01:15 IST
Downstairs Room, Inderpuri
New Delhi, India
I haven't written a thing in ages. And it is so silly of me, not to write, because I think of writing all the time. The thoughts stick on to me like lard. And I bloat. Yuck.
So I recently met a professor friend of mine who convinced me to pursue the Dadi Project as a formal research project - expand and set it into a framework to do a full-time PhD in it. Wow. I have thought about (so far)
- human geography - culture geography, psycho geography, historical geography
- mobilities
- gender studies (?)
I am yet to figure WHAT all this means :/
So I decided to get myself relevant books from BCL. And got two - Introducing Human Geography and Women Travellers of Colonial India. Quite excited to read them. Keeping fingers crossed that I DO read them. (I end up not reading most books. (Sigh)
Oh and before going to BCL, I got ready to go to BCL (hahahaha I'm so not funny). No, I took a long video of the people of the house. Dadi was sitting demurely on her chair by the phone and shouting a mobile phone number at the top of her voice to her deaf sister who refuses to wear hearing aid :/ Poor dadi was shouting and her neck began to hurt even more intensely.
I was also rather miffed at the boi. We had planned to meet and eat and watch a film and just be merry, when he called at the last minute to change it all for an exploratory walk in Old Delhi with his aunt. He asked me if I wanted to join. An exploratory walk in Old Delhi? And I have my little handycam. How the hell could I refuse!? Walking has been the only constant in my entire pointless existence of 26 years. It is just something I do, on autopilot, when I do nothing, which is pretty much all the time. It is rather liberating, the act of walking. Why? Well, there is a continuous movement of the limbs. It gives me a sense of going 'somewhere', even if I have no clue as to where that might be. It forces my senses to stay alert at all times - especially the walks in Delhi - traffic of all kinds just comes right at you from all directions. It heightens the hearing, sharpens the smell, focuses the eyes, sensitises the touch - or has the exact opposite affect on all. Depends on how you take it.
I am no historian, not even a history enthusiast. I simply enjoy walking - small alleys, busy markets, large ruins. I love touching the stones of structures, feeling the texture, recreating the space of grandeur of the bygone era. The space comes alive with snippets of stories of people from the by-default lovely companions I get. So today it was visiting Bulbuli Khan - an area of Old Delhi close to Turkman Gate. We went to look for Raziya Sultan's tomb. The fun gang met outside Regal Cinema, took an auto till Turkman Gate, took a rikshaw till Bulbuli Khana. Asked one of the shopkeepers for the tomb, and walked inside alleys that got narrower and narrower and narrower. The mausoleum was not a mausoleum because mausoleums are closed spaces. This one was open. Two tombs lay side by side upon entering a gate. There was a masjid as well (I forget whose now). Nice and peaceful. Lots of mongoose on the loose :/ I get scared of their long bodies and unfriendly eyes and constant hissing. Came out and boi started playing cricket with the young lads of the area. They play cricket within such narrow confines! Guess people, especially kids manage to find their little space of joy in pretty much any space. All a matter of adapting, and kids are beautiful at it. Stay a child in your mind. We wandered about, took pictures of alleys and streets and staircases and corridoor and bicycles and faces - lots of faces - half moon smiles and little O's of smoke and twinkling eyes and wrinkled brows. We had the ultra sweet bamboo juice. My tummy expanded. We waddled to Kalan Masjid - a mosque built by Feroz Shah Tuglaq, one of the rulers of the country at a point I can't seem to remember. The masjid was white and green. Very bright green. The green hurt the eyes. We entered through a bright green iron gate, up steep steps, into an open courtyard. Very pretty, very clean, very green. The space was completely empty. How lovely to have massive empty spaces amidst the chaotic drives of the area? We clicked around for a bit then went out. More shopping and meandering (I'm getting a bit bored of writing now) and through a series of events we made our way back to our respective homes. I love walking. That's the lesson of the day. Because before reaching home - we walked around Turkman gate. We walked from Regal till palika bazaar and then all the way to ashoka road, jantar mantar lane before finally reaching the metro station. I could still walk. I really do love walking.
Dadi talked. She enjoys it. Talking. She talked about gandi gully (must check it), why she introduced salwar suits as uniforms (uniformity honi chahiye aur practical hona chahiye. sari mein kahan aap galiyon mein aate firoge), there were no muslim students in her time. I didn't understand that bit at all. Why not? Was it because it was called Sri Lakhsmi Girls Senior Secondary School? Lakshmi? And when I asked her why the school did not produce toppers like it used to in her time, she said that all the rich businessmen's daughters have left the area. Muslims have joined. Maybe I was not interpreting it right? But it left me feeling rather uncomfortable :/
Downstairs Room, Inderpuri
New Delhi, India
I haven't written a thing in ages. And it is so silly of me, not to write, because I think of writing all the time. The thoughts stick on to me like lard. And I bloat. Yuck.
