Karol Bagh

While waiting for my new driver, I wandered outside in front of the hotel to check out the Karol Bagh neighborhood.

If it wasn’t obvious enough already, the sign in front of the park across the street reminded me, “Hey! I’m in India!”

The street was very narrow and very busy. Tuk-tuks and bicycle rickshaws shared the street with cars, pedestrians and people pulling handcarts.

Trash collection and removal was done with handcarts.

On the other side of the hotel, a new building was going up.

These women were working on the construction site, carrying loads of sand on their heads from outside to the interior. They didn’t speak English but were very friendly. The one on the left didn’t smile because she had bad teeth.

I went back to the hotel so my new driver could find me. A Sikh man in a red turban was standing near the front door. One of the first lessons India taught me was, don’t believe everyone who tells you they speak English.

“Do you speak English?” I said to the man.
“Yah.”
“Do you know what is the little structure in the middle of the park across the street?”
“Yah.” He said, but there was no explanation coming. He obviously didn’t speak English. Okay. But he had a nice smile.
I held up my camera. “Picture?”
“Yah.” He smiled.
I took a couple of shots and showed them to him. He was quite pleased.

“You look very handsome,” I said.
“Very handsome,” he repeated, smiling.

Advertisement