Next day was the Ring Ceremony at noontime. But since we didn’t have much to do the rest of the morning Mehta, my officemate, invited us for a quick visit to India Gate which was close to the hotel. He had a car and driver and off we went to have a walk about the place.
This was India’s answer to the Arc de Triomphe in Paris. Constructed as a memorial and built in memory of the 90,000 soldiers who laid down their lives during World War I, it is a 42-meter high granite structure with the names of those who died engraved on its base. An honor guard stood watch around the site as tourists, touts and picnickers strolled around the spacious lawn. Up on the ceiling of the memorial was a huge beehive which struck me as a bit incongruous, given the importance of the edifice. I asked Mehta about it and he just shrugged his shoulders. This is India and anything goes, he said.
Gladys gets a henna tattoo; we pose with our Indian attire
Close by was another small memorial with a surroundingpool. In it were boys frolicking in the water with their dog. One was quite an exhibitionist and didn’t mind displaying his privates for me to shoot! When it was time to get back to the hotel, the driver was nowhere to be found – perhaps he went sightseeing too! After we waited for almost half an hour in the hot sun, he finally came back. And then we got lost on the way so we arrived while the ceremony was almost halfway through.
This was the part where the bride and groom exchanged wedding rings and got their parents’ blessings. It all took place in a raised dais festooned with colorful flowers. After lots of picture-taking, it was over. Lunch was served, then we had the rest of the day off.
The India Gate and the busy roundabout below our hotel room
Our room on the 16th floor overlooked a quiet neighborhood that was filled with trees as far as the eye could see. It was very relaxing to lounge on the sofa, sipping complimentary Australian red wine while watching, through the glass curtain window, lots of birds wheeling overhead in search of prey on the treetop canopy.
Late in the afternoon, we made a foray to the local emporium downtown with a couple of friends that included my American ex-boss and his Greek wife. We ended up with 2 sets of cotton bedcovers, a Punjabi dress for Gladys, Nehru-style long-sleeve shirts for myself and a beautifully-lacquered wooden chess set for the son (he loves collecting these and I oblige him whenever I could find one wherever I travel). Plus an intricately-carved marble elephant of the god Ganesh for good luck.
Nitika and her Dad; exchange of rings
The loot could have gotten bigger but thank God, the government-run shops closed at exactly 5:30PM. The women in our group enthusiastically said that we could all go back tomorrow again while us guys grimaced in pain.
We all agreed to meet up at the hotel’s Chinese restaurant for dinner where we had great conversation. Adnan, the GM of Kuwait’s Khiran Resort, told us hilarious stories about their day trip to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. He said he got pissed-off when the photographer he hired to take their “We Were Here at the Taj” pictures insisted on selling him extra photos with the lot he had ordered. The guy argued that he took those extra shots just to make sure that none of them blinked, thereby having their eyes accidentally closed.
So what’s wrong with that, I asked. What’s wrong?! - he said in mock disgust – we were all wearing sunglasses!
After a couple of gin tonics more and much laughter, we called it a night.
