Delhi Magic

Delhi Magic on Hindustan Times

2012-01-28T09:01:00.001+05:30

My phone has been ringing non-stop this morning. Today's Hindustan Times carries a Delhi Magic listing.

I'm surprised at the response, actually. Firstly, I hadn't quite realised how much power the newspapers have, even though we live in the era of television. Secondly, I didn't realise there was so much "pent-up demand" for bazaar walks among Delhi wallas :)

We have quite a few walks coming up, so I will post some walk schedules on the Delhi Magic facebook page.

I've "cut-pasted" the relevant bits of the HT story into a single box below.

Unveiling India

2012-01-20T16:06:00.000+05:30

I have just finished reading 'Unveiling India' by Anees Jung. The book is about Indian women, about their inner lives, about traditions and about change.

It is a beautifully written book, almost lyrical. Words flow easily for Anees; maybe it is a gift, but maybe it is also because she really understands the women she is writing about. As a Muslim woman from Hyderabad, she is as much a part of the story as the many urban and rural women in her book. Anecdotes about her mother and father, and the traditions she grew up with, helped me understand where she came from, so I was able to better see the country through her eyes.

In the book, Anees visits women in many parts of India. She finds that among them there is a commonality, a shared sense of femininity and motherhood, a sense of rootedness. She senses the enormous reserves of fortitude among the women she meets. Theirs is an exploited and under-appreciated existence, but they bear it with a stubborn dignity.

Where does this strength come from? Personally I think that it is a sense of duty, a vision of the 'ideal woman', that gives Indian women strength. High ideals, drummed into girls from early childhood, create a self-image where sacrifice, resilience and patience are not just virtues to be cultivated, but the very essence of womanhood, the very basis of identity. Through legends and tales, through mythology and popular imagery, these ideals are internalised until they become very real. Anees talks about how her own mother, by effacing herself, by completely living for her children and family, achieves almost a goddess-like glow. Anees envies that calm, that certainty which comes from the knowledge that you are living up to an ideal.

As someone who has stepped out from that comfortable traditional veiled corner, Anees is both an outsider as well as an insider. A lot like me, really :) and like many of the women I know. That's why I love this book. Because Anees sees the contradictions first-hand, and she looks for answers not only from the women she meets, but also within herself.

Perhaps she romanticizes things a bit; perhaps she puts Indian women on a pedestal. Perhaps she glosses over the role of women in perpetuating exploitative and unequal systems. But it is a wonderful book nonetheless, very moving, full of imagery, and a real insight into India. It is also a book where hope triumphs, so it doesn't leave you feeling depressed at the end of it all.

Read it if you can; preferably before you visit India, and you will begin to understand what lies behind the faces that you see.

INA Market - Refuge of the Delhi Tamilian!

2011-12-16T14:10:00.005+05:30

This small shop in INA Market is quite familiar to most South Indians living in Delhi.

It's where you go for those little things that you can't do without -

Bright yellow banana chips, fried in coconut oil and salted to perfection.
Raw green bananas, for the avial that you crave.
Green banana leaves, for serving traditional meals on festive occasions.
Sweet banana fritters, deliciously smothered in jaggery and dusted with dried ginger powder.
Fresh coconuts, without which no South Indian household can survive.
The little shallots that all Tamilians call "sambar vengayam", when you want to make the perfect sambar to eat with pongal.
A crazy bhujia-type thing called "mixture", there is no other word for it, but you'll find it served at 4:00 p.m. along with filter coffee.
Copies of Kumudam, murukku and ten-kozhal, Kerala appalams, Tamil pappadams.....ah, I could go on and on!

It looks like just any other old shop. But it has its definite place in the universe :)

Not far from the shop, there is this stall, selling medu-vadas. Served hot with chutney and sambar, by a guy wearing a folded lungi, they bring a little dash of South Indian soul into Delhi!

The medu-vada guy. Go around 11 am and you'll find it served hot.

Golden-brown medu-vada, crisp on the outside, spongy on the inside, with tiny bits of green chili, ginger and pepper to surprise you when you bite into it. Sigh...pure heaven.

Delhi Airport Metro Express

2011-11-20T23:31:00.012+05:30

The Airport Metro Express is a great option if you want to get into the city in under 20 minutes. Works well, is not crowded, and if you don't have much luggage it is easy to manage.

From the airport there are only 4 stops on the Airport Express - Aerocity, Dhaula Kuan, Shivaji Stadium and New Delhi station (NDLS).

Unfortunately, if you exit the Metro at Shivaji Stadium (closest for Connaught Place), it is not easy to find local transport to get you to the exact place you want to go.

There are auto-rickshaws, but they are a pretty grim bunch of guys who I don't trust much. It would be really, really nice if they had a pre-paid taxi service running from the Metro stations, to get you to your home or hotel or wherever else you want to go. I didn't see any, but maybe they do? Does anyone know?

But the Airport Metro Express does look like the perfect option for backpackers who want to get to New Delhi Railway Station. The budget hotels of Paharganj are very close to the station. The hotels also offer pickup from the railway station.

Here are photos from my Delhi Airport Metro Express trip:

Boarding from the airport. The train is not exceptionally busy.

A lot of airport staff are on the train, but also you see several people with backpacks and small suitcases.

Inside the Metro Express. Note the luggage racks.

Most of the journey is underground, but for some phases the train emerges outside and you can see the city below.

I loved this photo of the Green Bus and the Green Auto :) both running on natural gas. Delhi looks very green in this photo!

And in this photo too! This is the Delhi Ridge, the green cover that protects the city!

On the horizon you can see Rashtrapati Bhavan (the President's House) and the centre of New Delhi.

In 18 minutes, I exited at Shivaji Stadium on Baba Kharak Singh Marg, near the city centre.

I didn't see any taxis or auto-rickshaws waiting outside. Maybe there is a service. If anyone knows, please tell me.

Air India passengers can check in at Shivaji Stadium.

I'm waiting to see how this Metro Express service does, and how much tourists are able to use it. I hope it works well. It is very hassle-free and quick.

The Amazing Pickle Shop

2011-10-16T08:50:00.015+05:30

Just behind the bathing ghats in Haridwar is a very interesting market, with all kinds of spices and pickles and herbs and what not. I spent an hour walking through this market, so now I have a zillion photos, but for today I thought I'd just share this one:

THE AMAZING PICKLE SHOP

Just *look* at all the varieties he has got!

I tried to count all the types of pickles, in tubs and bottles, but gave up when I reached 50.

If you find the image too small to see, try this facebook page: The Amazing Pickle Shop

As it turns out, I can't name most of them!! So here is my first attempt at labelling at least some of them, and I hope you guys reading this will be able to identify the rest!

And here's the second set:

As if all these achars were not enough, he had loads and loads of interesting bottles too! Pickles, murabbas, chutneys, powders, sherbets, juice extracts, “health” drinks, ayurvedic balms, and what not.

I was soooo tempted to hang around at that shop, looking at all his stuff (and tasting it!). But we we still needed to get to the ghats, so I dragged myself away. What a shame. The shopkeeper was the friendly chatty sort too. You know the type that are proud of their wares? Those are the best :) because you can get lots of info from them.

Seriously, some day I am going back again. Or at least, the next Amazing Pickle Shop that I spot, I'm going to stop and spend a happy half hour tasting and clicking and furiously scribbling notes. Oh and I'll buy myself a lassi to drink in-between tiny achaar nibbles. Heaven!

The English are gone but...

2011-09-24T10:17:00.009+05:30

From the intrepid Nazneen, on her solo Golden Triangle trip:

Gorgeous aerial view photos of schoolchildren queuing at Humayun's Tomb.

The queue has a strangely hypnotic quality, doesn't it? As if it has a life of its own.

I also simply *love* the way the queue is snaking its way through the centre of the Char Bagh Mughal Garden scheme.

The first Mughal Emperor Babur built many gardens, to make "that charmless and disorderly Hind (India)" feel more like home.

He was inspired by (and perhaps homesick for) the gorgeous gardens of Samarkand and Herat that he had left behind. Among the earliest things he planted in India were melons, I'm told.

In the Victoria and Albert Museum, there is a watercolour painting of Babur supervising the laying out of Bagh-e-Wafa at Kabul. It is in the Char Bagh style, and water flows merrily in the middle. The Emperor wears golden robes. There are orange-laden trees in the foreground, and birds in the sky. The brick walls enclose a little slice of paradise....

A closer look reveals that pomegranates were also among the favourites being planted. See how beautifully the fruit is detailed. There is a dove delicately perched on a pomegranate branch. The gardeners have their sleeves rolled up. Ah, the pleasures of a Mughal miniature.

As someone who dearly loves her little potted plants, and gets a great deal of pleasure from simply looking at them every day, I feel a sense of affinity with this Mongol king.

Looking at this painting, I can't help thinking that the popular image of the Mongols as "barbarians" conveniently ignores the softer and more aesthetic aspects of their life.

Woohoo!! We are on India Today Travel Plus and THE YAHOO HOMEPAGE!!

2011-09-16T12:51:00.013+05:30

This month, India Today Travel Plus listed "10 Must-do Walks in India".

And guess what?

3 out of the 10 are ours!

My Old Delhi Food Trail, the Mylapore Bazaar Walk in Chennai, and my Matunga Market Walk in Mumbai are among them.

As you can guess, I am *very* pleased indeed!

And guess what - This story made it to Yahoo India!! So we're also the Home Page Story on Yahoo today!!

Text of article here:

Old Delhi Food Trail
What's the first thought that comes to your mind when you think of food in Delhi? Mughlai? Perish the thought. For a change, focus on the unique 'Baniya' vegetarian streetfood of Sitaram Bazaar. The Old Delhi Food Trail walks you through the bazaar to learn about the ingredients and essentials of Indian cooking. The colourful and interesting streetfood in this market caters to the Baniya community. Crisp Gol Gappas, Kulcha Chole, Bedmi Puri (stuffed with a spicy mixture of lentils), Nagori Halwa (small puris served with halwa)--the list of enticing streetfood is endless. After this, visit Masterji Kee Haveli, one of the last-standing havelis in Delhi. Here, you can choose to participate in the cooking of a vegetarian meal or just watch. This is not a cooking lesson though; it is a chance to get up close and personal with four generations of a family that continues to live under one roof. http://www.delhimagic.com

Mylapore Walk, Chennai
This walk makes you go through Chennai's cultural hub and one of its oldest areas--Mylapore. The Portuguese arrived on Mylapore's shores in 1523 and left only in 1749, when the British took over. Despite this, the area has retained its incredible temples and the traditions that revolve around them. The walk takes you to the 300-year-old Kapaleeswarar Temple, the epicentre around which Mylapore is built.

