We went to the Garden of the Five Senses which our guidebook recommended as one of the top 10 garden parks in the city. What the guide book didn’t tell us and what explained the sign at the entrance (Please observe decency) became clear quickly after we entered the whimsical gardens – it was a place for teenagers in love, probably escaping from overcrowding at home and little privacy. The gardens were full of small love nests; hidden behind bushes, under trees with low hanging branches, behind and under rocks formations, around the turn of each of the small pathways there were teenage couples in full embrace. This particular usage of the park probably explained why we saw very few people either younger or older than teenagers.
Trying in vain to stumble on teenage couples (they were everywhere) we did make it to the park’s highest point that offered superb views of southwest New Delhi, including the majestic Qutub Minar. In addition to interesting flora the park also had lots of very nice sculptures made by Indian and non Indian artists. The design of the park was odd, appearing like an unresolved disagreement between the designers around how much structure to put in, whether to follow the ancient Persian design of squares and right angles, bisected by water ways (the water was turned off spoiling the effect somewhat) or the British more natural approach to gardens and parks. The combination didn’t quite work for us but it clearly worked great for the teenagers.
After lunch we strolled around the old Haus Khaz section of town, famous for its ancient water tank, madrassa and tombs but also for its curio shops and fancy designers. We poked around one jumble shop where Axel found some old and ripped Indian movie posters while I enjoyed looking at a treasure trove of old embroidered pieces from all over India and Central Asia, including Ghazni. The pieces were stashed away in plastic bags that I found in dusty corners of the overflowing shop.
The shopkeeper treated her treasures rather nonchalantly, explaining the rips in the posters and the poorly preserved textiles. She was happy to explain to us the various panels of painted temple wall hangings, the story of Sita and Ram, and many other Hindu tales depicted on various items in her fascinating store.
We strolled through the Hauz Khas park, watched the spotted deer and peacocks and stumbled on one ancient building after another. Wherever you go in Delhi there are remnants of its past rulers – Mughals especially but also those pre-dating the arrival of Babur . These buildings are in various states of disrepair and rehabilitation. They dot parks and squares and gardens with Indian life going on around them as if they are unremarkable parts of the landscape. The awe that these buildings inspired in me also made me think about the blood, sweat and tears that must have gone into their construction – all to the greater glory of the winning Y-chromosome.
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