The red sandstone floors of the central courtyard were radiating with heat directly from the blazing overhead sun. It was supposedly autumn but this bustling city was still constantly heated up in midday like a mini oven. I was at one of my favorite spots in Delhi with two of my kindred friends. My aim was simple and focused - to get to the top of the minaret and spend as much time up there as possible. It was at this vantage point, years ago, that I first fell in love with and caught a very little glimpse of God's heart for India. Just that very little glimpse had wrecked me forever.
But that is another long story that I will spare you. Today, 5 years had gone by and I am back again. Times have changed this nation, yet some things will never change. Gone are many of the scenes of poverty surrounding the mosque - the run-down sheds have become studier concrete and the rivers of waste meandering the alleyways have half disappeared (at least they are no longer rivers), as well as the overwhelmingly putrifying smell that used to hang like a veil over the old city. But the crows who have watched the evolution of the area remain, fluttering their inky black wings to occasionally block out the sunlight, flying around in herds to perch on different sacred landings in the mosque compound. The faces in the mosque have also changed - from dejection to that of hope; from religious piety to wanting to scrap whatever they can out of the tourists that trespass. As we stand on top of the minaret, taking it all in, we hear a different sound arising from the Old City. It is no longer the sound of poverty, sickness and death, but that of commerce, trade, transactions, and the unmistakable hustle-bustles of LIFE. Delhi has changed.
