India is a country as diverse as it is large. That's one of the prevailing myths about the sub-continent/country - that it is one people, with one systems of beliefs, laws, and ideals. This couldn't be further from the truth.
The vast country is home top hundreds of different dialects and languages. The cultures and values range widely from place to place. And, as anyone will tell you, the laws apply to different people in different ways.
There is certainly beauty in the country, in its people, its land, its food, and history. But it is also an ugly, ugly, place.
All of this, and more, culminates in the Paharganj, Central Delhi. A sprawling cascade of hostels, vendors, restaurants, cooks, thieves, beggars, and tourists.
Once known as an affordable hotspot for backpackers, crime and safety concerns (especially for women) have pushed visitors further south.
It's easy to see why. If you look like a foreigner, you will be constantly berated with touts and calls. There is no such thing as a casual conversation with a local in this part of the city. Everyone there is hustling - hard.
On one memorable trip to the train station, seven separate people tried to redirect me - telling me the station was closed, or not in the direction I was going, or didn't exist - all to get me to go to an associates business, who would charge me quadruple for the same tickets I could get at the station.
But once the locals figure out you aren't an easy mark, they'll start to spread the word and leave you alone. After that, you're free to soak up the muddled mess of humanity for all it's worth.
And there are some shining spots. Legions of chai dealers can be found around the market, each one with its own unique way of brewing. Find one you like (where the milk isn't sour) and pay 10 Rs or so per clay cup.
And if shopping your thing, there are tons of deals to be had.
It's also a great place for a little street photography. There's just so much going on, all the time, it's hard not to appreciate that here, in this dirty, crazy place, humanity is concentrated down to its most visceral.
A man grinds pomegranates for juice as another watches on.
One thing India is the best at, bar none, is produce. Some of the best fruits and veggies I've ever had were had here.
This man was kind enough to let me take his picture. He only harassed me for a bit of money after the fact (and then a bit more, as is tradition).
Don't smoke, but if you do, this guy had the best price on what was probably knock-off American Spirit tobacco. That said, don't be afraid to haggle and shop around a little bit. It's expected in most cases. However, don't expect, or argue for, local prices. These vendors take charging foreigners more as a point of pride, and they're derided by their colleagues if they drop prices too much.
Watch out for charlatans! This man was walking around, dolling out bindis for dollars. It's not spiritual, it's just a scam and a means of ignorant cultural appropriation.
The angry street vendor. If you're haggling in the market, the best advice I can give you is to be prepared to walk away, even if it's something you love. Because if you fall in love that easy, another is just around the corner.
"You need something special?" No thanks brother, I'm special enough.
Late at night, down a quiet (for the area) back street, people gather in revelry. During the event, I notice locals putting money into a basket. I asked a new friend if I should do the same. In stark contrast to the rest of my experience, they said that I should not. It was a custom for the citizens only.
Paharganj has a strange sort of agelessness about it, with architecture and design elements spanning hundred of years all piled on top of one another.
Outside a hostel where I did not stay.
Work, love, scorn, and praise. All found in the hodgepodge of Paharganj.
Thanks for checking out my post! Have you ever been to this part of New Delhi? What was your experience like?
All photos copyright Feral Photography/@catharcissism.