Peek into the temple's daily routine, its own schedule--one that is not usually visible to the outside world. Later, walk through the surrounding areas. Learn about life around the temple tank with its myriad chaos of small shops dedicated to everything from jewellery, brassware, silk, puja items, to fruit and vegetable shops. The walk ends with snacks and coffee at the popular Saravana Bhavan. http://www.chennaimagic.com

Matunga Market food walk, Mumbai
Matunga, in central Mumbai, has a vibrant cultural scene, an indication of the various communities living here. The Food Walk takes you through the markets of this area, and gives a peek into the food of the three communities--Tamil Brahmins, Gujaratis and Jains. All the three are vegetarian, but have different customs and rules, which are very much visible in their food.

The tour begins at the Kannika Parameshwari temple where you learn about the history of Hinduism and Buddhism. From there, head to the market area where you'll be introduced to local fruits, vegetables and spices, with an explanation of how they fit into the daily meal.

Discover inventive foods like Khakra Dosa (a plain dosa made very crisp and then dried liked a khakra), Jain Mousse (mousse prepared without egg) and Chocolate Barfi. The combinations are tantalising and designed to please every palate. Do leave some space for authentic aromatic South Indian coffee at the end. http://www.mumbaimagic.com

Moolchand Paranthewala - total paisa vasool

2011-08-28T09:49:00.008+05:30

Every taxi driver in Delhi knows that when night-time hunger pangs hit you, the place to go is Moolchand.

Nondescript thela, favourite night haunt of all truckers, cab drivers, and late night party fiends

Paratha in progress - scalded by fire. The flames go whoosh, and the paratha turns out crisp and brown

The assistant at the back rolls out the parathas and tosses it in one smooth movement, it lands unerringly on the far edge of the pan.

Then the guy with the tongs moves them around. Four or five parathas are usually underway at a time, because there's always demand. The anda-paratha is popular, so there's always a stock of eggs.

Hot parathas stacked, waiting to be handed to a long list of buyers.

Lots of people eat here, but many people come and take-away stuff too.

Usual accompaniment - a simple but delicious raita ladled out in plastic cups

Trademark garnish - fried chillies and chaat masala

We ordered the basic aloo paratha. It arrived so hot that we scalded our fingers. We wolfed it down in seconds.

Absolutely delicious. I'm definitely going back again!

On Independence Day

2011-08-15T10:22:00.005+05:30

The Prime Minister addressed the nation today from the Red Fort. He spoke on many difficult issues facing India today - corruption, education, gender discrimination, agriculture, economic development, and so on.

For me, the most important thing to take away from the speech were simply the last few words:

We should have faith that our democracy, our institutions and our social ideals and values have the capacity to deal with any difficulty. We should all have faith in ourselves. The faith that we can build a promising future for ourselves. The faith, that united we can do the most difficult of tasks. Let us all resolve to build a bright future for our country.

Given the enormity of some of the issues facing the country, this "faith" has become a matter of great difficulty for Indians. In private parties, on facebook and other social forums, I see my friends constantly expressing protest and anger. The primary emotion is NEGATIVE. There is a feeling of victimization, of powerlessness, transforming into frustrated anger.

But I ask all my friends - are you really powerless? Really? There are so many ways - hundreds and hundreds of ways - in which you can make a difference to your country. Go find them! Find those ways, and instead of just sitting at your computer screen and cribbing, go DO something. It's a heck of a lot better use of your energy!

Protest is an important aspect of citizenry. But absolutely nothing is achieved by pulling down an edifice, unless *you* are actively building another one.

A working lunch

2011-08-06T22:32:00.007+05:30

When we feel like a hearty Punjabi lunch, my colleague Ranjeet and I usually end up going to Cosy. It is in Huaz Khas, close to our Shahpur Jat office, and very convenient.

Cosy is a typical value-for-money establishment - dim interiors, basic furniture, standard crockery - that produces excellent mid-priced food. The menu is exactly what you expect; it has all the usual Punjabi suspects! :) As long as you don't stray from the formulaic stuff, you can be sure it will taste good.

I am particularly fond of the 'Cosy Special Paneer', a creamy but spicily rich paneer concoction that draws me to this restaurant again and again. Combined with a crisp missi roti to mop it up, this is the kind of food that never fails to satisfy.

See what I mean by "all the usual Punjabi suspects"? :) :)

On the table you can see the regulation mint chutney, raita, my favourite paneer, golden yellow missi roti, black daal garnished with cream, onions, lemon, and a great biryani. We usually finish off this kind of meal with chaaj, thin buttermilk flavoured with ginger, chillies and coriander.

I like Cosy because it is really unpretentious. They are not infected by 'modern' concepts of smiling customer service - what you'll get is a simple basic greeting (more like a grunt) when you enter the restaurant. Then some guy in an ancient shirt will eventually come around to take your order. No fancy English is spoken here, the only language that works is Hindi.

Usually we have lots of work related things to discuss while we wait for the food. Cozy provides the perfect no-pretense ambiance, really, you can talk as much as you like without worrying about disturbing other diners. Food doesn't take too long to be served, which leads me to think they have an efficient team behind the scenes. The restaurant is usually full around lunch time.

By the time we finish the meal we're in a pretty mellow state, and don't much feel like working. The only solution is to return to the office and have the hot lemon tea that Abhi, our office assistant makes so well !

Photos of Paharganj (and some advice for where to stay in Delhi)

2011-07-30T09:40:00.023+05:30

For tourists on shoe-string budgets, Paharganj is usually the first introduction to India. Often it is a difficult and depressing introduction.

Located conveniently close to the railway station, this area of Delhi is a mess of ramshackle buildings, signalling quite clearly the tourist's arrival into the third world.

Main street area, just outside Delhi Railway station

Street view further ahead

There is a bazaar area near the station, where there are small eateries and many tour operators. This market has had a total make-over, and now houses a smart-looking set of shops that sell everything a tourist needs - inexpensive food, fruits, suitcases, chain padlocks for safety, money purses, toiletries etc. And of course, there are many shops offering hotel, road transport, train and flight ticket booking.

Amrit Kaur Market, with uniform facades in blue and grey

Vaishno Dhaba and Bajaj Hotel, offering pure vegetarian fare

A typical Paharganj scam is to have a signboard that lets tourists think they have walked into a government tourist office. Although frankly, you have to be a very naive tourist to actually believe the hole-in-the-wall shop in this photo is something official :)

Shops with misleading signboards - the usual Paharganj scam

Similarly, this shop below, which is opposite the exit gate of the Railway station, says "Government Authorised", but I wonder what exactly they are authorised for!

I wish the Tourism Department would do a clean sweep one day, and get rid of misleading signboards

Once you move a little away from the station area, you can see lots of lanes which have hotels and guesthouses in them. As far as I can tell, there seems to be no local population in this area, it has only hotel after hotel, and the only people you see are cooks, waiters, doormen, touts and other tourists. There are very few women around either.

This to me is the most depressing aspect of Paharganj - everything and everybody is geared to make money off tourists. If travel is about understanding local culture, the last place on the planet where you will find it is Paharganj, because this area is like an artificial zone that came up just to deal with tourists. You have to develop rhino armor-plating to deal with the insistent touts.

Typical street with hotel after hotel, facing each other.

Rooms are usually small and dingy, and naturally there are no views.

In the middle of this stuff, you sometimes come across "nicer" buildings with higher tariffs. The Ajanta for instance, has a colonial facade and a moustachioed doorman. There is something incongruous about these hotels, actually, because they are located on these small lanes where everything else around them is seedy. My opinion is, if you can afford to pay a little more money, then get out of this area and stay elsewhere (the tripadvisor site has lots of inexpensive little B&Bs where you can stay in nicer areas, I've stayed at several of them myself).

The Ajanta Hotel, which has an amusing 'wannabe' website with an American host introducing the hotel :)

To me actually the most interesting place in Paharganj was this tiny shop, which serves food to the staff who work at the shops and hotels. Here I found a bunch of guys getting on with their daily routine of cutting and chopping onions. They have a make-shift gas burner and by noon, they will have piping hot food ready. I would have liked to come back here at lunch hour to catch real people eating real food, and perhaps I would have heard a couple of interesting stories of migrants to Delhi.

Maa Bhagvati Restaurant, named after the goddess Kali

In spite of Paharganj being what it is, there are still lots of people who stay here. It thrives because it is very convenient for the rail station, and also because there is no other place in Delhi that will give you rooms at Rs 1000 or even less. Another positive aspect is that you get to meet lots of other tourists, backpackers mostly, and there's a sense of community that you get from those interactions. You can trade 'survivor' stories, laugh off your Delhi Belly with other victims, and admire 'veteran' tourists who have met and conquered Paharganj's seedy scams. In fact, these veterans won't stay anywhere else even if they can afford it :)

If you've made up your mind to stay in Paharganj, then I've heard good recommendations for Hotel Cottage Yes Please or Hotel Hari Piorko on the tripadvisor forums, but I haven't been there, so I don't know the tariff. My own pick for an inexpensive hotel would be the Ginger Rail Yatri Niwas, the budget hotel chain of the Taj group. It is located at the Railway Station, and is very convenient if you want to take the morning train to Agra. I've stayed at other Ginger hotels in India and they are smart, inexpensive and safe.

Safari on the Chambal River - weekend getaway from Delhi

2011-07-24T23:18:00.007+05:30

If you enjoy the outdoors and birding, then I would highly recommend spending a night at the Chambal Safari Lodge near Agra.

Motorboats in which you go on the Chambal River

Chambal Safari Lodge. Not luxurious, but very peaceful and gracious.

Our knowledgeable guide knew exactly how to approach wildlife

(without letting the motor scare them off, and he was a good birder as well)

The seats are fortunately not wooden slats :) There is some cushioning!

And the sightings are excellent!

