In the morning, we headed for a free schedule sight seeing of Delhi, Our first stop was Jamma Masjid, the largest mosque in India, a magnificent complex built of red and white stone whit a spacious inner yard able to hold thousands of devotees. To take a camera in would have cost us quite a lot, so we took turns walking around the water pool of the complex and enjoying the views on the city from the three entrances pointing to different directions. I marveled at the warmth of the stone, the architecture that allowed air to move freely between the arched portals surrounding the yard, the pigeons fed generously by visitors (not with a birth control food as at St. Marco’s in Venice J and the cold ground under my bear feet that felt refreshing.
The next destination was the Red Fort, the last extravaganza of Mughal rulers. It was at a walking distance so we decided to avoid bargaining with rickshaw drivers and have a stroll. A stroll in Delhi means maneuvering between crowds of people, motorcycles, tea and other vendor stalls, bicycle rickshaws offering a ride, tour guides selling their services, and in our case…goats.
Our attention was frequently pulled to men with exotic tall goats unusually large and colorful. Before we new it we were surrounded by goats of all kinds, and I mean “tight”. From thinking “how cute!” I quickly went to “Goats! More! Where is the path?!” We actually had to push our way through a goat field moving some taily butts manually.
Having paid our tax to the upcoming Muslim holiday Id, we lingered at the enormous line up of people wishing to visit the Red Ford. Eventually, we decided to limit our sight seeing of the Ford to the outer façade and search for a calmer cultural experience.
The national museum was a perfect place to savor quietude. Two hours of Hindu gods carved in stone, wood and paper and our curiosity for classical art was satisfied.
WE headed for the modern part of Delhi and in particular the Conought Place, a complex of circular streets situated within each other. The place is known for its department stores, expensive restaurants and cinemas. Our aim was a good cup of coffee (here in India, many unfamiliar drinks have a familiar name). The place we could afford (yes, there are many restaurants which would threaten any Western middle class wallet) was a modern café with excruciatingly loud pop music, groups of lazing on the leather couches young jeansed Indians, and delicious coffee Latte.
We decided to finish the day with a Hindi movie in on of the new high security movie theatres. A quick snack in the company of friends we had met a month ago in Dharamsala and we were in our comfy seats, ready to cry, laugh and dance with the audience (we were told that and Indian movie is as much about the film as about the participation of the audience in the Bolliwood passions).
The audience was a disappointment – restricted, well behaved and meek J But the movie was grand! The music, the choreography, the acting and the mastery with which the story was told were captivating. It mad up for our lack of understanding of Hindi and brought tears to our eyes and jolts to our limbs. We were so delighted that we didn’t mind being the only ones in the movie hall to hum and dance with the actors. Viva Bollywood!
