A little magic

It's been too long since my last update. There is a reason.

Almost as soon as I flew back to Delhi from Kolkata -- happy as a cow, and frankly so stuffed I felt like one, too -- I had to dash back to the airport to pick up my boyfriend, Z. He's taking a much-deserved vacation from his job(s) in Kabul, Afghanistan, and had actually been in India for a while already, relaxing in the South with a friend. We dropped his things off at our quirky, surprisingly luxurious hotel in Old Delhi, and went to stretch our legs on a long walk in the Lodi Gardens.

Our stroll reminded me of the first time I had ever been to the Lodi Gardens. It was the first time (well, the second, if you count the time when I was a baby) I traveled to India, and I was eleven years old. It was exactly this time of year, and the air was smoky and polluted and mysterious. That’s the particular Winter Delhi smell that settles upon the city in the evenings. My parents led me around the Lodi Gardens on that first night in Delhi; I still remember how its dark, murky, hulking, and eerily (yet undeniably) beautiful tombs mirrored the novel mix of fear, awe, and excitement churning inside me.

We’ve had some fantastic meals in the past few days, and that first afternoon and evening in Delhi brought two of them. One was a dahi wada (perhaps my favorite food in the whole world) and a masala dosa at Sagar, an understandably popular vegetarian joint in Defence Colony. The second consisted of a midnight sarson-ka-saag and makki-ki-roti at the Have More on Pandara Road – one of the only markets that’s still open for dining into the early hours of the morning, because apparently, entire Punjabi families (kids included) enjoy dinner at about 12:15AM. We arrived just in time for the rush.

Over the following few days, Z performed magic, juggled, and balanced large objects on his nose for groups of delighted kids at Salaam Baalak. In between shows, we explored Chandni Chowk, ate massive amounts of chaat at Haldiram’s, and climbed the tallest minaret of the Jama Masjid.

One night we visited the ornate – yet tranquil – Gurudwara Bangla Sahib, where Sikhs fell over themselves to help us find head coverings and give prashaad. It was the first gurudwara either of us had ever been inside, and it was nothing short of exquisite. The outside, with its immaculate reflecting pool, was perhaps even more so. The whole place shone with the well-wishes of the millions of Sikhs who pray there: just incredible.

And now we’re in Mumbai with my parents, just for a day before heading to Goa. Must be off! – Now that Mummy is here, there are about nine restaurants and food stalls on the agenda for today, and we’re already a meal behind.