THE JOURNEY OF WILDLIFE WHISPERER (PART 1 – The Beginning)

A DIFFERENT KIND OF A MORNING WALK

Not long ago I was a totally night person – most creative, lively and awake after 8 pm. I could work the entire night but post 8 am I had to sleep. So although I have always loved sunrises, I never had to wake up for one. I would usually stay awake for the sun to rise, and then promptly go to sleep.

Life changed one fine November morning in 2008. In the middle of a workshop that I was facilitating, the venue of which was next to a beautiful beach, for two days in a row I woke up around dawn and went for a walk on the beach. Since then I have been addicted to morning walks and feel a special tinge is seeing the world wake up. Mornings are indeed special!

The walk that I went for on Sunday though was a different one. Having moved to Delhi a month ago, I have been constantly comparing my current karam bhoomi Delhi to my beloved janam bhoomi Mumbai and in 9 cases out of 10 Mumbai wins all comparison’s hands down. On Sunday I discovered that it is not difficult to fall in love with Delhi too ;)

I am currently reading the book ‘The Last Moghul’ by William Dalrymple and it’s a fascinating account of Shahjahanabad (Old Delhi). Since I was staying over at friends in Old Delhi on Saturday, I decided to explore the place and take some pictures the next morning. Promptly at sunrise I was out of the house with my beloved camera in hand.

Anyone who knows Old Delhi knows that it is difficult to navigate, the small lanes, hordes peoples, shops, etc. - except ofcourse if you have lived there for a 100 or so years yourself. So I did the smart thing. I hired a cycle rickshaw, requested the driver to take me to Chandni Chowk, Red Fort and Jama Masjid and get me back to the lane that we were leaving from. I also told him I needed to take pictures so we might need to stoop en route. Once he dropped me back I valiantly retraced my steps J

And the place was so overwhelming that I barely took any snaps L This happens to me quite regularly though. If a situation, an environment is too special, or when I am enjoying myself too much, I either forget to take pictures, or simply feel overwhelmed. That’s just what happened on Sunday. And thoughts kept jostling in my head all the time. (And I wished I had gotten into the habit of carrying a dictaphone as Mr. Puri had long ago suggested!)

At one level while I was walking I could feel the enormous history around me, in the ruined structures. At the same time the people occupying every available space were a reminder that this place was living history too. In some places and countries that I have visited a lot of emphasis is placed on preserving historical structures, and such preservation is done in an exemplary manner. The narrow lanes of Delhi are a stark reminder of the apathy and callousness of both the government and the people.

However at the same time I wondered whether it is not so wrong to reclaim history. As a conscious activist I have always had an issue with history. I believe that history that we read is mostly of the victors, and generally of men. Women and the working classes are frequently silent or missing from great histories of the world. So it was enchanting to see that the very places that would have been out of the reach of commoners a century or two ago was swarming with them now. Did it mean the working classes had finally taken over? Perhaps not, because the poverty was too stark to ignore. But there was a fascinating variance in poverty too.

In a particular lane outside one of the Jama Masjid gates there were two footpaths across the road. On one side people and families were sleeping on the ground and on the other were mostly men who had hired charpais (beds made of particular ropes) for the night. As I was walking past, a vehicle had come to collect the beds so that the road could be cleared for setting up of shops during the day. The expression on the faces of people on both sides of the road was simply fascinating. I so wanted to capture those emotions in my camera, but I got a strange feeling that I would be violating some private space.

At that hour three types of people were awake and around –the daily workers who were keen to get on with the day; the religious sorts who had come to pay their respects in various temples and mosques and were distributing alms and the cricket enthusiasts all on their way to play somewhere on a Sunday. The diversity, the colour, the hope, the aggression, the past and the present, the rising sun and slight breeze were all jostling with each other – and at that chaotic moment I fell in love with Delhi J

There are a still a lot of things that I do not like about the city, and I pine for Bombay from time to time – but Delhi grows on you. It bewitches, enchants, and forces you to take notice and to fall in love with her. I am just a feeble soul. How could I resist the giant which has survived for centuries and enchanted generations!!!