of flying, I was a zombie. I had lost my new camera in Hong Kong. I had seen Frankenweinie over my neighbours' shoulders 3 times. Isaac could not string words together into a coherent sentence. Though Nancy Reeves had advised me that 10 minutes of centering prayer every hour would do away with jet lag, still nothing can really prepare the mind for the mush it becomes from a full day's existence in one chair in time suspended.

David spent his birthday above the earth. We left the morning before his day and during the first flight, we set our watches ahead to the destination time (as Nancy advises). "Happy Birthday!" I said to him. By the time we taxied into Delhi, it was midnight and his birthday was over. We will celebrate in many new ways this month.

Delhi Airport is spacious and modern, with welcoming wall art and a queue-ing organization to make any Canadian feel at home. As we emerged from the entry hall and into the large crowd of onlookers outdoors, each with signs and standing behind railing, I turned to my family and said, "I'm not afraid of anything as long as Rajni is here."

Isn't it funny how small things can make real something that is so overwhelming that you can't get a mental hold on it? There stood Rajni, waving a sign that read: "Jonsson-Good Family". In Delhi India, someone is holding a sign that has our name on it.

Rajni is my friend from Facebook. She suddenly appeared as a new friend one day before I had even uttered a word of coming to India. She is a young psychologist. After learning of our travel plans, she invited us to come stay with her in Delhi. She and her friend Bhushan met us with warm smiles and loaded us into their car and one taxi, and we motored through open road and small, undulating street, in the haze of late-night street lamps, to her apartment block. 

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In 24 hours, I have seen no squat toilet. The boys have, I understand. But in the Female Toilets in the public places we visited on our first day, the seating is standard – with a difference: a high-powered small spray of water from the back of the seat toward the front. I haven't had the experience yet as I thought it was a flush mechanism, but now that I know, I am glad I didn't use it without being ready!

Rajni finally lets us wash dishes

The nights are city quiet, punctuated by the sound of jet liners flying, I think, 10 metres over our apartment block. Rajni lives on the 6^th floor of a cement-walled building, up a small square outdoor spiral staircase. Her home is sparsely furnished – a day bed as soon as you walk in the padlocked metal door, with plastic chairs around a small centre table. She and 2 room mates live here, each room off the centre, a kitchen large enough for one cook and one bothersome visitor. She will not let me help with anything: not cooking, cleaning, washing clothes. She is small, soft-spoken, sweetly accommodating – and with a will of steel. We are immediate friends.

We surprised ourselves by waking at 7am (read: 5:30pm back home) next day. Bhushan had metro cards for all of us (refillable), and we made the hour-and-a-quarter journey into the main city of Delhi, where we entered, through a series of security points and back-pack checks, the Temple of Akshardham. This temple, in honour of Swami Narayan's witness to Hindu faith, was built only seven years ago – impressive and monumentally large. This story was shown in a series of life-like tableaux installations with (for us) English voice-over, through one darkened theatre room into another. The accomplishments of the Indian people: science, mathematics, astrology, the arts, religion, politics, etc, were also shown in life-like representations along the "shores" of the indoor boat ride we took through time. If I didn't think you would think the less of us, I would repeat the Lonely Planet's description: India's spiritual Disneyland.

Walk through Delhi

On the return Metro ride, Rajni, Nicole and I walked forward to one of the first two cars - which are designated for females only. There was not the insane crowdedness that the boys experienced in their push-to-enter car. However, what I really noticed was that Nicole and I were a full 4 inches taller than everyone around us.

Bhushan became busy with both his phones and ran off on the way home, leaving the 6 of us to take a small motorized rickshaw from the station through the darkened streets to the apartment. As I was sitting on Nicole and Rajni's knees, I did wonder whether it would be me that brought the whole thing over sideways as we drove up over dirt medians and potholed back street.

Happy Birthday, David!

We discovered on our return to the apartment that Bhushan had been on the phone to ask the owner of the local bakery to hold off closing up for another half hour as he had ordered a birthday cake for Mr David! We celebrated with our third curry meal of the day and cake. And small cups of chai. Of course.