Throwback Thursday: The Seed
Today, I bring you a post from one of my journals. This week, it is the first post I wrote in India. Enjoy!
I hardly know the day anymore. Tuesday was incredible. Ricky, our guide, took us via metro and cycle rickshaw to Jama Masjhid and Gurudwara. The mosque, Jama Masjhid was awe-inspiringly beautiful, almost haunting in the early morning. We took pictures with people in our hijabs and admired the hawks in the intensely blue sky. The Sikh temple was a different kind of awesome. They welcomed us into the procession around the Guru Granth Sahib, their holy book. We visited the attached kitchen as well. A small man stirring a vat of daal saw us come in, gestured to the giant spoon, and walked off to do something else that needed doing. There were men and women rolling dough, flipping, grilling, toasting the chapatis. I wanted to help them; if I came back alone I likely would’ve; when I go back I likely will.
All Sikh temples have a kitchen like this. Anyone can come to help and anyone can come to eat, for free. After our orientation tour, Georgia and I had a grand afternoon adventure. Our afternoon train to Bikaner was delayed because Holi was about to begin. So with a whole extra half-day in Delhi, we took the metro back to the Red Fort picking up a young Indian guy on the way, Shub. We’re not entirely sure why he attached himself to us, or how for that matter, but he was talkative (in a very high-pitched voice) and amusing until late in the day when he began asking personal questions about our relationship status…awkward…The Red Fort was beautiful though, a huge park surrounded by massive red walls, dotted with buildings in red sandstone or mirrored painted marble. Sadly, the pools were not filled in.
I imagine the shimmering reflections would’ve made the place heavenly. The tourists, at the fort and in general so far, seem to be mostly Indian, which is fascinating. I suppose going to Delhi is like going to Washington D.C. for Americans, but still, I think the Asian tourists outnumber us at our own monuments. The lawns of the Red Fort were filled with Indians walking about, or simply sitting in the grass enjoying the day and the park. This was the first place that I was reminded of the seed for my love of India. There is a young adult series, The Princess Diaries, designed to give young women glimpses of other times and other cultures through a character they can identify with. Pretty straightforward, what little girl doesn’t want to be a princess? Needless to say, I read all of these books. To date, the only one I could tell you anything about is Jahanara’s. Jahanara was the eldest daughter of Shah Jahan, the Indian Emperor who built the Taj Mahal, and Mumtaz Mahal, the woman buried there. Walking around the grounds and gardens of this fort, I couldn’t stop thinking of how much I wanted to be her, wanted her story to be mine, despite the tragedy and complication that surrounded her. What amazing things a story can do, to bring us to love a place before we arrive, or to guide us to the places we will love.
*Update: many little girls might not want to be princesses, please excuse the gender-stereotyping of 23-year-old Maggie.
