The end of my first week had me hangin’ out with Neha, a smart progressive young Indian woman with her own car—& she wielded that sucka like any other Indian—with speed, aggression, impatience & intent! GET THE HELL OUTTA MY WAAAAAYYYYYYY! Anywho, ours was a historical outing with her taking me to one of the must see monuments in Delhi—The Qutab Minar [sounds like the coo-taub men-ar]. A minar is a tall circular structure that comes to a point. There is a fee to enter—10 rupees for Indians & 250RS [about $6US] for foreigners. Man, that pissed me off! I could’ve had 2 meals for that amount of money!! Now granted, it was pennies by American standards but I was ticked off not so much because I had to pay more to see the same damn thing of made rocks that the Indians do but so much more???!!! [I admit that statement is on the irreverent & rude side but when ya pissed, ya PISSED!] Would it actually be worth 2 Indian meals to walk around & get bitten on my ankles because I forgot my mosquito survival kit back at the fire-trap crib? That would remain to be seen
Oh, & they make it so ‘convenient’ for us foreigners to pay the exorbitant markup by providing us with our own line that prominently says ‘FOREIGNERS’ making said person feel oh so special. I have never been anywhere in my life where I’ve had to pay more because my passport said another country on the front. Man, I tell ya, we human beings will do or say anything to justify discrimination if the imposing party wants to protect ‘their’ anything. & of course it’s justified to the imposers, I mean Neha didn’t exactly understand why I was so upset but as a person of color who is discriminated against in her own country [whether it’s acknowledged or not] because of her skin color then sets off to another place & has to pay more because now she’s a foreigner, I mean, when the hell does it friggin’ stop, being singled out because, BECAUSE?! It was explained to me that it’s felt that foreigners should pay more than natives to see the monuments because it helps in the preservation of said object or place for us to see in the first place. And that the prices are adjusted to meet our higher currency value. Not quite sure I get that line of thinking but whether I do or not, I begrudgingly plunked down my worn rupees & continued grumbling while I took in the grounds as the mosquitoes happily skipped my guide & took liberties with my blood.
All griping aside, it was an interesting structure as well as possessing intriguing history. Completed in the 1300’s, the original architect died when the first story was built & the rest was completed by his protégé, who began building another minar across from the original, with plans to top it in height [ye old familiar one-up-man-ship]. He too died at about the first story & the unfinished minar sits silently through the ages, looking at its finished sister with the dramatic arches & archways.
I found the stone arrangements & colors quite fascinating—reds, blue-ish grays, & whites augmented with panels written in the ancient language of India—Odom. Ultimately, did I forget about being pissed off about the entrance fee? Yup. I’m really working on being more conscious on accepting things I cannot change & to not dwell as much. But keep in mind, I said I am WORKING on it LOL! I would have to remind myself of that countless more times on this trip!
There is always an exception to any rule & the people I met here were classic reminders of that adage. I cracked up when I heard one dancer say they HATED spicy foods because I didn’t find ANYTHING I ate not laced with boo-coo spices, hell, there’s even spices in their tea [which is oh so delicioso]. I mean, Indian cuisine is known for their spices! So when Neha told me she absolutely hated cows, I thought I would bust a gourd since they pepper the streets, even the highways! They are sacred to the Hindu & part of the fabric of life there.
The cows don’t seem to faze the Indians in the least, as a matter of fact, some folks were stunned I was so shocked to see them. ‘Don’t you have cows on the street?’ they would ask. ‘Ah, no, & nor does any other place I’ve ever been’ I’d reply, shocked they would ask me that. But all things being relative, it was a normal occurrence to have a big ol’ wad a cattle tying up traffic because they wanted to sit in the middle of the street. While I sat dumbfounded by the sight of a calf & its mother taking a casual stroll down a crazy busy highway during rush hour, my companions would just go around them as if they were another car.
Anywho, Neha intermittently would growl how much she hated cows which tickled me immensely & eventually, she shared why & I was almost under the car laughing because of the cartoon images I saw in my mind’s eye. As a teen she was hangin’ out with some friends when she bumped into a calf. Literally. Mama cow came bearin’ down on her butt & she went scampering down the mad crowded streets, friends laughing & no one coming to her aide. Hmm, come to think of it, how do you stop a rampaging cow? Can you imagine a young girl running the crazy congested streets dodging cars, motorcycles, bikes, auto rickshaws, rickshaws, women carrying bricks on their head, & pedestrians with a big ass bellowing annoyed cow chasing her?! Smacks of Looney Tunes fo’ sho!
