A spice market

After weeks of talking about it, Amma and I finally headed out to old Delhi, to see it all decked out for the month of Ramzaan. I have heard fabulous tales of exotic spices, fairy lights, music and roasting kebabs. True, most of those tales were for Charminar in Hyderabad, where I never managed to go during the month before Eid. Nevertheless, I was determined to recreate them here, in Delhi, when I can.

Amma's friend Uma aunty was our guide. She was born in Delhi and went to school and college here, and is past mistress of the art of shopping in Shahjehanabad's maze of gullies. She led us first to the Khari Baoli spice market, which is where I stocked up on lots of stuff that should all make eventual appearances here.
The streets were crowded as always, with the dry fruit vendors doing an extremely brisk trade. Every shop had gunny sacks and baskets filled with almonds of different grades, sticky brown raisins, large dats, small dates, dry dates and fresh 'uns, cashewnuts stacked in tall plastic bottles, dried plums, figs dried and threaded on twigs, and oh, so much more. I tasted, negotiated and bought, and then timidly asked if I could take photographs. The shop owner waved his acquiescence; he was already busy with his next customer.

In another shop, I snapped away as Amma bought a hundred grams of bright green cardamom pods. This stuff could be currency. I was already dreaming of steaming cups of eliachi chai when we passed a gunny sack filled with makhana.

Makhana are popped lotus seeds: basically Indian popcorn. We don't see much of it down south, but I've heard of how it makes a really wonderful kheer. Of course, I bought some. I told myself it was for the blog.

By this time, the spice market was getting rather crowded. There were men everywhere, carrying heavy plastic sacks on their heads. Barrows loaded with mysterious boxes were being wheeled hither and thither. It began drizzling and the sky looked moody. We adjudged it wise to turn back.

On our way back though, we passed the clothing and dress materials market, and of course we had to stop. I have only these two measly pictures: of the interior of a dress shop, and of mounds of freshly ground henna, that smelled really fragrant. I was too busy pointing, discussing, bargaining, buying, and my camera lay in my bag, forgotten.