Tradition and Modernity Collide in Delhi, Part 2.

Our last day in Delhi, Matt and I set out to wander around the more recently developed New Delhi section of the city that houses India’s stately federal government buildings and well-maintained landscaped green spaces. The air pollution was particularly horrific that day, with the wide streets and parks shrouded in a thick fog making it impossible to see even basic outlines of the government buildings in the distance. The grey skies and haze made India’s version of the US National Mall feel downright spooky and dystopian, and I was startled by the immediate impact of air pollution given that I had not experienced the issue at this level before. I couldn’t help but muse at the deep irony that India’s own political hub was plagued by the effects of an environmental catastrophe that requires more intentional government regulation to help the country escape it.  

The sky was grey but the landscaping was beautiful around the government buildings in New Delhi.

Despite the air pollution, people in Delhi move forward with their lives and routines. One routine that we stumbled upon that day was the weekly “Changing the Guard” ceremony in front of the Rashtrapati Bhavan, the President’s residence. While we were navigating through intense security and dead-end roads in the government building area to find gardens we had read about, guards ushered us through a gate to sit and watch the 30-minute ceremony. We didn’t have the requisite tickets and hadn’t accounted for this event in our schedule, but figured hey – why not see something new! The guards promised us it would be a “beautiful” experience. All of the sudden a full army band began to play, over 20 soldiers on horseback rode towards us from the President’s residence, and about 70 soldiers in uniform marched in unison. The ceremony was interesting and entertaining, with announcers speaking in Hindi and English over the loudspeaker to inform the crowd what formal steps were taking place in the ceremony. Also interesting were the apparent range of races of the soldiers themselves. Only a few were darker skinned like the Indian people we have been used to seeing, but the majority were much lighters skinned and many were even East Asian looking—perhaps they were from Eastern India.

A video segment of the Changing of Guards ceremony.

Next we attempted to visit the Mughal Gardens, a heavily-secured, landscaped area near the President’s House that is only open to the public two months per year. We happened to be in Delhi during the short window in which the gardens were open, so of course we were eager to see them! Upon our arrival we realized that thousands of other people—including massive groups of schoolchildren—were also eager. The security apparatus was extremely disorganized and flat-out overrun by the excess of visitors. There were indistinguishably separate queues for people with tickets, people without tickets, bag check, bag scan, body scan, and more. Of course lines were all separate for men and women, so Matt and I were forced to split up and shuffle along. There were just too many people. Since I had to check my purse, I had stuffed in my pocket a pack of tissues to use as toilet paper (many public restrooms in India don’t have toilet paper) but a security guard made me throw the tissues away aside from one piece when I entered the garden area. I was enraged given that there had been no signage related to bringing in toilet paper (no signage with any information at all, for that matter) just people speaking Hindi over the loudspeaker and guards pushing people along through narrow queues. People were cutting the line left and right. I tried to use the restroom and women were packing into the small building, pushing each other to get to the front to access the stalls. A feisty old woman started yelling at me in Hindi because I wouldn’t let her cut me in line; maybe that is a respect-related custom in India of which I am less familiar, but at this point I had had it. Needless to say, Matt could sense my frustration and anger so we left immediately without seeing any of the gardens. Good riddance, in my opinion! Flowers aren’t worth all that stress.

Slightly shaken, we jumped in an autorickshaw and headed to the Indira Gandhi Memorial and Museum. Indira Gandhi (not related to Mahatma Gandhi) served as India’s Prime Minister from 1966 to 1977 and again from 1980 to 1984. A controversial and powerful woman, Indira is known for her efforts to maintain stability and push for progress during her time as a public servant. She was assassinated outside of her home on October 31^st, 1984 by her own Sikh bodyguards, leading to outrage and mourning across the country and the world. Her son stepped up to fill her role as Prime Minister from 1984 to 1989 and was also assassinated many years later. They are known as the Kennedys of India, and the Gandhi’s home has been converted into a museum and memorial that is free to the public. There are many interesting artifacts including Indira’s personal correspondence and the sari she was wearing the day she was murdered. Much of the home and its furniture has been retained as it was when she lived there, so we could walk through Indira’s private library, bedroom, and living room. There is a sheet of crystal covering the pathway where Indira took her final steps, and an engraved glass plaque marking the exact spot she was murdered. It was a very powerful experience and meaningful way to wrap up our time in Delhi.

The Indira Gandhi memorial and museum housed large photos capturing moments of her life.

Before dawn next morning, we hopped on a train to Jaipur, the capital of Rajasthan located four house southwest of Delhi. I’ll detail our day in Jaipur in a later post. Bye for now!