Old Delhi was shocking. I am not sure how I mean that. It was so profound to see so many things just happening. A man sat across from another on the street, frothing shaving cream on his face and preparing to claim a few rupees wage. A woman rubbed her child's back with one hand, the other outstretched for any spare rupee her partner in shaving may have failed to collect. So manic, but everyone is so calm.
The latter is another thing that struck me. The roads were terrifyingly packed, but the people ambled on anyway. Ignoring insistence from rickshaw drivers that they move out of the way, so sure of their own safety. How does such a calm people create the chaos they live in?
Every building I pass in Old Delhi seems half-built, as if they managed to construct a semi-livable condition and decided to reward themselves by settling there permanently and daring Mother Nature to blow down their house with a wild monsoon.
There is an overwhelming amount of wires, as if they represent each person packs in this crowded city, or maybe they wait for the day they will connect them to a privileged life they aspire to have.
The latter is another thing that struck me. The roads were terrifyingly packed, but the people ambled on anyway. Ignoring insistence from rickshaw drivers that they move out of the way, so sure of their own safety. How does such a calm people create the chaos they live in?
Every building I pass in Old Delhi seems half-built, as if they managed to construct a semi-livable condition and decided to reward themselves by settling there permanently and daring Mother Nature to blow down their house with a wild monsoon.
There is an overwhelming amount of wires, as if they represent each person packs in this crowded city, or maybe they wait for the day they will connect them to a privileged life they aspire to have.
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