We saw lots and lots of birds, even though we went at the end of the season when the lodge was almost closing up for summer. The last of the winter migrants were still in evidence. My old camera was simply not good enough for anything but the most basic of photos so I've only posted a couple above. I saw my first sighting of the graceful sarus cranes here. The National Chambal Sanctuary includes over 300 species of birds, both resident and migratory. It is home to the rare Indian skimmer, and also the place where you can see the gharial (in the pic above) and crocodiles. We also saw turtles.

Apart from the river safari, the Lodge also organises nature walks, camel safaris, horse safaris, jeep safaris and village visits. They also organise excursions to the nearby Bateshwar temples. I wish I had more time! I would have liked to explore this area in a more relaxed manner.

But really, even if all you have is a weekend, Chambal Safari Lodge is really a lovely way to spend it! There are only a limited number of cottages, this is not a place for someone who wants air-conditioning or 24x7 room service, but it's a great place for all nature lovers. Do read more about all their environment-friendly practices as well as the contributions they are making to eco-sensitive tourism before you visit!

Delhi by Metro tour...good things happening!

2011-07-17T13:36:00.020+05:30

For the past two years, Delhi Magic has been running "Delhi by Metro", an offbeat and fun tour of Old and New Delhi. The tour uses local transport and is a great way to see Delhi through the eyes of young students who are residents of Delhi.

The tour is a unique partnership between us and Manzil, a non-profit that works with young people from non-affluent families. Guides for the tour are students from Manzil.

Deepa Krishnan (Delhi Magic), and Ravi Gulati (founder of Manzil)

The tour has become very popular, and for many visitors to India, it is one of their trip highlights.

Sandra Ghattas loves her solo Delhi by Metro tour.

Like all young women who visit India solo, Sandra was looking for a safe and interesting experience of Delhi. It was the first stop in her Golden Triangle tour. On her very first day, she met Nisha and Asit, who introduced her to the city, took her on a Metro ride, a green auto-rickshaw ride, and a cycle-rickhaw as well. They explored the chaotic and interesting bazaars of Old Delhi (Mughal Delhi) and also the impressive monuments of New Delhi (British Delhi).

Nisha and Asit are among the 10 students who we have trained so far, to become tour guides for the Delhi by Metro tour. Over the past 2 years, we have done over 100 such tours, not just for solo travellers, but also for travel groups made up of family/friends, researchers, teachers, non-profit foundations and so on. What makes me really happy is that the tours have run to high quality, and they have run profitably. Moneys from the tour have benefited not just the guides, but also Manzil as well as Delhi Magic. Tourists have gained an authentic introduction to "real" people in the city and their daily lives, instead of dealing with the usual tourism professionals. And, most important, they've had a load of fun!

My vision for this tour is simple:

I would like the tour to provide a means of income for the guides, so that they can continue their education without financial difficulties.
I would like the guides to learn about their own city's history, share it with tourists from different parts of world, and gain self-confidence and social skills in the process.
If any of these guides want to make a career in tourism, I would like this tour to provide a sort of early training ground, a place where they can take some baby-steps towards financial independence.
Ultimately, I want them to develop full-fledged careers of their own, in their own chosen fields, become fully independent, and fly away from the nest :) That will then make way for fresh batches of guides.

I am very lucky (and happy) that I am able to see this vision come true in such a short span. It is a tribute to the hard work and success of these students that two of them are leaving this year for study programs in the USA. Another fresh batch of students is now being trained to do the tour. Here are photos from my visit to Delhi last week, when I met some of them and gave them the first part of the training orientation:

Sitting in the Delhi Magic office: everyone has been handed their tour scripts

Prep work: Looking through maps and getting familiar with tour routes, reading handouts, registering names and addresses

My talented friend Shilpi will be doing further field-training sessions for these students, taking them through New Delhi and Old Delhi, and demonstrating how the tour is to be done. A compulsive walker, amateur photographer, foodie and tree hugger, Shilpi is a proud ‘Dilliwali’ and loves to take people on offbeat trails around the city. I can't think of anyone better than her to do this training!

Once Shilpi is done with her training, we will put the new guides on a 'buddy-system' where they tag along with the older guides, to see how tours are done. After some experience with it, we'll give them tours of their own to run. I expect that by Oct, this new batch will be ready to try tours on their own.

I am really looking forward to seeing how this new group shapes up.

A little primer on Hindu Literature

2011-06-20T09:56:00.030+05:30

Working in tourism, I meet a lot of people whose religion is enshrined in a Book. The written word is held in great reverence, and the Book has a position of religious and moral authority.

Coming from that kind of background, a lot of tourists naturally ask me "What is the holy book of the Hindus?". Usually I tell them a simplistic answer, for example, I usually say "The four Vedas are the primary books".

But it's not that simple. The Vedas are not really "books", are they? They are ancient oral recitations that were written down much later. The truth is, Hindus don't really have a universally agreed upon single "written" Holy Book. What we do have, is a vast oral as well as written tradition which serves as the source of religious, moral and philosophical knowledge. Combined together, these make up Hindu religious literature.

Most Hindus themselves don't know how this literature is classified, so I wrote this little primer (my mom helped me put this together). I realise the article is somewhat school-bookish :) but this information is surprisingly hard to find.

Hindu scriptures are broadly divided as follows:

The Srutis (Vedas, Brahmanas, Aranyakas, Upanishads):

The Vedas are collections, of hymns, melodies, rituals and incantations. They are considered the primary texts of Hinduism. According to Klaus Kostermaier, a Canadian professor of religious studies, the beginnings of the Vedic ritual can be traced to 6000 BC in Northwest India. The dating is open to controversy.
The Brahmanas are commentaries on the Vedas, explaining the rituals. These were composed in the Brahmanic period (900 BC to 500 BC).
The Aranyakas - literally, forest treatises - are meant for sages living a life of renunciation. Unlike the Brahmanas, which deal with rituals, the Aranyakas deal with the philosophical aspects of the Vedas. The Aranyakas are also from the Brahmanic period.
The Upanishads are mystical contemplations designed to teach the means of liberation from rebirth and suffering. Thus they are also called Vedanta - the end of the Vedas - since they teach the ultimate secret to reach the highest metaphysical state. The oldest of these dates from the Brahmanic period, but some of the recent Upanishads are from the medieval times.

The Smritis (Smritis, Itihasas, Puranas):

There are several Smritis, or Codes of Law, whose authority is based on the standing of the author. The most well known of these is the Manu Smriti, thought to date between 200 BC to 200 CE.
The Itihasas - literally, 'histories' - are older than the Smritis. They include the great epics Ramayana and Mahabharata. The epics were composed between 500 BC to 100 BC.
The Puranas are texts that provide information about the creation of the universe, the genealogies of kings, rules for life, and mythologies of various Gods and holy places. They are thought to date between the 300 CE and 1200 CE.

While the classification of these scriptures is more or less well accepted, their historical dating is controversial. The major languages in which these scriptures appear are Sanskrit in the North, and Tamil in the South. Apart from these, Hindu literature also includes many other treatises - for example, the Sutras are shorter succint versions of Hindism's voluminous primary literature.

The above literature is common to all Hindus. But some Hindu sects have their own sectarian writings - such as the Samhitas of the Vaishnavaites, the Agamas of the Saivaites, and the Tantras of the Saktas.

Because of the huge size of oral literature, as well as the large volume of written texts and explanations, there is no single Book that everyone accepts as gospel truth. Instead, a large body of interpretations has flourished, which vary from place to place within India, allowing for a lot of flexibility in the way you practise Hinduism.

To me, the most amazing thing about Hindu texts is that in spite of the huge volumes, they have been committed to memory by a specialized group of people (Brahmin priests). In case you didn't know, in 2003 UNESCO proclaimed the tradition of Vedic chant a "Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity". Pretty cool huh? :) :)

We don't usually acknowledge or realize it, but we are truly lucky that we can still hear the same chanting of these texts as was heard thousands of years ago. Not many civilizations can claim that. We don't have to go to a religious centre like Varanasi to hear this; or to a grand wedding. We can hear it everywhere in India; even at a smallish family ritual. Here are photos of typically smaller rituals where you can hear Sanskrit chanting:

Kerala Palakkad Brahmin "Bangle ceremony" - to pray for the well-being of the unborn child. In this ceremony, the mother is usually in the seventh month of pregnancy. You can see the holy fire into which ghee is being poured by the father of the child. The priest is reciting a prayer which is repeated by the father. The chanting will go on for a couple of hours, and the sound of the mantras is thought to have a favourable effect on both the mother and the unborn child.

From Mangalore in Karnataka, a Grihapravesham ceremony (housewarming). Again the priest will light a holy fire. The couple whose home it is, are sitting beside the priest. The floor is beautifully decorated with designs using turmeric and red kumkum. The prayers and the smoke will sanctify the house, rid it of insects and pests, and make it fit for a joyful life.

From Pune, Maharashtra: Engagement ceremony. The parents of the bride and the parents of the groom agree to give their daughter/son in marriage. The priest in the centre officiates. Auspicious gifts are exchanged. This is a sort of "contract" read out in the presence of witnesses.

Sanketi Brahmin thread ceremony in Chennai - The young man in the centre is being initiated in "Brahmopadesham" - the Ultimate Truth. His father (on the right) follows instructions from the priest (on the left).

If I hunt through my photo collection, I will find lots more of these...proof that in the daily life of Indians, the old ways continue uninterrupted. Even though we live in a modern world, these rituals and texts provide continuity and emotional sustenance to the people who follow them. I guess this is what characterises "a living religion".

If you're curious about how the Rig Veda sounds when chanted, I suggest you try this link: http://www.vedchant.com/Rig.mp3 It sounds fantastic. After a minute or so, you'll find yourself caught in the rhythm and power of it.

Food walk in Old Delhi (Part 2)

2011-06-05T19:27:00.020+05:30

I've been meaning to write this for a while; a continuation of the earlier Old Delhi food walk I did with my friend Dhruv. Somehow, there just hasn't been enough time to write. But yesterday, I was looking at my album of Old Delhi, and the photos brought it all back to vivid life.

After my morning visit to Dhruv's home, we walked to Chawri Bazaar Metro Station. We spotted this gentleman hard at work, at a little street restaurant near Dehati Pustak Bhandar:

Rolling out a bedmi.

