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Page 12 · column 7 of 9 · from the scan, no model involved
edge of Old Delhi. We walked up the long line of stores displaying the characteristic handicrafts of the various tates of the Indian Union. From there we went on to a governmentcontrolled emporium that offered a fantastic range ot goods—jewelry, metalwork, toys, textiles, paintings on canvas, wood or ivory, and so on. Up to that point, Virginia and I had not expected to be bitten by the shopping bug. but then we thought of the children, grandchildren and sundry friends we were to visit on our way home, not to mention those in the U.S.A. So we were launched on our first buying spree. At the cashier’s desk, where all bills had to be paid and money changed, we had our first taste of the massive paperwork typical of Indian bureaucracy, another legacy of the old Raj.
That hurdle surmounted, we started for home. The bus had long since departed, and we were left to hail one of the three-wheeled minicabs, built, it seemed out of a motorbike, that abound in Delhi. It was a noisy, gasoline-scented. nervewracking ride through what we guessed to be rush-hour traffic. But we made it unscathed.
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