Slow Down Awhile and Get to Know Your Neighbors in Delhi, Texas

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By Jawahar Malhotra

DELHI, TX:  A persistent tail wind flinging sprays of intermittent rain followed me on a bitterly cold Sunday morning as the Arctic front made its way across Texas and invaded the Hill Country. I had an errand to make just north of Gonzales at the Happy Hens Farm that required taking the cut-off to on to State Highway 304 just this side of Bastrop, east of the Colorado River.

The little town of Delhi is nothing more than several structures along the sides of Texas Highway 304 in Caldwell County. The church, cemetery and community center are on the east side and the volunteer fire station is on the west side. A historical marker by the community center identifies the significance of the small settlement.

The little town of Delhi is nothing more than several structures along the sides of Texas Highway 304 in Caldwell County. The church, cemetery and community center are on the east side and the volunteer fire station is on the west side. A historical marker by the community center identifies the significance of the small settlement.

The lack of traffic, the crunch of the asphalt road and the 70 mile speed limit lulled me into the hypnotic rhythm of driving when I noticed a sign that sped by and came to a quick stop. I drove back in reverse to look at the sign again. Sure enough, it said “Delhi” and for this lad from that metropolis in the Old Country, it was like a red beacon luring him to stop and tarry for awhile.

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To the west side, was the Delhi Volunteer Fire Department with two overhead doors, a gravel drive and two flag poles framing the building sign and a granite memorial to two fallen firefighters in front, with lots of space left for those who might fall in the future.

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Across the highway was the Delhi Baptist Church, proclaiming its service hours and praising the Lord on a low glass encased sign. The pastor probably lived in the house next door with the minivan in the drive and to the side and behind the church was the Delhi Cemetery, opened in 1880, the wrought iron sign above the gate proclaimed, locking in the rows of gravestones.

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A few steps beyond the church was the Delhi Community Center, with a sign on a two-wheeled trailer still advertising the Delhi Ladies Club Bazaar from eight days ago, on November 16. To the left was an open-sided wooden pavilion with wooden benches and country tables and just steps away, two more white wooden buildings marked off the boundaries of a gathering field.

In front, a grey steel and black enamel plaque erected by the Texas Historical Commission before an oak tree described how Delhi was settled around 1870 by Orin and Susannah Winters. When the Post Office opened in 1873, it rejected the first name – Iron Mountain – selected by the community but accepted the second name, Delhi, which was the name of a traveling salesman who stayed there for awhile and dispensed patent medicines and provided entertainment for the settlers.

The town flourished for a while with two cotton gins, a school, a syrup mill, blacksmith, casket shop and other businesses and the population climbed to 200 but declined to 30 by 1925 after the post office closed in 1929, and even further to 25 by 1940. By 2000 the population had risen back up to 300, with the town folk mostly tending to farms in the area as the sandy foam soils make it ideal for agriculture and raising livestock.

But this Sunday, there were none of the townsfolk around to badger with questions whether they knew why the traveling salesman was named “Delhi”. Was he a long lost desi, an Indian in Cowboy country who may have been selling some Aryuvedic or homeopathic medicines? What charms did he possess that made the community honor him forever in this way? My mind wondered as I climbed back in to drive the rest of the way down to Interstate 10 towards the Happy Hens Farm.