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     Delhi is north and inland, most of its 14 million are Muslim, whereas Mumbai is coastal and 10 million, mostly Hindu.  Delhi is the modern capital, and is loaded with government buildings and very wide, parade ready streets.  Mumbai streets are impossible (see post below) and its architecture smaller scale, dating from the British Raj, and is a more garish version of London East End Victorian.

The entire city of Delhi is choking on hot red dust that never dissipates, except in the monsoon season—picture August, noon, Yuma, Arizona.  The remains of the past Mughal Rule in India are everywhere in Dehli. The crumbling structures and congested by-lanes still exist within the old walled city.  Lal Quila (“the Red Fort’) is a block of disintegrating red sandstone— the same shade of the infield dirt at Dodger Stadium.  It squats on the bank of river Yamuna.  This monster was built by Shahjahan, the same Mughal King who went nuts for a woman and built the Taj Mahal, now a mecca for throngs of white western females swooning over the fairy tale edifice to romantic love.

Kingfisher beer is cheap in the cafes and often served with a saucer of peanuts.  But Delhi street food is great too—way better than in Mumbai, although you’ll miss the grilled mackerel and coconut fish curry. There is plenty of  fresh fruit, briyani (spicy basmati rice slow cooked with cheap diced meat and whatever is handy), puri (unleavened pocket bread deep fried and sometimes filled with whatever is handy) and masala (“masala” means “mix of,” usually paired with “garam” meaning hot  and spicy, or “chana” meaning chickpeas—blended with—you guessed it—whatever is handy).  For some reason the lassi (cold yogurt drink) is creamier and silkier here than down south.

With every street food order you get a star child chef ——-a tiny Indian version of Bobby Flay, skillfully tossing together local ingredients over a makeshift oil barrel grill fueled by scavenged construction site wood. “Are you ready for a throw down?”