Sunday, November 19 Fairs, Crafts Museum, Big Chill

I spent the morning wandering around Delhi. The biggest trade fair in the world is going on in Delhi, the Indian International Trade Fair, and so I bought a ticket and rode the bus down to Pragati Maidan to check it out. It was hell on earth. The site is a huge exhibition ground, with like 10 gates. I had to walk about two blocks, and every street was jam-packed with cars, people, and policemen. As I neared the gate, I had to follow some people, walk past a bunch of people going the other way. I felt like a rag doll. Without fail, every person’s shoulder hit mine. In the US, that is not acceptable, and people would get extremely irritated and take it as a sign of aggression. Here, no one even notices, except for me. In front of the gate, it was a loud busy mess. There were probably about 50,000 people lined up in a mob outside, waiting to get in. That settled that, and I decided it’s not worth fighting people to get in, so I walked around to the Crafts Museum instead. The entire way was shoulder-to-shoulder people; I’d say there were probably 200,000 people…only outside the grounds! It was a spectacle I’ve never seen before; it’s like half of Delhi was here. I guess I walked the wrong way, and a policeman smacked me in the arm, with his stick. I hate this place. After getting pissed off and yelling at him, I proceeded to the Crafts Museum, which was an oasis of peace and quiet. It had a bunch of really intricate handlooms on display, as well as a bunch of carvings. These guys were lifting up the glass on some brassware exhibit, and all of a sudden I heard a loud ‘crash’. I looked over, and they had dropped the glass on the brassware, breaking the pieces. So much for the priceless art. The museum was horribly labeled, so you kind of had to guess at which pieces were from where. Being here since June, I actually know my fabrics quite well, for India is known for them. I did some shopping at the little stalls of the Crafts Museum. I took a rickshaw, because the buses weren’t allowed to stop at Pragmati Maidan, to the US Embassy school, for the American Women’s Association Mela Fair, on the invitation of Holly Shrikhande. When I got into the place, it was just like a fair in the states, such as Summer Celebration, Folklife Festival, or a company picnic. They had really expensive American food, some Indian man singing the Eagles, and a lot of white people shopping at really overpriced stalls along the perimeter of the grassy area. It was like I was in America. I got some gifts, and asked where Holly was, but she apparently wasn’t there, so I bounced. It was really weird seeing so many big, white Americans again, which is going to make going home even more shocking. The people in that place were so rich they all had private cars and chauffers. They looked baffled when I asked the way, so I could walk my ass to the public bus stop. I had lunch at Saravana Bhavan, which, again, was outstanding. Then I came home and started writing my outsourced paper on Kashmir. It was horrendous. It took a really long time. I went with Ro, Alix, and Snehal, to upscale Khan Market for the first time. We ate at Big Chill, an Italian-American diner, which felt like Pagliacchi’s or Red Robin. It was really good, and had great desserts (hence my eating a main course and three desserts). I came back and worked endlessly on my paper again.