What he is rolling out is a specialty poori called a bedmi, that's typically eaten for breakfast. It's the dough itself that makes the bedmi different from a regular poori. Apart from refined flour, the dough also includes mung dal (soaked and ground), chillies, coriander power and garam masala. So - basically - it's a spicy poori, and the dough has a rough consistency.

Deep frying the bedmi after the oil is hot. It will turn a golden brown soon.

Note the two ladles that he is using? I couldn't figure out why he had one ladle in each hand, until he made his next poori.

The first golden brown bedmi is set to drain while a second puri is added to the oil.

In the morning, there is a big crowd for breakfast; and bedmis are quickly made one after another. That's why they have the two ladles; one to fry, and one to drain. It speeds up things and keeps the bedmi crisp but not too oily.

The bedmis are served hot, with a simple aloo-sabji.

The poori is quite heavy, so by the time I ate one, I was stuffed. Don't forget, I had already earlier been pigging out on gol gappas, kulcha chole and milk cake :)

But Dhruv wasn't about to let me off lightly. In true Dilliwalla style, he said to me, "But you've got to try a nagori halwa!" The nangodi or nagori turned out to be a tiny puri, a little larger than a gol gappa.

Making a little hole in the nagori

You can stuff the nagori with the same aloo-sabzi if you want a savoury bite. But if you prefer something sweet for breakfast, you can stuff it with halwa instead.

Sweet halwa in the nagori

If you want, you can also mix the two tastes, sweet and savoury, by sstuffing with halwa and dipping the nagori into the aloo sabzi as well (not my thing!).

We ended the morning with sweet refreshing tea. I left Old Delhi in a happy state - great food, good company, and to top it all, I clicked lots of interesting photos (material for several more posts, thank you Dhruv!).

Birding trip report: Sultanpur and Basai Wetlands

2011-04-23T08:07:00.016+05:30

Delhi has been unusually cool this year; and even in the last week of March and first week of April, it felt as if summer was far, far away. I therefore decided to make a birding trip to Sultanpur in the hope that some of the winter migrants would still be there. What a great decision it turned out to be!

We left Delhi at 6:00 a.m. with tea in a thermos flask, and biscuits.

About 1.5 hrs from Delhi, just before Sultanpur, we stopped at Basai Wetlands and walked around. The sighting was excellent! In the brief 30 minute visit, we saw so many birds that I kept oohing and aahing and jumping around like a child at a birthday party I almost didn't want to go further to Sultanpur!

I had only my point-and-shoot camera, so I just got some scenery shots and some long-range pics. So please someone else go get some awesome ones and send them to me!:

Basai Wetlands

Here is a list of birds we saw at Basai:

1) Long tailed Shrike

2) Sarus Crane (3 gorgeous cranes)

3) Grey heron

4, 5, 6) Three types of ibis, all in one place, single camera shot, I loved this! We saw the glossy ibis, the black ibis (with the red head and small white patch on shoulder) and the black headed ibis (with the white body)

7) Dunlin in flock - did you know that in this bird the female often deserts the nest and the male looks after the brood?

8) Drongo

9) Either Citrine Wagtail, or Yellow Wagtail, I'm not sure which!

10) White wagtail (what's the right name for this?)

11) Praticole

12) Pied starling

13) Ashy crowned sparrow lark (adorable)

14) Pied bushchat

15) Asian laughing dove

16) Common redshank

17) Spotted sandpiper

18) Common sandpiper

19) Purple swamphen

20) Spot billed duck

21) Black winged stilt

22) Godwit

23) Pied Avocet

24) Marsh harrier (gorgeous big bird, excellent sighting, we saw three of them!)

25) White breasted kingfisher

Most of the waders were in flocks, so the sighting was very good. By this time, we were hungry, so we drove to the Sultanpur sanctuary (another 30 minutes); where we stopped and had an excellent breakfast at the tourist centre. The centre is called "The Rosy Pelican Tourist Complex"; and they served us very good alu-parathas with excellent curd and pickle. They also served very soft bread and butter, and omlettes. The tourist complex has accommodation as well, in case you want to stay overnight. They also offer groups the facility to cook your own meals for a charge. At the restaurant, I went to look for the toilet to wash my hands, and the old man took me to the men's loo because the other one was being repaired Anyway, I decided to "hold it" until return to Delhi!

Like all government complexes, the Rosy Pelican is blessed with a great location and surrounds. It was green and beautiful, perfect for having chai outdoor under the shade of a tree. However, the restaurant was shabby; the old man who served us wore a white shirt and black trousers that had clearly seen better days. The curtains were old looking, the plug points were a joke. Basically I came out feeling like I was in some 1970's movie set - which in some weird way was actually quite a nice experience.

Haryana Tourism board that made me smile

I grinned at this signboard by Haryana Tourism, which tries very hard to prove how amazing and popular this sanctuary is. It says with great earnestness:

Migratory Birds Comes From: Indian Sub-Continental, Central Asia and Europe

Tourist Comes From: USA, England, Russia, China, Swidan, Switzerland, Australia, Taiwan, Nepal, Hong Kong, Malaisia, Indonesia, France, Germany etc.

(he he he he he)

Anyway, fortified by tea and breakfast, we were ready to set off for more.

We walked around the pathway of the sanctuary. Tall trees on both sides gave us good shade, and to our left the water in the wetlands was still there. The park authorities maintain water levels by pumping water into the lake, we saw the pumps merrily at work while we were there. I was glad there was water, because it meant we would have better sighting even late into the season.

Sultanpur Bird Sanctuary

I had to get back to Delhi for meetings, so we spent only about 45 minutes here; but some of the birds we saw are below:

26) Magpie robin

27) Common coot

28) Northern shoveler

29) Comb duck (very interesting looking bird!)

30 ) Greater egret

31) Pond heron

32) Alexandrine parakeet (a tree full of them!)

33) Greater coucal (strutting around as if he owned the whole lake)

34) White breasted water hen

35) Peacock

36) Painted stork (a big group of them, all standing looking very sleepy)

37) Rusty flycatcher

38) Green bee-eater

39) Jungle babblers, doing their usual noisy thing!

40) Spotted owlet (three adorably cute ones, all in one tree but different branches, just inside the Rosy Pelican)

In search of the Indian Courser:

After this, we set out with a hope and a prayer to a village nearby to find the elusive Indian courser. Three of these birds had been spotted a few weeks ago near a farm, but we weren't sure if we could find them. We drove through small but prosperous looking villages, and finally came to a large open farmland area. Here we had to spend nearly 20 minutes hunting for these birds. Instead of the courser, we found red wattled lapwing and the more uncommon yellow wattled lapwing. Then after we almost gave up, we found four coursers in a field. It was my first sighting, and the birds were small, sleek and very graceful. We spent 10 minutes watching them and carefully following them on foot. Finally we returned to our trusty Innova and turned our car homewards to Delhi.

The return journey to Delhi seemed much longer, because of the traffic (although I think it didn't take more than 2.5 hours). Having left Delhi at 6:00 a.m., we were back in Delhi by 1:30 p.m. for lunch, feeling very happy with ourselves.

I can only imagine how lovely this place must be in the winter season. I am quite certain I will go back again if I get the chance. This time, I went with a very poor camera; next time I will fix that!!

Navratras thali at Pandara Road

2011-04-10T20:08:00.035+05:30

The restaurants at Pandara Road have acquired a reputation for serving some of the best butter chicken in Delhi. It's the kind of Punjabi food that is viscerally satisfying - apart from the butter chicken, there are lots of rich creamy gravies, hot naans dripping with butter, soft paneer-saag, and other seasonal Punjabi specialties.

"Havemore" is right! This kind of Punjabi food is hard to resist!

Gulati - another Pandara Road favourite.

I went to Pandara Road this week looking for an artery-clogging Punjabi meal :) But instead of the usual fare, I found a specialty menu on offer at Gulati's.

The Navrata Thali at Gulati

All over India, Vasant/Chaitra Navratri or Navratras is being celebrated; marking the advent of warmer weather. As part of this festival, a special fast is observed for 9 days. Rice and wheat are forbidden; in fact, all grains are forbidden. All meat and seafood is banned. According to religious prescription, only one meal a day is allowed; and simple healthy food such as fruits, vegetables, milk etc are to be had. Even onions and garlic and sea salt are forbidden. I guess the idea is not only to give the digestive system a break; but also to draw attention away from food, towards more spiritual thoughts.

However - like the Indian legal system - there are several loopholes in the scriptural injunctions, and these have been cleverly twisted to suit all those who have no desire to suffer :)

For example, those who can't live without hot rotis and puris have discovered that flour made of sago, buckwheat and water-chestnuts are all allowed. Why? Because these are not grains, you see? Water chestnut is a fruit; so is buckwheat (technically speaking!). And sago is made from tapioca. That makes these flour subsitutes perfectly acceptable during the Navratras "fasting". Similarly, since sea salt is forbidden; the meal is cooked with rock salt, lending it a different taste. Green chillies are a fruit, so they're kosher too. Chillies can therefore be merrily used to produce spicy results; spiritual thoughts be damned! :)

For every fasting "rule" there is a workaround, a sort of cheat code, if you will! It is as if a wicked, but highly determined chef decided that he or she would beat the system. Over the years, with help of several clever chefs and their clever workarounds, a complex cuisine has grown around the restrictions of the Navratras diet.

Since I have never fasted for Navratri, I was curious enough to want to try the Navratri thali. It turned out to be quite a fancy meal!

Thali with 8 different dishes, accompanied by water-chestnut (singhada) puri and buckwheat (kuttu) roti; and a cucumber salad.

At the centre of the thali is a bowl with two dishes served together, which serves as the starting point for the meal. The yellow-coloured stuff is aloo-chaat; the potato was lovely and tangy with rock salt. It was served cold, garnished with coriander. Next to it is a fried dumpling made of sago (sabudana), served piping hot. Nice combo! There's a spicy green chutney that you can eat with this.

The three orangey-red gravies were pretty good too - one of them is pumpkin, the other is paneer, and the third is a kind of dal that I couldn't quite figure out. All three were cooked without onions or garlic, but they were quite tasty.

Lastly, the three white bowls - they had:

a) sago kheer

b) sago pulao (flavoured with cumin and green chilli) and

c) yoghurt raita with rock salt.

