Going shopping in Delhi (and finding out about the LeT)
After finding some of my fellow associates in the hotel the afternoon after I arrived, we decided to go out that night. We assembled in the exective lounge for the complimentary food and drinks, and watched the international edition of CNN. Ironically, it was my upstairs neighbor from Atlanta, a CNN anchor, who announced that scores had died in three seperate Delhi marketplace bombings, which were timed to cooincide with shopping for the upcoming Diwali celebration. Despite all the moral censorship on TV here, the stark footage of the bombings hid nothing; charred bodies, faces frozen in grimaces of horror, were shown being covered and carted away.
We debated whether or not to go out; some people from the local office who manage the affairs of the expats called to say that we should stay in our hotel through the end of Diwali, but that was still 2 or 3 days away.
The bombing was blamed on the LeT, what I learned is a terrorist organization related to the conflict in Kashmir. J&K as it's referred to here- Jammu and Kashmir. In the US it's only Kashmir that you really hear about. The target of the bombing was the Indians shopping for Diwali; there are conflicts after all that don't directly involve the U.S., though the number of those seems to diminish thanks to our foreign policy.
The next morning a couple of associates from the hotel decided to go to a market to pick up some things they had on order, before one of them left. I decided to go along, not wanting to spend another day in my wood and marble prison. We took a cab there after much haggling (the hotel cabs rip foreigners off, about which the hotel does nothing). When we arrived to one of the markets, I felt uneasy... the bombs from the markets the night before were said to have exploded from a parked car or motorcycle- and we passed row after row jammed into the market's parking lot, right up against the store fronts. Loud bangs resounded from all around, as people lit firecrackers to celebrate Diwali. I found that I didn't really want to be in this market as much as I had thought I would, and felt more unsafe than I remember feeling in a long time. The guards sliding a mirror on a stick under the front bumper of cars as they entered the market was just putting on a performance; a bomb could fit in a trunk or gas tank as easily as it could under the front bumper. A couple of weeks later I still have to sit through that performance as I ride into my hotel. The associates with me commented that the market was almost empty; it was the equivalent of a major mall being devoid of shoppers on Christmas Eve. It felt far from empty to me, and several times in each store I found myself glancing at the parking lot through the window at the cars parked right outside, wondering if any moment it would explode and a storm of window glass would come flying in.
It was a relief returning to my hotel that day.
Three weeks later, I went to a market to buy a kurtya to wear to a wedding. A month of experience in India already behind me, I went by myself from store to store nonchalantly, concerned only with finding shoes to fit my size 13 feet- not an easy task here. I passed a store that looked familiar, and realized that I was at the same shopping center as I was the day after the bombings- but this time the apprehension was gone. I think I'm finally adjusting.
After finding some of my fellow associates in the hotel the afternoon after I arrived, we decided to go out that night. We assembled in the exective lounge for the complimentary food and drinks, and watched the international edition of CNN. Ironically, it was my upstairs neighbor from Atlanta, a CNN anchor, who announced that scores had died in three seperate Delhi marketplace bombings, which were timed to cooincide with shopping for the upcoming Diwali celebration. Despite all the moral censorship on TV here, the stark footage of the bombings hid nothing; charred bodies, faces frozen in grimaces of horror, were shown being covered and carted away.
We debated whether or not to go out; some people from the local office who manage the affairs of the expats called to say that we should stay in our hotel through the end of Diwali, but that was still 2 or 3 days away.
The bombing was blamed on the LeT, what I learned is a terrorist organization related to the conflict in Kashmir. J&K as it's referred to here- Jammu and Kashmir. In the US it's only Kashmir that you really hear about. The target of the bombing was the Indians shopping for Diwali; there are conflicts after all that don't directly involve the U.S., though the number of those seems to diminish thanks to our foreign policy.
The next morning a couple of associates from the hotel decided to go to a market to pick up some things they had on order, before one of them left. I decided to go along, not wanting to spend another day in my wood and marble prison. We took a cab there after much haggling (the hotel cabs rip foreigners off, about which the hotel does nothing). When we arrived to one of the markets, I felt uneasy... the bombs from the markets the night before were said to have exploded from a parked car or motorcycle- and we passed row after row jammed into the market's parking lot, right up against the store fronts. Loud bangs resounded from all around, as people lit firecrackers to celebrate Diwali. I found that I didn't really want to be in this market as much as I had thought I would, and felt more unsafe than I remember feeling in a long time. The guards sliding a mirror on a stick under the front bumper of cars as they entered the market was just putting on a performance; a bomb could fit in a trunk or gas tank as easily as it could under the front bumper. A couple of weeks later I still have to sit through that performance as I ride into my hotel. The associates with me commented that the market was almost empty; it was the equivalent of a major mall being devoid of shoppers on Christmas Eve. It felt far from empty to me, and several times in each store I found myself glancing at the parking lot through the window at the cars parked right outside, wondering if any moment it would explode and a storm of window glass would come flying in.
It was a relief returning to my hotel that day.
Three weeks later, I went to a market to buy a kurtya to wear to a wedding. A month of experience in India already behind me, I went by myself from store to store nonchalantly, concerned only with finding shoes to fit my size 13 feet- not an easy task here. I passed a store that looked familiar, and realized that I was at the same shopping center as I was the day after the bombings- but this time the apprehension was gone. I think I'm finally adjusting.
posted by Jason at 2:27 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home