From Chennai to Chandni Chowk

by ASIFA EKKEEM (India)

Making a local connection India

I was one among a group of at least 50 teenagers eager to go on the school trip that we had been waiting for all year. I was so excited about the journey as it was a blend of experiences I had had for the first time. The day had come, we parted with our parents and boarded the train with so many expectations. It was a journey that lasted for 14 days but the two experiences that are evocative of this journey which accentuated my childhood was at the Chandni chowk, Delhi and the Taj Mahal, Agra. Merely the journey alone lasted for three whole days. It was filled with laughter and high pitched voices singing our favourite songs terribly. Looking back it is one of the most beautiful memories that I cherish to this day. Nights would come and we’d all share stories from home explaining concerns of our parents. 3 days had passed with a hint of diarrhoea, complete dehydration and a tad of home sickness, we had finally arrived at Delhi, the streets seemed unfamiliar and we were struck with a sense of consternation arising over being left out of the group and the bogeyman stories, we had heard back home according to which children were being abducted all the time in the north of India. Looking back, the stories were just a feeble attempt made by the adults to keep us alert. The first location we visited was Chandni chowk which we were told was a famous market place of sorts. We got out of the rented bus holding hands with a friend as instructed and took a stroll down the market place. The place was bustling with life. It was filled with small shops and the things that they each sold varied greatly. It seemed as though, one could find anything here. As far as the eye could see, there were books, clothes, accessories, saplings, clay pots and what not. The place was so loud with chatter. Awe struck, it took me a moment to soak it in. I felt a tug on my shirt, it was my teacher and she insisted that we buy something from the shops and proclaimed herself as an expert bargainer. I wanted to buy a purse. She winked and went up to the shop that I pointed to. I was observing her bargaining with the sellers and the negotiations seemed absurd. The shop keeper would ask 500 rupees for the purse and she would unabashedly say that she only had 100 rupees and this would go on until they both came to a compromise with her occasionally threatening the shopkeeper saying that we'll leave the shop without buying anything which I learned was the norm of the place. When she finally got me the purse, she was so proud. It was a sight to see. The next day, we took a 3 hour train trip to Agra to visit the place that we had all been looking forward to see. It was the Taj Mahal which majestically stood before us. It was the most ethereal scene I had ever seen in my life. Located on the west back of the Yamuna river, the ivory white marble mausoleum with beautiful Arabic calligraphy astounded me. It was embellished by the Charbagh which surrounded it. It was more than just a building, it was an embodiment of love. An enticing love story that we had all heard of. The Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan built it as a symbol of his undying love for his wife, Mumtaz Mahal. To see it, which was a remainder of something truly amazing that I had only read about was fascinating to me, kind of like if the Hogwarts school was a museum that you could visit and see the place where they played Quidditch. Consequently, even with all those loud tourists and so many things happening around me, there was a moment of silence. A moment when everything else seemed so distant and its beauty was only the thing that resonated and it had to be soaked in, because after all it isn’t something that I could experience every day.