So I recently met a professor friend of mine who convinced me to pursue the Dadi Project as a formal research project - expand and set it into a framework to do a full-time PhD in it. Wow. I have thought about (so far)
- human geography - culture geography, psycho geography, historical geography
- mobilities
- gender studies (?)
I am yet to figure WHAT all this means :/
So I decided to get myself relevant books from BCL. And got two - Introducing Human Geography and Women Travellers of Colonial India. Quite excited to read them. Keeping fingers crossed that I DO read them. (I end up not reading most books. (Sigh)
Oh and before going to BCL, I got ready to go to BCL (hahahaha I'm so not funny). No, I took a long video of the people of the house. Dadi was sitting demurely on her chair by the phone and shouting a mobile phone number at the top of her voice to her deaf sister who refuses to wear hearing aid :/ Poor dadi was shouting and her neck began to hurt even more intensely.
I was also rather miffed at the boi. We had planned to meet and eat and watch a film and just be merry, when he called at the last minute to change it all for an exploratory walk in Old Delhi with his aunt. He asked me if I wanted to join. An exploratory walk in Old Delhi? And I have my little handycam. How the hell could I refuse!? Walking has been the only constant in my entire pointless existence of 26 years. It is just something I do, on autopilot, when I do nothing, which is pretty much all the time. It is rather liberating, the act of walking. Why? Well, there is a continuous movement of the limbs. It gives me a sense of going 'somewhere', even if I have no clue as to where that might be. It forces my senses to stay alert at all times - especially the walks in Delhi - traffic of all kinds just comes right at you from all directions. It heightens the hearing, sharpens the smell, focuses the eyes, sensitises the touch - or has the exact opposite affect on all. Depends on how you take it.
I am no historian, not even a history enthusiast. I simply enjoy walking - small alleys, busy markets, large ruins. I love touching the stones of structures, feeling the texture, recreating the space of grandeur of the bygone era. The space comes alive with snippets of stories of people from the by-default lovely companions I get. So today it was visiting Bulbuli Khan - an area of Old Delhi close to Turkman Gate. We went to look for Raziya Sultan's tomb. The fun gang met outside Regal Cinema, took an auto till Turkman Gate, took a rikshaw till Bulbuli Khana. Asked one of the shopkeepers for the tomb, and walked inside alleys that got narrower and narrower and narrower. The mausoleum was not a mausoleum because mausoleums are closed spaces. This one was open. Two tombs lay side by side upon entering a gate. There was a masjid as well (I forget whose now). Nice and peaceful. Lots of mongoose on the loose :/ I get scared of their long bodies and unfriendly eyes and constant hissing. Came out and boi started playing cricket with the young lads of the area. They play cricket within such narrow confines! Guess people, especially kids manage to find their little space of joy in pretty much any space. All a matter of adapting, and kids are beautiful at it. Stay a child in your mind. We wandered about, took pictures of alleys and streets and staircases and corridoor and bicycles and faces - lots of faces - half moon smiles and little O's of smoke and twinkling eyes and wrinkled brows. We had the ultra sweet bamboo juice. My tummy expanded. We waddled to Kalan Masjid - a mosque built by Feroz Shah Tuglaq, one of the rulers of the country at a point I can't seem to remember. The masjid was white and green. Very bright green. The green hurt the eyes. We entered through a bright green iron gate, up steep steps, into an open courtyard. Very pretty, very clean, very green. The space was completely empty. How lovely to have massive empty spaces amidst the chaotic drives of the area? We clicked around for a bit then went out. More shopping and meandering (I'm getting a bit bored of writing now) and through a series of events we made our way back to our respective homes. I love walking. That's the lesson of the day. Because before reaching home - we walked around Turkman gate. We walked from Regal till palika bazaar and then all the way to ashoka road, jantar mantar lane before finally reaching the metro station. I could still walk. I really do love walking.
Dadi talked. She enjoys it. Talking. She talked about gandi gully (must check it), why she introduced salwar suits as uniforms (uniformity honi chahiye aur practical hona chahiye. sari mein kahan aap galiyon mein aate firoge), there were no muslim students in her time. I didn't understand that bit at all. Why not? Was it because it was called Sri Lakhsmi Girls Senior Secondary School? Lakshmi? And when I asked her why the school did not produce toppers like it used to in her time, she said that all the rich businessmen's daughters have left the area. Muslims have joined. Maybe I was not interpreting it right? But it left me feeling rather uncomfortable :/