I loved the raita, and the pulao was pretty good too. I tasted the kheer, it was light and nice, but I didn't have much of an appetite really.

Buttermilk to finish off the meal

There was a glass of cold buttermilk, also seasoned with cumin and coriander, to round off the meal nicely. So instead of the kheer, I stuck to buttermilk.

For me, the most interesting part of this meal was discovering kuttu, or buckwheat. I had never seen buckwheat before. It is grown mostly in the hilly regions of North India.

Buckwheat roti (the black coloured stuff)

The buckwheat fruit has a single seed, sitting inside a hard outer skull. The skull may be green or dark brown, which is what makes the kuttu roti blackish looking. The buckwheat roti tastes nothing like a wheat roti. It is kinda starchy, and it has been cooked with a lot of ghee, so it is heavy as well.

As we walked out of the restaurant, I wondered why or how this nine-day Navratri fast originated. In the month of Chaitra (April), the season changes. The hotter summer days begin. Maybe it originated as a way to get the body acclimatised to the weather change? If anyone knows the answer, or has a better guess, please let me know. Meanwhile, if you want to taste this thali, head to Pandara Road!

Delhi watches cricket

2011-04-02T21:55:00.008+05:30

World Cup fever has completely taken over. Everywhere I went, the only thing people were talking about was the game, the game, the game.

Overheard at Defence Colony: A debate about where to watch the match. I think they went to Adderwaza finally.

Drivers and guards at Dilli Haat: Deeply thankful that the memsahibs are taking a lot of time over shopping!

Brisk sales at the booze shop at SDA Market. Check out the number of cases and cartons lying around!

Post script: Aaaaaaaaaand the boys in blue have brought home the World Cup! The whole country is going to be partying now.

Food walk in Old Delhi

2011-03-26T07:59:00.013+05:30

My friend Dhruv took me on the most amazing food walk in Sitaram Bazaar. This area is full of shops owned by Hindu Banias; the street food here is vegetarian and fantastic.

We started off with Dhurv's favourite gol-gappa-walla near Chawri Bazaar Metro Station.

I knew I should go slow and eat very little (so as to save space for more later) but it was too tempting!

After the gol-gappas came the most amazing kulcha-chole; just a little further down.

The chole was hot from the brass pot; and garnished with chaat masala, onions, ginger, chillies, coriander and lemon.

Finger-licking good! My tastebuds were tingling with the tartness of the lemon, combined with the spicy chola, and the tang of the chaat masala. The kulchas - soft bread made of maida - help temper down the spiciness of the dish. I swear this is the tastiest thing I have ever eaten in Delhi.

After the spiciness of the chola, Dhruv introduced me to the delights of brown milk cake.

The old man is a daily fixture in Dhruv's lane; stirring milk and sugar and ghee into a thick delight.

This cake had a chewy rich goodness that sent me on a delirious high. I started out saying "But I can't eat all this by myself"; and shared it with others, but then I tasted it, and ended up wishing for more!

This was not all - there was more - bedmi puri, aloo sabzi, nagori halwa...which I had never eaten before. But it's getting late right now, so I better finish this story here. I'll post again, with Part 2 of the walk, and more photos!

The Trishul

2011-03-05T09:28:00.031+05:30

Have you seen the giant Shiva statue at Murudeshwar Beach? My school friend Preeti clicked this arresting photo with the sun in the background:

This is the second largest statue of Shiva in the world, all of 123 feet tall.

Whenever I hear that something is the "second largest", I always wonder "Which is the largest, then?" :) :) In case you're wondering too, the world's largest Shiva statue is in Nepal, and it is a standing Shiva, not a seated one. The Nepal statue is a more chubby-cheeked smiling god. Take a look. I think it is quite an unsuitable depiction of this charismatic ascetic! The Murudeshwar statue somehow seems more impressive, don't you think?

In both statues, in his right hand, Shiva holds the Trishul, his trident.

It's hard to miss the trident when you visit any part of India. Especially if you go on a pilgrimage circuit, you will see the trishul just about everywhere.

I found this maker of tridents in a little shop in Jaipur

At the Delhi Crafts Museum, there's this interesting collection of decorative spears and tridents (looks like it came from South India, not sure from where)

Lingaraja Temple, Bhubaneswar. This is one of the few temples where Vishnu and Shiva are both worshipped. At the entrance, there is a painting of the two Gods merged into one. Shiva is identified by his Trident, and Vishnu by his Mace and Discus.

But it's not Shiva alone who lays claim to the trishul; it is also the weapon of the great Goddess in her many forms.

Mithila painting of the many-armed Goddess Durga. She holds several weapons, but no Durga rendition is complete without the trident.

Paan-wallah in Agra - this is the most popular representation of Goddess Durga; you see this in little shops everywhere in the country

"Eunuch temple" in Mumbai; trident of the Goddess Mariamman, who is said to cure people of the pox.

So the trishul is everywhere, and clearly it has huge symbolic value. I looked up some websites and blogs dedicated to Shiva, and they have a set of complex explanations for what the trishul represents. I didn't really know any of that stuff earlier; and I don't know whether this is even correct. If you have a deeper understanding, and can point me at the right sourcebook, let me know.

Meanwhile, I'll continue to look for interesting tridents to add to my collection of photos!

On Aesthetics

2011-02-20T20:53:00.009+05:30

There are some days when I have this intense desire to paint or draw. I desperately want to put pen and brush to paper; I want to watch bold black strokes darken and take shape. I want to drench the paper with colour, watch it spread and deepen. I want to forget the world outside, and live inside that canvas, in a private world of my very own aesthetics.

So what's holding me back from doing this? It's those twin T's, of course - Talent and Time. One isn't good without the other, right?

Do I have talent? I don't know. I will never know, unless I give it the time it needs. Do I have time? No. There's too much going on in my life. I've looked at my days, tried to find a couple of hours to spare...but I'm already overstretched.

So - since I'm a practical person - I've decided to set aside my desire to paint, until the time is right.

Meanwhile, I will surround myself with beauty.

It is easy enough to do that. There is beauty everywhere, if you just choose to look. Beauty in art, architecture, music, plants, forests, animals, daily life.

Beautiful door at the Crafts Museum

Bangles at Kinari Bazaar

All I have to do, is to absorb the form and colour and motion I see around me, and carry that around in my head. I'll have my own little beautiful world, then, won't I?

The Indian Water Buffalo - A Tale from my childhood

2011-01-30T07:17:00.039+05:30

When I was 10 years old, I read an amusing Marathi folk tale. It was about a man who left his home in a huff after a quarrel with his wife. When evening came, he regretted his rash action, but couldn't bring himself to go back and say sorry. Besides, too many of his neighbours had seen him walk off swearing never to return. He would become a laughing-stock if he returned meekly.

But he badly wanted to go back home for dinner, especially since his empty stomach now reminded him of his wife's lovely cooking. Desperate, he looked around, and spotted one of their buffaloes returning home unescorted after the day's grazing.

So he grabbed the buffalo's tail and went back home behind it, pretending the buffalo was dragging him back against his wish.

As he went, he sang a rhyme loudly: "Aga Aga Mahshi, Mala Kuthe Nehshi?!" (Oh, Oh, my buffalo, where are you dragging me?!).

He sang loud enough for the neighbours to hear :) When he reached home, his wife, wise woman that she was, smiled to herself at the hilarious sight, but welcomed him and gave him dinner. And that was the end of their fight.

Even today, every time I see a buffalo, this story brings a grin to my face.

Aga Aga Mahshi, Mala Kuthe Nehshi!

Buffaloes are a big deal in India. I was looking at the National Dairy Board figures, and we seem to have an astounding 100 million buffaloes. That's one buffalo for every 10 Indians!

We have a lot of cows as well; in fact the cattle population is nearly double that of buffaloes. But the buffalo population has been growing far faster.

While buffalo numbers have grown by 130% in the last 50 years, cattle population has grown by only 15-20%. The trend is sharper in more recent years. Clearly, buffaloes are fast becoming the animal of choice in the Indian dairy industry.

Why is this happening? Simple. The buffalo offers the most reward for the least cost and effort.

Firstly, the buffalo is hardier, and survives better under poor fodder and poor management conditions.

Skinny buffaloes in a dry village near Dausa, Rajasthan.

In this village home that I visited, there was no feedstock anywhere in sight; and grass was scarce. The buffaloes were skinny, and some had skin infections, but they still yielded milk. These buffaloes were still the biggest source of that family's income, and I'm guessing they made a big contribution to the family nutrition levels.

A buffalo yields richer milk than a cow (typically, buffalo milk has twice the amount of butterfat than cow's milk). The milk therefore fetches better prices. Buffalo milk is whiter, and better suited for the manufacture of milk powder. Traditional paneer cheese made from buffalo milk is better. Buffaloes can be used in agriculture for tilling, and also as a source of meat.

With the start of Operation Flood in the 1970's (specially the second phase of the program in the 80's), there has also been infrastructural support from the Indian government for buffaloes. Feedstock availability has been improved, veterinary services made available, and, most important, a stable, self-sustaining distribution channel has been established for buffalo milk. Both cows and buffaloes form part of the staggering 73,000 village co-operatives that produce milk for sale; supplying over 300 towns and cities. Each co-operative is made up of multiple small producers, allowing rural as well as semi-rural families (like the one below) to prosper.

This family near Agra had four fat female buffaloes with three calves.

The children of this family looked well-fed and healthy. Obviously, the milk was for sale, and not just personal consumption. I could not stop and check if the milk was being sold to a co-operative. But since this home is not far from Delhi, I assumed the milk would probably end up there.

There are several breeds of buffalo in India; but the champion milk producer is the Murrah. You'll see the Murrah in Delhi, because it is native to Haryana (adjacent to Delhi). It's really easy to identify this champion - the horns are small, upwards, backwards and tightly curved inward at the end.

Haryanvi Milk Goddess :)

The tail of the Murrah often has a white switch at the end; and that's an easy identifier too (although you can't see it in this photo). There's a very nice page here, managed by Central Institute for Research on Buffaloes, that describes all the buffalo breeds in different parts of India. As you can see, they're each quite different; and some of them look very fancy! I'm going to click buffalo photos now, whenever I travel through the country!

