Page 22 of The Christmas Holiday
‘So, this is Purana Qila. It’s one of the oldest forts in Delhi. When I first came, there was nothing around to tell you what was what, or what it had been, but, like a lot of Delhi now, they’ve caught on to the tourism potential and nowadays there’s plenty of signage and details giving you the history of the place. It’s more of a park than anythingelse these days, certainly for the locals, and there’s a boating lake and stuff. But it’s got a great atmosphere. Quite a lot of families will come and just enjoy the park and it’s quite popular with couples. Romantic, apparently.’
I let the cynicism – something Hunter had never demonstrated in the time we’d been together – slide. It was hard to do anything else as I took in the surroundings.Ruined walls centuries old, a wide park offering plenty of shade from the Indian sun with families and couples, as he’d suggested, already taking advantage of their day off and walking through the calm, green space. The bright, jewel-rich colours of the women’s saris were highlighted against the green of the trees and the sandy red of the rock, making them shine out even brighter. Just from theshort time I’d been in the country, the one word that kept coming back to me about India was “colour” – and perhaps noise! But here the sounds of the city, the traffic and constant beeping of horns, was kept out. It was truly peaceful and relaxing.
I turned and noticed Hunter watching me. His broad body was at ease, shoulders relaxed, classic Aviators covering the deep-blue eyes.
‘Sorry.’I couldn’t help the smile that still covered my face. ‘Just taking it all in.’
He lifted a hand. ‘No worries. We’ve got the whole day. Take it in. That’s what it’s all about. Obviously, we’ll go to some more out of the way places as well, but I like it here and I thought you would too. It’s kind of an antidote to the craziness of the city outside these walls.’
‘It certainly looks thatway. Can we explore a bit more?’
‘Sure. If we head this way, we can get up onto the walls.’
We spent a couple of hours at the fort, just walking, talking sometimes and sometimes not, but for the first time the silences didn’t seem strained or tense. We were both absorbed in our jobs and the experience. The peace of the surroundings seemed to be ebbing into our own bodies – and I couldhonestly say I was glad of it.
As the day passed, Hunter and I visited places all over the city, from world-famous landmarks like India Gate, Humayan’s Tomb and the Red Fort to off-the-map little back streets full of the most amazing things for sale. I loved every moment, making notes, snapping pictures, and soaking up every ounce of atmosphere that I could. Hunter was generous in his sharingof a world he was already familiar with, and in introducing me to people, as well as giving tips on making my own contacts.
‘Hungry?’ he asked as we stood aside to let a motorbike carrying an entire family of five pass.
‘Starving, actually, now you mention it.’ I’d been so caught up in the experience, it wasn’t until I thought about it that I realised how long it had been since we’d eaten.
‘Me too. Come on. I know a great place.’
We wandered through the streets, curious stares and smiles following us as we did so. Hunter was kind of hard to miss with his height and size and, although I wore a hat to protect me from the now full-on heat of the day, my pale skin and blonde hair didn’t exactly help me blend in either.
‘Here we are.’ Hunter stopped in front of a food stall.‘Best street food in the city.’ He raised a hand in greeting to the man behind the huge metal dish that simmered between us.
‘Ah! You are back for more! Come, come!’
Hunter grinned and pointed to me. ‘I’ve brought a friend and assured her you’re the best. You’re not going to let me down now, are you?’
The man laughed, showing gaps in his teeth. ‘Of course not! Here, ma’am, you sithere.’ There were a few rickety tables and mismatched chairs to the side of the cooking pot. A couple were already occupied and the other customers eyed me curiously as I sat down. Hunter sat beside me, wedging his equipment bag between his feet while he kept the actual camera on his lap. I glanced around, waiting to see what would happen next. We hadn’t been asked what we wanted and it didn’t seemlike the kind of place that had menus. Before I could question Hunter, a teenager appeared, dressed immaculately in white shirt and pressed trousers, bearing two trays of food. He smiled and nodded at us as he put them down.
‘Hello again, Mr Hunter.’
‘Hi, Raj! How’s school?’
The boy grinned broadly and it made me smile too – not the general reaction you got to asking a teenager athome the same question.
‘It’s great!’
‘Any news on the scholarship?’
The boy looked a little self-conscious before raising his eyes, the smile becoming even wider. ‘I have been given it. I am to go to university!’
Hunter’s face returned the boy’s joy. ‘That’s so great! Well done! You really earned it.’ He shook Raj’s hand and clapped his other over the boy’s shoulder, its sizedwarfing his slight, rangy frame.
The boy’s father, the owner, called over to him, and a rattle of Hindi followed. The man glanced at us and raised his hands in mock frustration. ‘Teenagers!’ But there was laughter behind his indignation, and it was clear to see the pride he had in his son.
Hunter shrugged and I smiled, thanking the boy for his service. He did a little nod and rushed offback to his father.
I looked down at my plate and the brightly coloured food on it.
‘Dahl?’ I asked.
‘Yep. Best you’ll ever taste. Even in that hotel.’
Hunter lifted his camera and took a few shots of the food before lowering the Nikon onto his lap again.
