My neighbours kids just called me aunty.
Friday, 15 April 2011
Monday, 11 April 2011
Finding my space
Old Delhi Railway Station. We meet again.I used to frequent this station a few years ago- it was the mid-way point between my home in the south and my work in the hills. I was back again, this time on my way to Lucknow, to attend a meeting hosted by a partner organisation. As I got out of the metro at Kashmere Gate, the Delhi I remember from all my previous trips came rushing back. Note to self: must not succumb to South Delhi brat tendencies.
As I walked into the station, I was just in time to hear the announcement that my train would be delayed by four hours. Great. Incidentally, my last planned trip to Lucknow by flight (to visit the same organisation, mind you) ended in me flying all the way there and back without touching down, because of fog. I was determined to get to Lucknow this time. However, to kill four hours at Old Delhi was something I wasn't really prepared for.
I saw a sign for waiting rooms and ascended a seedy flight of stairs. Half way up, I encountered two homeless men sleeping on the landing. I carried on. As I reached the waiting room area, I walked into the ladies waiting room. It was empty apart from three men giggling in a corner. I moved on the 'Upper Class Waiting Room', guarded by an ageing railway employee. She swiftly informed me that because I was a single lady, I had to wait in the Ladies Room. After a general argument, I was allowed to sit in the 'upper class' room, along with a few people dotted here and there, mostly sleeping.
Two hours down and a dog trotted in, looked around disinterestedly and trotted out. Silence. Three hours and a cat emerged from the restrooms. A monkey scuffled down the hallway. At 1am, the announcements resumed.
I left the waiting room at 1.30am, hearing the announcement for my train. As the train pulled in, the crowd surged. A child was crying, looking lost, but noone noticed her. I was so tired, I just wanted to sit on the platform and cry with her, but I too carried on. I eventually decided not take the train, because I was going to miss the meeting I was going for, and took the call to head back home. At 3am, I got home, tired and a little bit disturbed.
In my five hour tryst with the Old Delhi railway station, I realised just how in-your-face this city can be, all the time. I'm not really sure where else in India (or the world for that matter) you can see a BMW pull up in the station and spew out a family on the way to theirholiday home in the hills, side by side with hundred of people sleeping on the platform for over a day, waiting to take them on another gruellingly long journey.
I'm increasingly struggling with my own place in all of this. This is occupying a large portion of my non-work related thoughts these days. How do I reconcile all of this ridiculously blatant inequality? I work in an organisation that attempts to 'bridge the gap'. However, there are times when I question the ways in which the gap is being bridged, and the intentions with which this is being done. Today I went for a music concert, where a youth organisation had worked with and trained a group of street kids from a Boys Home in Delhi to perform a half-hour set at the show. They were brilliant- awesome and inspiring, and I was filled with emotion- it was so very powerful. However, at the same time, as I watched the audience and the six photographers poking cameras in the kids' faces, I thought to myself for a split-second- what are we doing here? Why do I feel so uncomfortable about this?
I don't have the answer to all these questions, but what makes me feel slightly better is atleast I'm asking them. Delhi seems so black and white to me, and increasingly so every day. It's hard to find my space here for now, especially since my preferred shade is grey.
As I walked into the station, I was just in time to hear the announcement that my train would be delayed by four hours. Great. Incidentally, my last planned trip to Lucknow by flight (to visit the same organisation, mind you) ended in me flying all the way there and back without touching down, because of fog. I was determined to get to Lucknow this time. However, to kill four hours at Old Delhi was something I wasn't really prepared for.
I saw a sign for waiting rooms and ascended a seedy flight of stairs. Half way up, I encountered two homeless men sleeping on the landing. I carried on. As I reached the waiting room area, I walked into the ladies waiting room. It was empty apart from three men giggling in a corner. I moved on the 'Upper Class Waiting Room', guarded by an ageing railway employee. She swiftly informed me that because I was a single lady, I had to wait in the Ladies Room. After a general argument, I was allowed to sit in the 'upper class' room, along with a few people dotted here and there, mostly sleeping.
Two hours down and a dog trotted in, looked around disinterestedly and trotted out. Silence. Three hours and a cat emerged from the restrooms. A monkey scuffled down the hallway. At 1am, the announcements resumed.
I left the waiting room at 1.30am, hearing the announcement for my train. As the train pulled in, the crowd surged. A child was crying, looking lost, but noone noticed her. I was so tired, I just wanted to sit on the platform and cry with her, but I too carried on. I eventually decided not take the train, because I was going to miss the meeting I was going for, and took the call to head back home. At 3am, I got home, tired and a little bit disturbed.
In my five hour tryst with the Old Delhi railway station, I realised just how in-your-face this city can be, all the time. I'm not really sure where else in India (or the world for that matter) you can see a BMW pull up in the station and spew out a family on the way to theirholiday home in the hills, side by side with hundred of people sleeping on the platform for over a day, waiting to take them on another gruellingly long journey.
I'm increasingly struggling with my own place in all of this. This is occupying a large portion of my non-work related thoughts these days. How do I reconcile all of this ridiculously blatant inequality? I work in an organisation that attempts to 'bridge the gap'. However, there are times when I question the ways in which the gap is being bridged, and the intentions with which this is being done. Today I went for a music concert, where a youth organisation had worked with and trained a group of street kids from a Boys Home in Delhi to perform a half-hour set at the show. They were brilliant- awesome and inspiring, and I was filled with emotion- it was so very powerful. However, at the same time, as I watched the audience and the six photographers poking cameras in the kids' faces, I thought to myself for a split-second- what are we doing here? Why do I feel so uncomfortable about this?
I don't have the answer to all these questions, but what makes me feel slightly better is atleast I'm asking them. Delhi seems so black and white to me, and increasingly so every day. It's hard to find my space here for now, especially since my preferred shade is grey.
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