All this milk-talk has suddenly set up a craving in me for paneer. Thick, creamy, soft, paneer... I'm thinking we'll try palak-paneer tonight! You're invited :)

In which I learn about paring toenails

2011-01-02T21:06:00.025+05:30

On facebook, a friend posted this photo, which explains the right way for a devout Muslim to trim their nails.

Toe nails are easy. You start with the smallest one on the right foot, then work your way in an arc towards the smallest one on your left foot.

Fingernails are a little more complicated. For some reason, you do four fingers of the right hand in one arc, then four fingers of the left hand (but starting with a different finger), and then finally the thumbs (see photo above for better understanding; the fingers have been helpfully numbered in the right sequence).

As if this elaborate sequencing isn't enough, there's also a recommended frequency of nail paring (not more than 40 days between trimmings), a recommended disposal method (burial) and several other injunctions (for example, you can't wear nail polish, but you can put henna on nails and make them orange).

I then looked up a Jewish resource site, to find out what they had to say about nails. As it turned out, the Jewish way is equally specific. There are rules for the frequency with which nails should be cut (every week, or once in two weeks). There are days on which nails should not be cut (Thursdays). There's a recommended sequence (adjacent fingernails can't be trimmed one after another). There's also another rule that says you can't clip fingernails and toenails on the same day.

Both religions say that it is important to dispose of or destroy nail clippings. I think it stems from this old underlying belief that nails have "power" of some sort, and if you leave them lying around, someone can cast a a spell on you or do you harm.

I then looked up Hinduism and Christianity on the subject of nails. In Hinduism, I found that there isn't much other than an injunction not to cut nails after dark (I found lots of complicated rules about haircuts and tonsuring, and a total obsession with bathing!). Christianity doesn't seem to have anything much to say on the subject of nail cutting at all (or bathing, or haircuts or any other form of personal hygiene). Or maybe I just didn't look hard enough.

The more I read, the more I wanted to smile, especially when I laid all the "rules" side by side. They were all written in earnest religious tones; and each writer seemed convinced that they had got it right.

Actually, some of this stuff may have been right at the time it was written - for example, not cutting nails after dark was probably sensible in the pre-electricity era. Not leaving nails lying around is definitely sensible, no matter what era you are in.

But not all the rules make sense today. By and large, I find that the elaborateness of religious ritual borders on the absurd.

I have never had much patience with it; primarily because I grew up without any customary daily prayers or weekly fasts or what have you. I agree that rituals do have their uses. Having set patterns for things can aid in calming the mind. But hello? the "right" sequence for paring toenails? What were they thinking? :) :)

Hanuman Mandir, Delhi

2010-12-25T20:51:00.035+05:30

Among the most popular temples in Delhi is this one - Hanuman Mandir, dedicated to the monkey god.

As temples go, I find this structure pretty ugly. Look at the incongruous metal and cement structures jutting out from the temple. They are an aesthetic disaster in architectural style and materials. There's a ramshackle plastic-sheet covered structure in the right foreground; not to mention several others to the left of the temple. An electricity tower on the right, and a crooked signboard, detract further from the serene feeling that a temple should evoke. In the photo below, clicked from a different angle, there's also an ugly building on the left with the clothes hanging out to dry.

These photos are clicked during the afternoon, when the temple is closed. If you go during temple hours, the place is crowded and chaotic. Combined with the ugliness of the buildings, I find that Hanuman Mandir has none of the spirituality that I want from a place of worship.

When you look at the astounding beauty of India's older temples, I wonder how we ended up with this kind of ugliness. It's not just Delhi - this is the sort of mess you see all over the country, whether it is Mathura-Brindavan, Haridwar, or Varanasi.

I am tempted to put forth a thesis here - that as long as we were building with stone and wood, and basing our construction on the shilpa-shastras, our aesthetics were exemplary. But when modern materials came our way - cement and glass and plastic - and when we stepped out of proven architectural guidelines, we started to produce extraordinarily ugly and depressing structures.

If you go back to the first photo in this article, you'll see that behind the horrible red and green facade, the temple itself looks nice, because, thank God, it's built largely based on traditional architecture.

So - should temples be static? Should temple design continue to reflect old practices, with no "modernisation"? When you look at the newly built Akshardham, you're tempted to say yes. Akshardham is stunningly beautiful, because the architecture is traditional, and it is executed in traditional materials.

But then again, if you look at the Baha'i Lotus Temple, you'll see that the design is undoubtedly modern, and so are the materials, but the end effect is of serenity and peace.

What this tells me, then, is that it doesn't really matter whether temple architecture is old or modern, Western or Indian. What matters is whether the architecture is coherent or not. What matters is that the people who build and run temples pay attention to aesthetics, or at least, understand better, the relationship between aesthetics and spirituality. Our sages understood this very well, building their retreats and hermitages in places of natural beauty. Kings and emperors built temples on hilltops, set amongst greenery. Even large temples complexes inside cities were beautiful, because they were walled enclosures, that created a spiritual haven inside.

Today, temple trusts all over India lack this sort of attention to beauty. As temples become more popular, their trusts, with a view to creating new amenities, or adding new admin blocs, play havoc with the structural composition of the original temple. Contracts are awarded to local builders, and I am sure there is a lot of graft. The end result is a hotch-potch of downright ugly structures.

Fortunately for temple authorities, the public doesn't care about beauty or cleanliness. People throng routinely to the dirtiest of temples, because they believe in the power of the specific God that supposedly resides there. The area outside Hanuman Mandir, for instance, is home to several beggars and wastrels. Partly-eaten food from roadside stalls is strewn about. There are street dogs, mendicants, astrologers, henna vendors, and stalls selling religious kitsch. It's more like a mela or marketplace than a temple. But that doesn't stop the long queues at the temple, especially on Tuesdays and Saturdays, which are popular days for worship of Hanuman.

Temple timings:

Saturdays: Between 5:00 a.m. and midnight

Tuesdays: Between 5:00 a.m. and 11:00 p.m.

Other days of the week: 5:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m., and 3:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m.

If you plan to visit the temple on a Tuesday or a Saturday, be prepared for a long wait. And when you get to the sanctum for darshan, add a little prayer that some day, our temples become places of beauty once again.

Dehati Pustak Bhandar in Old Delhi

2010-12-04T20:25:00.032+05:30

If you walk along Chawri Bazaar, then you can't miss this corner bookshop: Dehati Pustak Bhandar.

They're more than just a bookshop, really. Dehati Pustak Bhandar (DBP) is among Delhi's most well-known Hindi publishing houses. They also produce books in English.

Busy mid-morning at Dehati Pustak Bhandar

When I passed by the shop, they were doing brisk business. Several people were crowding with lists of orders, and the sales staff were busy hunting up books.

DPB is nearly 75 years old. The owners are Aggarwals, one of India's traditional business communities. As a first-generation entrepreneur, I admire any family-owned business that can survive for seven decades. It tells me not only that the baton is being passed successfully from one generation to the next; but also that each generation is evolving to keep the business in synch with their times.

In the publishing business, with changing customer tastes, I'm sure things can't be easy. But DBP seems to have got it right. At the heart of their business is the huge lower-middle class Hindi speaking populace; for whom they produce not just text books and technical literature, but also religious stuff, detective novels and everything else under the sun.

The primary sales are from technical books. Many of these are useful "How to" books in Hindi, teaching various skills, from welding to repairing tractors to wielding a lathe. Some of these are used as textbooks by those studying for diplomas in engineering. They are not expensive; and prices start at as low as Rs 30, and go up to Rs 300 for some of the fat books.

Three books that each train you for a specific trade

Here's a look at some other interesting books that caught my eye:

Cool stuff, huh? I love the cover design of the gemstones book; it reminds me of old Bollywood posters.

Clearly all these books are designed (and priced) with a specific audience in mind. I'm not sure how their English-language books are faring; but it's obvious that they're taking their skills at producing low-priced Hindi books, and using it to also mop-up the cost conscious segment of English readers. It's good to find a publishing company that knows what it's doing.

Life in Delhi under the Last Mughal

2010-10-18T06:18:00.055+05:30

I have been reading Dalrymple again; in particular his description of Delhi in the mid-1800's. What an interesting period it was!

During the reign of the last Mughal Emperor, Bahadur Shah Zafar, Delhi was a city of learning and arts; there was patronage for poetry and painting, great colleges flourished.

But to me, the most interesting feature is that under Zafar, the citizens of Delhi, both Hindus and Muslims, seem to have lived a life without undue religious coercion and fear.

Upper class Hindus, says Dalrymple "went to the Sufi shrine of Nizamuddin, could quote Hafiz, and were fond of Persian poetry". Hindu children from the administrative Khatri and Kayastha classes studied under maulvis. Among the most popular local festivals was the Sair-e-Gul Faroshan (Phoolwalon ki Sair), a festival where Mughal royalty made offerings at both a popular dargah and a temple in Mehrauli.

For many generations, the Mughals had married Hindus; Bahadur Shah Zafar himself had a Rajput mother. He had a team of Hindu astrologers who advised him on many matters; and he followed the old Mughal custom (borrowed from Hinduism) of drinking only water from the Ganges. The Hindu festivals of Holi and Dussera were celebrated in the Red Fort; the burning of the Ravan effigy in the city during Dussera was watched by the Emperor himself.

I do not quite know how to describe this sort of life; a sort of fluid co-mingling of religions. I do not want to use clichés about "harmonious" Hindu-Muslim relationships...in reality, the two communities led distinct and separate lives, but there was a meeting and coming together; some for fleeting moments and some for longer intervals.

It reminds me of my school biology lessons, where we drew shapes of cell fusion. Maybe that's the best way to describe life in Delhi in those days. Cell A and Cell B lived together, each maintaining a separate identity. But there were meeting points. Some meeting points, like the bazaars, were physical places, where communities interacted. Some were events and festivals, where the populace came together to celebrate something or pray for similar boons. For a short while, then, at these points of contact, there was fusion, and then the cells went back to their original separate state.

But eventually, the two cells started resembling each other in many ways. In matters of food, fashion and clothing, architecture, and ornamentation, there was a great mingling of cultures. Muslim women pierced their noses, after the fashion of Hindus. Muslims lit diyas on the tombs of saints, a practice followed in Hindu temples. They sang songs at shrines, and consulted Hindu holy men and astrologers. Although there was a core that would never change (and even today, these cores remain different), there was definitely a lot of fluidity and intermingling.

