Today was our last day in Delhi, so I spent a lot of time reflecting on the time we’ve had here. We’ve done so much, but somehow it still feels like we just got here. Our residency, The Ahuja, has started to feel homey. It’s been fun getting to know Delhi. The shock that I felt during our first few days has evolved into a sort of confidence. I was terrified to bargain, and to cross the street, but now I do those things daily without a much of a thought. I’ve begun to think in rupees instead of dollars. I can speak just enough Hindi to clear up some miscommunications. I can say I have friends here now, too. Naturally there are bad things to go with the good days. Some days have been harder than others. It’s been interesting to think and talk about our privilege, and to wrestle with that in a new way. Sometimes it’s emotionally challenging to come home to luxury at the end of a day walking the streets. I’ve never been off the continent of North America before this trip, and only had very limited experience in Canada and Mexcio. People have told me I’m crazy for picking India for my first place to go abroad, and maybe I am, but I wanted to feel that shock. Delhi is fascinating, because its beautiful sides and dark sides not only live side by side, but are inextricably intertwined. The sights and smells and endless possibilities of experiences can be overwhelming at times, but will always hold a special place in my heart.
One of my favorite experiences happened one night walking home from Khan Market with Evan and Spencer. We came across what looked like a festival going on at the corner of an intersection. There were lights and music, and people gathered around. We didn’t know what it was that was going on so we decided to check it out. We walked up to where people were gathered around the stage, some sitting and some standing. We got some curious stares, but that’s not unusual. Almost right away people began offering us food and water and a place to sit. A little girl in front of us was fluent in English and began explaining things as they happened, because everything that was going on was in Hindi. We sat on the ground with all of these people and listened to classical Indian music for over an hour. There was a shrine on the opposite side of the stage from us, and the little girl told us that some of the people that were there celebrating were fourth generation of the family of the person buried there. The musicians were dressed in fancy clothing with jewels and other shiny things, and men would periodically shower the musicians with Rs.1000 bills. There were thousands upon thousands of Rupees on that stage by the end of the night. When we decided it was time for us to head home, we stood up and moved toward the back where we were once again offered food. It felt rude to turn it down, so we said “just a little bit,” and they agreed. I guess our definitions of little are different because they gave us eight different small trays full of food. We were hesitant about eating it, and decided we had to take it to go. I ate some of what looked like a fried bread, and I was fine. The rest we gave away to others on the walk home. After doing a little bit of researching I found out that the celebration we had been at was called Qawwali, which is done in the Sufi Muslim tradition. The word Qawwali stems from a word that means “the utterance of the prophet.”The throwing of the money is an offering in return for a blessing. I felt hesitant to go into the situation initially, and felt more aware than usual of my foreign-ness and the color of my skin. I ended up feeling very welcomed by the people who were there celebrating. Their kindness was amazing to me. They truly seemed excited that we were there.
Something interesting that Sunil brought up today in our last discussion was the idea that the kindness that we experienced may be a reflection of our privilege. He asked us to think of times when someone had shown us kindness and then essentially turn around and be unkind to someone else. Upon reflection those times undoubtedly existed. I felt tripped up considering the possibility that the kindness I had felt in Delhi was not genuine. But I can’t let that devalue the experiences that I had with the people I met, or let it change my opinions of them too much. Ultimately, I’m no different. Though I try to be kind as I go through life, I’m only human and in certain situations I may be kind to one person, dismissive of another, or downright rude depending on what is going on. Maybe I can’t make the generalization of saying that the people of Delhi are kind (which isn’t an accurate generalization to make anywhere), but they have undeniably been kind to me, and I appreciated everyone I met here.
Dhanyavad Delhi, I hope to see you again soon.
