On the hunt for water colour paper takes me to Old Delhi, Chawri Bazar. This is one of the worlds largest paper, card and stationery centres in the world. A quick metro ride and I am ascending four levels into the busyness of the streets. The metro is located under Old Delhi. Separate small entrances on street corners allow entry or exit from the metro rather than the more expansive egress of other metro stations.
To says the area is crowded is an under statement. At first glance is seems as if boxes have been stacked one atop the other held in place by gravity. The spaces, houses, businesses, offices maximise the use of minimal space. At ground level it is a challenge to walk a straight line, whether skinny pavement or crowded road. Shopfronts start with a sellers bench abutting the pavement behind which he is seated, merchandise spread across the walls or in display cabinets, dusty, ancient. Fans overhang the seller, the width between two and three metres. Shelving reaches from floor to ceiling and extends into the cavernous space, light struggling to illuminate.
It is evident this is serious business with everyone vying for trade and specialise in stock. Some caves filled with bright colour of many and various patterned wrapping paper. Another shimmers with layer upon layer of foil wrapping paper, silver base providing reflective qualities. Cellophane sits like stained glass in thick slabs, colours alternating. Another merchant specialises in paper of all types, thicknesses, selling only A1 by sheet or ream. His sample cards rest on the bench held together by a thin round metal ring. Like a tailor enquirers walking away with a sample swatch, information scrawled on one side. Seekers arrive with their own sample trying to match exactly stock which may exist in the interior of the shops. A section of this quarter deals only with cards. Mostly hand made paper, wedding, invitation specialists, decorated with diadems, rich braid, tassels, fabric, beads. The variety is endless. Printing presses can be seen between shops or in the back where the space seems to widen. These are hand presses and electric. Domestic necessities occupy another section selling paper bags awaiting company logo and colours. Folders and school items are evident as you move further down the street and enter into stationery quarter. If you cannot find what your looking for here it is because your exhausted and given up.
The shopfronts are broken by tiny laneways with not enough space for even a cycle rickshaw. Foot traffic only, businesses are actually holes in the wall with enough space for the seller to sit and conduct business stock climbing the walls. Each alleyway houses a public urinal which you are aware of well before reaching. The laneways are dark, covered mostly overhead by the structures above and wires reaching like aerial fig roots looking for the ground. These seek the electricity poles on the main street and fight to tap into power, whether legally or illegally. I'm not sure how anyone could monitor meter use to send an account. Skulking around the alleyways are human mules looking for work. To move goods in and out of the laneways requires human labour. A donut cushion of twisted fabric to sit on the head on which a crude knock up small pallet rests and the goods, paper products, carefully stacked. It is an art watching them find the central balance point as they move deftly, with heavy poise, through the laneways dodging everything else happening.
On the main road, delivery vehicles line both sides of the street leaving enough space down the centre of the road for vehicles to navigate. There are stands of push bikes and motor bikes, between which small chai and snack stalls operate. The next layer consists of flat tray cycle rickshaws empty, or if laden well above the height of the cyclist. Flat tray hand pull carts are three metres long and sixty centimetres wide, low to the road with strong solid steel rims with pieces of tyre adhered to them for some bounce. Two metres are solid tray and one metre is strong slats with lengths of rope used to hold the load. To balance there is an angle stand towards the pulling end. Designed well for their purpose they are useful seats and beds for the porters awaiting custom. The motorised vehicles are variations on an auto rickshaw but designed as a small delivery truck. These green vehicles dominate colour in this area.
The underdog here is the binding tape. Flat plastic ribbon in several hues are used to wrap, bind and stitch bundles and parcels together. Between the paper stores every now and then is a binding store. Coils of string hang from the walls and ceiling and are sold by the hundreds of metres. Parcel stitchers sit on the narrow pavement or flat trays and wrap paper or card bundles into manageable parcels. Using plastic woven hessian style cloth with six inch long needles to stitch the sides. Other parcels are created by tying string around good and making a handle to carry. The only thing you don't see is the paper maker himself. Down one of the alleyways a guillotinist accurately slices and trims paper and card to precise measurements and he did with the watercolour paper I found, from A1 to A4.
There is a building ceiling in the area up to four storeys. One intrigues, a Harry Potter four storey stone fronted building amongst the constructs either side. It is out of place and looks to be only six feet wide top to bottom. I am very curious but it is shuttered closed and seems to have been for a long time. Windows on the upper three storeys are caged or barred; Protection from monkeys and thieves. Flashing small LED signs compete with the conglomeration of other signage fighting to advertise location and businesses. Above the paper sellers are quite a few advertising sitars, harmonium, guitars, and tablas as well as import and export offices. Air conditioners hang precariously from windows propped on sturdy, and some not so, brackets taking up the remainder of the wall space.
The local fruit merchant travels down the traffic jam selling strawberries and oranges whilst looking to the end of the street, the Jama Masjid ( mosque ) looms large. The whole area is dominated by Muslims.
The locals try to engage whilst I am waiting for the paper to be trimmed. They speak in Arabic, establish that I am Australian and try all of their very limited English, teasing and goading each other. They have some Hindi and we communicate, though it is still very much one way and at my expense. They have fun and there is much laughter. Many signs and hand signals are used as well. I am useful as a distraction while they wile away the long wait sitting on their trolleys.
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