This tolerant state of affairs continued with the support of the Emperor, but in parallel, there were also other less liberal influences. A more orthodox form of Sunni Islam, supported by rich Muslim businessmen from the Punjab, had taken root in Delhi.

This version of Islam had found its way into Delhi in the 1700's under Shah Wali Allah; and was propagated further by his sons. Shah Wali Allah was born at a time when the Mughal empire was in a state of political decline; and he believed that this was because the court had become corrupt and debauched (and certainly anyone looking at the pleasure loving folks that ran the Mughal Empire could be excused for thinking so!).

Shah Wali Allah believed that Muslim downfall was because people had stopped adhering to the pure tenets of Islam. So he advocated a simpler, purer life, a "Return to the Koran", so to speak. He translated the Koran into Persian to facilitate its understanding among all the Muslims of India (this is believed to be the first complete translation of the Koran from the Arabic by an Indian Muslim scholar).

By the mid-1800's Shah Wali Allah's brand of Sunni Islam was firmly entrenched in Delhi, and it was directly in conflict with Bahadur Shah Zafar's brand of Sufism.

And then - setting fire to the tinderbox, perhaps - in the 1840's and 1850's, a new breed of pious Evangelicals descended upon India. In Delhi, they were represented by the zealous Padre Jennings (an unpopular man by all accounts). He arrived in Delhi in 1852, full of religious bigotry, and famously declared that he would spare no efforts to spread the Christian faith. "A strong attack must be made somewhere," he said, "and I hope we shall see it made here".

For the first few months, he made no headway, but then the first conversions began, and it created ripples of alarm in the Sunni circles. Earlier, the officers of the British East India Company had freely mixed with the Mughal courtiers, and several had married Muslim women. They spoke fluent Hindustani, some spoke Persian as well; and they had close relationships with their sepoys. But the new breed of Company servants were influenced by the Evangelical brand of fanaticism; and soon began to veer away from all ties with "heathens", severing the close relationships they had with their own troops and sepoys.

St. James Church, where the first baptisms took place in Delhi under Padre Jennings

Thus the stage was set for a clash between not just Christianity and Islam in India; but also between the Company Sarkar and its Hindu sepoys, leading to the great uprising of 1857, and the end of the Mughal dynasty. In 1858, the British razed the Al Rahimia madrasa of Shah Wali Allah to the ground, bent on stamping out every trace of it.

But from the ashes of that fire rose the Deobandi movement, formed in 1867. It is an orthodox and strict interpretation of Islam, which continues to influence life in India and Pakistan. The Deobandi branches of Pakistan have traditionally been the hotspots for the jihadi movement; and many of the Afghan Taliban have been schooled in Deobandi madrasas.

And so, the death of the last Mughal ruler was not just the death of an empire, but also of state patronage for a more pacifist, liberal, tolerant form of Islam. More's the pity, I say.

Fortunately, even without state patronage, Sufism is alive and kicking. The powerful mystic call of Sufism remains a common thread that unites Indians and Pakistanis; and can be seen in the many popular Sufi shrines that dot both countries.

Quwwals still sing at Nizamuddin Dargah, which Bahadur Shah Zafar visited often

Here, in these shrines, the sound of music continues to resonate, and the faithful of all religions continue to flock to seek blessings. If you want to hear a fantastic example of the songs of the Sufis, you must listen to the maestro Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. Here is one of his live performances; the music is uplifting and appeals across all borders.

After the Games - the slums of Delhi

2010-09-26T18:59:00.049+05:30

The Delhi Commons Website has this humorous (and very apt) badge illustrating the state of Delhi in the lead-up to the Commonwealth Games.

Anyone who has experienced the city's nightmarish traffic and dug-up roads for the past few years will tell you how very well this sketch represents what's happened in Delhi. Now that the games are upon us, I can only pray this effort was worth it.

To build all this infrastructure, over 400,000 migrant workers have made the capital their home (see photo series here). No one really knows what will become of these workers once the games are over. Some will go back, no doubt, to their villages. But I'm guessing many will stay back, adding to Delhi's slum population.

The exact size of Delhi's slum population is a bit of a hit-and-miss guess. Of the total population of about 20 million (National Capital Region), there's one scary estimate that says 52% live in slums. Another estimate says that Delhi's slum population is growing at a rate which is 4.5 times that of its non-slum population.

If this continues - with large scale additions such as the Games - we are soon going to see a city that is mostly slums.

Delhi Settlements Classification: Source Economic Survey of Delhi: 2001-2002

This table shows both slum as well as non-slum settlements in Delhi.

According to this table above, slums made up half of Delhi's population 10 years ago, and I can only imagine that it has gotten worse since then.

Delhi's slums are not a homogenous mass. Researchers, writers and government departments recognise that Delhi's slums are of different types:

Jhuggi/Jhopri settlements - these account for the bulk of the slums in Delhi; they are illegal squatters on public or private land. The primary characteristic is that the houses are makeshift and 'kutcha', since they have no land rights and constantly fear eviction. Unlike Mumbai, where there are dense slum clusters like Dharavi, Delhi's jhuggi clusters are widely dispersed, and can be found near railways tracks, nullahs/streams, parks, river banks, and some roads. The typical squatter settlement has about 100 families; larger ones have upto 300. They are often organised along caste/community affiliations.

Slum designated areas - Many of these are 'katras' in the walled city (Shahjahanabad, Old Delhi). The walled city was designed to hold 60,000 people, but it holds several times that number. These areas have been specifically notified under the Slum Areas Improvement and Clearance Act.

Urban and Rural Villages - Delhi has several such zones; places that started out as villages but have gotten absorbed into the city as the limits of the city have grown. I have classified these under slums because conditions here are slum-like, with low incomes, poor access to water and sanitation, as well as low literacy levels. There are 135 such villages in Delhi; but not all are poor. The photo below is from Khirki Village, where this family lives in a broken down structure that is a remnant of a village home.

Resettlement colonies - these are slum dwellers who have been resettled from their original location to new approved locations such as Trilokpuri, Kalyanpuri, Kichripur etc. Resettlement began in 1961 in Delhi. Earlier, it was easy to resettle slums, because prior to 1970, there were only about 40,000 slum households to be resettled. As the city's slum population has grown, resettlement has become impossible. But the existing resettlement colonies have better access to infrastructure than the slums; and with land rights secured, they have invested in improving their living conditions.

So much for the slums. Apart from slums, we have two more classifications that are very interesting:

Unauthorised Colonies - These are not really slums, but they are illegal all the same. There are nearly 1700 colonies where agricultural or forest land has been grabbed illegally; and houses constructed and sold. Typically there is a mafia at work, which is in cahoots with the police and the authorities. These colonies create an unregulated demand for water and power; often borewells are illegally constructed and water tables in the adjoining areas are depleted. There's a whole section of the Delhi Department of Urban Development devoted to managing these colonies.

Authorised Unauthorised Colonies - Several of the unauthorised colonies have now been "regularised" in populist moves, leading to this funny-sounding new category.

And then, *finally* we come to the Planned Colonies, which form about 25% of Delhi's population. This 25% then, represents the people of Delhi who live in places other than slums, urban/rural villages and illegal constructions. This 25% is made up of all the government babus, the middle and upper-middle class, as well as those living in upscale bungalows and big condominium apartments.

Scary, huh? To think that 75% of the city is either in a slum or in some other form of badly provisioned or illegal habitation? In all the "prettification" and "world-class-ification" leading up to the Games, this is a very sobering thought.

Let there be light

2010-09-12T11:31:00.048+05:30

Living in a city, I take electricity for granted. City roads are brightly lit at night, restaurants are packed with smiling diners, traffic moves busily, and headlights cast shining beams everywhere.

I don't think about "light".

It's just there.

But last month, I spent a night at a desert "dhaani" - a small hamlet, with no electricity. When the sun went down, I realised I was in a completely different world.

Gemar Singh's dhani. No electric poles, no wires anywhere.

See the small solar panel sticking out at the top? It provides just enough to power his cell phones and computer, and to charge the batteries of his 3-4 lanterns. His neighbours are simpler folks, but Gemar - who runs a travel company and a homestay - has learned to harness technology. Unfortunately, the solar panels aren't powerful enough to provide more light than the small lanterns.

Cooking while there's still daylight

We got to the dhaani by 4:00 p.m. After tea, we began preparations for dinner while there was still daylight. We cooked using water frugally - I think we must have used about two litres of water in all, including washing vegetables, cleaning the utensils before cooking, etc.

Spending just an hour with a family in the desert teaches you the value of water like nothing else can. My daughter's school keeps running campaigns to teach schoolchildren to turn off taps at home...but really, what every city dweller needs is to go spend a night in the desert. You'll come back changed.

In Gemar's dhaani, there are no government-laid pipes that bring water. Instead, he arranges for water to be brought on camel carts whenever supplies run low. The water is free, but he pays for it to be transported. Gemar stores the water in a covered underground tank that he has built. Why underground? To prevent evaporation, of course.

As we cooked, the light started to fade.

Rawal Singh, Gemar's little boy (who was also Commander-in-Chief of Potatoes!), ran in and out of the kitchen all through the evening. At the door to the kitchen, you can see the slop pail. Water that we used to wash vegetables and dishes was poured into the pail. Later, this water is not wasted, but is given to livestock, or used to water plants.

Glorious sunset

With the last bits of light going, darkness descended inside our little cooking hut. Meanwhile, we had reached the final stage, the making of rotis. For this part, we switched from the gas stove to a traditional firewood oven.

Cooking on a traditional firewood "choolha"

The choolha was lit with firewood collected from the surrounding countryside. One large piece of wood provided the basic heat, while smaller sticks were fed from time to time to raise the heat whenever the flames went low. Firewood cooking produces fantastic food, but it also creates a lot of heat and smoke. Much has been written about the potential health fallouts of long exposure to wood smoke inside kitchens.

Gemar Singh sitting in the courtyard outside the kitchen.

By this time, it had become really dark both outside and inside; and I could no longer photograph anything without the flash on my camera. We ate in the courtyard under the moon, a simple, delicious meal, made all the more tasty because I had participated and watched the cooking. Later, Gemar brought out the desserts - the goodies he bought from Jodhpur - and we ended the meal with sweet memories.

