I arrive in Delhi, dizzy with jet lag… ecstatic to be greeted by my sister, Angela.
The scent is the first thing I notice: curries cooking , spices, dung-burning fires, jasmine blooming and exhaust fumes. It’s a heady blend, especially since I’m used to freezing Connecticut air. On the roads tiny black and yellow three- wheelers weave in and out between smoke-belching buses, white 1950s-looking Ambassador cars, many driven by turbaned Sikhs, boys on black antique bicycles overloaded with goods to deliver, motorbikes here and there; everyone jockeys for their place in the stream of traffic….
India Notebook
India Notebook
By Iris Van Rynbach
I arrive in Delhi, dizzy with jet lag… ecstatic to be greeted by my sister, Angela.
The scent is the first thing I notice: curries cooking , spices, dung-burning fires, jasmine blooming and exhaust fumes. It’s a heady blend, especially since I’m used to freezing Connecticut air. On the roads tiny black and yellow three- wheelers weave in and out between smoke-belching buses, white 1950s-looking Ambassador cars, many driven by turbaned Sikhs, boys on black antique bicycles overloaded with goods to deliver, motorbikes here and there; everyone jockeys for their place in the stream of traffic….