I don’t know that I’ve ever seen that kind of drastic heat index, but our sunburned, sweaty selves can testify to the fact that it is ridiculously hot out there today. Since we arrived in this city about two weeks ago, A. and I have been combing the city on foot for up to six hours a day, exploring various communities, talking to people, and finding out where we should start looking for a room. Aside from helping us to pinpoint some very promising locations, all of this wandering has yielded a lot of insights about our new home. First of all, there is less pollution than where we were previously, which means that getting a sunburn is once again possible. Another thing is that there are way more cows and other animals here than anywhere else we’ve seen. Cows and dogs wander the streets, the university campuses, the slums– everywhere, as a matter of fact, except the zoo. A. and I have both stepped in juicy cow pies when we’ve let our attention drift from scanning the pavement for too long during our walks, but it turns out that the zoo is the one place in this city where you don’t have to worry about stepping in animal droppings of any kind!
The best discovery has been that people here are incredibly friendly. Earlier this week, the two of us visited one neighborhood where an old monument built during the reign of Mughal empire centuries ago towers over the densely packed, tiny homes hastily constructed in the last quarter of a century or so. We followed the narrow, winding alleyways through the settlement, asking directions to the monument along the way. To our surprise, the last person we asked happened to live inside the monument. He invited us in to have tea with his family, who has resourcefully converted the old tomb into affordable housing. They took us up a dark, treacherous stairwell to stand on the top of their building and enjoy the view– we could see miles across the patchwork of slums, apartment buildings, open fields, and other ancient monuments in the distance.
Afterward, we sat on plastic chairs drinking tea and watching a baby goat dart in and out from under the bed, bucking its head into people’s legs as they hung over the edge. We were amused to see a cheap ceiling fan installed overhead, and a chicken running around an ancient sepulcher in the middle of the family’s living room. ”I think that’s one of you in there,” said one of the daughters, pointing toward the grave. “A British guy.” I guess when you’re living in the forgotten parts of the empire, impoverished and marginalized in society, one set of powerful, oppressive rulers seems pretty much like another. The Mughals and the British had both come and gone long before this girl was born, and now all that was left of this once-important man, whoever he had been, was a crumbling monument to his own worldly ambition. At least this one is serving the unintended purpose of providing shelter for a family who might otherwise be without a home.