16
2008
All summer I've been waiting, waiting, like the rest of Delhi, for October, for October is the month that finally sounds the death knoll for the merciless Indian summer, and ushers in great weather. The next five months in this city are going to be glorious, and festive.
First there is Eid al-Fitr, which is celebrated by Muslims across India - approximately sixteen percent of the Indian population is Muslim. Then comes Dussehra - a major Hindu festival that precedes Diwali - another big Hindu festival, commonly referred to as the festival of lights. It's a day when people light up their homes with candles and 'diyas' (indigenous oil lamps made of clay); when excited children burst firecrackers; when women wear traditional bright sarees and gold jewelry and men wear the ethnic pajama kurtas; when families pray together; and when people visit extended family and friends bearing traditional Indian sweets.
It's an auspicious time of the year, a time, according to the stars, for beginning new ventures, so, not surprisingly, it's also a time of weddings. Priests are called upon months in advance to learn of the best dates for the weddings, as most Indians want the dates to be very auspicious. Last year there were some 32,000 weddings in Delhi alone on the 13th of December, since it was one of the few favorable days to tie the knot in that season- definitely not a day to have been out on the streets.
There are about fifteen days between Dussehra and Diwali every year, give or take a few days- the dates change each year according to the Hindu calendar, but it's a time of the year when most Indians take their annual vacation, using the time to unwind, visit family, and even do charity, a bit like Christmas time in the west.
Affluent Delhites (as those who live in Delhi are called), however, look forward to something else at this time of the year: playing cards. For the fifteen days between the two festivals, the custom is to meet at different friends' places almost everyday, usually after dinner, for playing Flash - a card game a lot like poker. It's not as decadent as it sounds, not if it's done the way it used to be done, the way I remember it from my childhood days. As children we were allowed to go with our parents, as long as it was not school night, and while they played for only slightly higher stakes than us, us kiddies used to play with, what you could call, the equivalent of pennies. The person who won in the end had to treat the rest to ice cream.
That was the way it used to be, but unfortunately, it's not the way it is anymore. Like everything else, this too has changed, getting affected by the amount of money the upper classes earn today. Now when we go out, as adults to friends' places, the trend, I find to my horror, is to play very high stakes, a couple of thousand dollars being bet on each hand. Winning or losing a few thousand dollars in one night, it seems, is no big deal for the rich and even the well off in this city.
After Diwali, the weddings begin, which are long and lavish affairs. Drive down any Delhi road at night in this time and you're sure to pass many a 'baraat' - a marriage procession - that consists of the groom, sitting on a white horse surrounded by joyous family and friends dancing to a band playing the latest music; uniformed men carrying lights; and an assortment of curious onlookers. The baraat makes its way to the venue of the wedding, and once the ceremony is over, the bride leaves with the groom in a car adorned with flowers.
Having had my fill of weddings over the years, for me the best thing about Delhi at this time of the year, are lazy pick nicks at the Lodi Gardens - spectacular gardens laid around the decrepit but stunning tombs of the ancient Afghan rulers of Delhi - located in a leafy, green and extremely affluent part of the city that border some of the United Nation office buildings. The park draws people from all over and of all sorts - coy lovebirds cuddling behind trees and tombs; joggers, many of whom are foreign expatriates, religiously doing their rounds; children playing Frisbee; families stretched out on durries, basking in the sun; the odd couple playing scrabble; an old man doing yoga; and a school teacher leading a group of children around the park.
Pack a ball for the kids and a book for yourself and head for the Lodi Gardens, and suddenly Delhi feels like another city - when you don't have to think about the weather before stepping out, when a day out does not have to mean a trip to the mall or to the theatre, when the sun is not some ruthless fireball blazing down your back, but a soothing glow you begin to love.
If only this could last longer, if only the whole year, or at least more of it, could be as good, if only. Though this is only the beginning of great days in the city, I am already dreading the end, for Delhi's crisp and sunny winter spoils you, and leaves you rather ill prepared for it's cruel and endless summer, which I go through reciting the exact reverse of Shelly's words: "If summer comes, can winter be far behind?"
So my advice to anyone planning a trip to India - do it before March.