And then it was time to sleep - the day ends early when there is no electricity! No television, laptops, no other distracting gadgets - so my husband and I just admired the stars, sent up thanks for the lovely cool breeze, and went to bed.

Little yellow lantern in our hut. Life-saver in the dark!

When morning came, I pushed open the door and stepped out into the daylight. I actually smiled when I saw the sun, and said to my husband, hey, daylight's here, let's make the most of it! And we set off early to see the nearby sand dunes. I tell you, I won't take light for granted any time soon :)

Sand dunes near Gemar's house at 7:30 a.m.

If you would like to visit this part of Rajasthan, and stay with Gemar Singh, please let me know. He runs a sustainable tourism initiative that supports local communities, and it is a great way to understand desert life. He's roped in a local team of cameleers, and they also organise camping. You can choose to stay in a hut like we did (I slept outside the hut for part of the night, under the stars), or camp out in a tent at the nearby dunes.

I discover a world of anklets and toe rings

2010-08-29T09:45:00.014+05:30

I'm just back from another trip to Rajasthan, and I've brought back some keepsakes - silver toe rings and a chunky silver anklet. I bought them from the airport shop in Jodhpur. Stupid, I know, because everyone knows an airport shop is overpriced. But they were irresistible, you know?

You see, all through my two Rajasthan trips this month - and through previous trips - I have been looking at the local women and their feet. And their anklets have me completely mesmerised.

Like this Rabari woman, so confidently striding past me with her camels. On her feet she wore torn canvas shoes; but above them were solid anklets of silver. Two anklets on each foot, with a solid-sounding clink.

And check out these women at the "haunted" town of Bhangarh - the older woman wore a thick anklet that was welded together, she said they would never come off as long as she lived. I have never seen toe rings like the ones she wore either, they were on her big toe.

More recently, I found these cute small toe rings peeping from under the skirt of this lady near Osiyan.

At Rohet, I met this Bishnoi elderly woman, with a weather-beaten anklet.

Even the little girls have anklets on their feet. This pair of sisters are from a shepherd's family near Jodhpur.

On the highway from Delhi to Agra, at the restroom of Maharaja restaurant, this sweeper woman had jingling anklets, and shiny toe rings.

Close-up of her feet. They say the French woman announces herself with perfume. The Indian woman, you can hear her presence before you see her.

And check out this woman with the red skirt at the Clock Tower market in Jodhpur. See the anklet on that jaunty foot?

With all that silver around me, clinking and jingling, how on earth was I to resist ? I gave in, and I have to say, I'm delighted with the results.

This little bit of Rajasthan is going to stay with me, folks!

I learn about the Trees of Delhi

2010-08-08T16:11:00.027+05:30

Every time I drive past the shady avenues of Lutyens Delhi, I look at the trees lining the roads, and wonder what they are.

Are they local trees, native to Delhi, planted in straight lines along the avenues when Imperial Delhi was created? Or have they been imported from elsewhere? When do they flower? How are they pollinated? What happens to the fruit? A zillion questions; and no answers!

This week, by some blessed chance, I spotted this book at an airport bookshop. Pradip Krishen's "Trees of Delhi" - a fantastic 360-page book of the most interesting tidbits and trivia. I am now a fan.

I discovered, through this book, that the trees in Delhi have wonderfully evocative names. In fact, they're lovely enough to invent an entirely new alphabet string for Delhi's schoolchildren!

A for the golden Amaltas
B for Lord Shiva's favourite Bael
C for the maple-like Chinar
D for the showy orange Dhak...

Ah, when am I going to learn all of them? But I'm determined to make a start! So here's where I'm beginning - with the big line of trees all along Rajpath and India Gate. Quite a fitting start, don't you think?

These beautiful dense green trees are rai-jamun (R for the blessedly tart Rai-Jamun! There! One letter done!).

Wondering what a rai-jamun is? It's a tree from the myrtle family, a species of flowering trees that grow widely around the world, primarily in Asia and Australia. It is evergreen in nature, which might explain why this sort of tree was chosen by the city planners to line this important road. If a deciduous tree had been chosen, it would shed its leaves in the scorching hot Delhi summers, you see? That would not have suited the British planners of Imperial Delhi, who definitely wanted a very green Delhi.

Here's a report from Captain George Swinton, Chairman of the Town Planning Committee, sent in 1912, referring to the creation of Imperial Delhi:

Trees will be everywhere, in every garden however small it may be, and along the sides of every roadway, and Imperial Delhi will be in the main a sea of foliage. It may be called a city, but it is going to be quite different from any city that the world has known.

Quite a vision, eh? So the evergreen rai-jamun found favour with the planners; whereas many other earlier Mughal garden favourites lost out.

Both rai-jamun and jamun were planted by the British. The rai-jamun was planted on Rajpath and India Gate; and the jamun, the most popular of the Lutyen's avenue trees, was planted on Tughlaq, Rajaji, Motilal Nehru, etc. In case you're wondering what the difference between jamun and rai-jamun is, here's a dummies guide :)

So if you walk past India Gate in August, you'll be eating the smaller jamuns! Every year the Delhi civic authorities auction the rights to collect fruits off the avenue trees. Fruits are either hand-picked or more popularly just shaken down (all fruits on a single tree don't ripen at the same time, so shaking makes sense). The jamunwallahs at India Gate sell it with chaat masala. Or is it kala namak? I'm not sure, so if you know what it is, then tell me!

Meanwhile, I'll just head back to my book and look up more trees. I can't think of a better way to spend Sunday :)

The oldest tomb in Delhi

2010-07-23T23:30:00.083+05:30

Every time I drive around Delhi, the one thing that strikes me is sheer number of old tombs. Reminders of Delhi's Muslim elite - men and women, now long dead - appear around every corner of the road.

Some of Delhi's dead lie in grand edifices commissioned by wives or sons or faithful retainers; others sleep in humbler structures. Some sleep solo; others cluster together, sharing their resting place with family or even strangers. Some tombs are famous, others have crumbled, and even the names of the occupants have been lost.

Somewhat bewildered by the number of tombs around me, I went looking for the oldest one - and found myself caught up in the strange architecture of a tomb with a fanciful name - Sultan Ghari, or The Sultan's Cave.

Iltumish, the third and perhaps greatest emperor of the Slave Dynasty, built this strange looking octagonal tomb in 1231 for his son Nasiruddin Mahmud. I don't think I've ever seen anything in this shape anywhere else in Delhi, have you?

The local name for this tomb is Sultan Ghari i.e. the Sultan's Cave. The Arabic word ghaar means cave or crypt.

So where's the cave, you ask? It is under the octagon, of course. The body of Nasiruddin Mahmud is not buried in the octagon, but below it, in an underground chamber. The "floor" that you see (on which people are walking) is not really a floor, it is a platform raised of rubble, built to give the impression that the body is under the ground. A complicated lie, basically :) The slab that covers the octagon is the ceiling of the underground chamber. Now you see why they call it the Sultan's Cave?

If the octagonal raised crypt is unusual, so are its surrounds. The crypt sits inside what can only be described as a fortress.

Entrance to Sultan's Cave. If you peer through the entrance marble arch, you can see the octagon. This photo is from Prof Mortel's great collection of Delhi photos. Head over and take a look.

I'm not quite sure why Iltumish built a fortress, really. Maybe those were troubled times, or maybe he wanted a memorial for a victorious warrior son. Nasiruddin Mahmud helped Iltutmish conquer large swathes of Bengal, and ruled for 18 months as governor of Oudh, Bengal and Bihar. He was the oldest son and the heir-apparent. Had he not died, this was the empire he would have inherited.

The Empire of the Slave Dynasty extended from West to East. Nasiruddin expanded, consolidated and strengthened his father's empire in the East.

The courtyard surrounding Nasiruddin's octagonal crypt has a corridor, in which Iltumish reused pillars from Hindu temples. During this phase of Islamic construction, it is quite apparent that the builders were in a hurry, working with material already available.

Temple pillars with decorative elements chipped away. The corridor possibly served as a college or madrasa.

In the centre of the corridor is a prayer-niche of marble. The floor of this marble prayer-chamber contains the base of a shiva-lingam, pointing to the destruction of temples during the Sultanate (the Indira Gandhi National Centre for Arts has photos here in case you want a closer look)

During this phase of Islamic construction in Delhi, Hindu artisans worked on the monuments, and their lack of familiarity with Islamic architectural concepts led to many compromises. For example, roofs continued to be flat trabeate structures, spanned by beams and lintels, just as in Hindu temples. Although the doorways to Sultan Ghari were arched in keeping with traditional Islamic architecture, these were not "true" arches, and the workmen used corbels to create a "fake" arch.

Corbelled arch at Sultan Ghari.
A corbel is a piece of stone that juts out of a wall to carry the weight of something that rests on top of it.

After the death of Nasiruddin, Iltumish nominated his daughter Raziya as Sultan. She ruled for 4 years, before being killed in an uprising by her nobles (who wanted to raise one of her other brothers to the throne).

Raziya's grave, though, is a far cry from Nasiruddin's fortress tomb. For one, nobody is really sure where she is buried, and there are many conflicting stories. Some believe she is buried in Kaithal, Haryana. Others say her body was brought to Delhi and buried by the brother who succeeded her to the throne.

Razia Sultan's supposed grave in Turkman, Old Delhi. See interesting story here.

The site of Raziya's grave in Old Delhi is in a little lane, hemmed in by buildings on all sides. The Archaeological Survey of India has a little tablet here, which merely suggests that this is popularly believed to be where Raziya is interred. A part of the building has been converted to a small mosque. The second grave alongside is said to be that of her sister Shaziya; but local belief is that it is of her slave and lover.

Thus it goes on, tombs and graves in every nook and corner, reminding you that Delhi is a very old city with a lot of history. Indeed, were it not for the bustling noise of 15 million people who now live in Delhi, I would be tempted to label it a giant necropolis, a City of the Dead. I'm looking forward to unearthing more stories and secrets.

Sports and other things that push my buttons

2010-07-04T20:37:00.019+05:30

What is it with men and sports? :) My life is an unending set of matches these days.

Here I am, watching Vijay Amritraj spouting sage advice on Wimbledon. A little earlier we were watching football. In between there's cricket. It's no exaggeration to say that I'm going completely insane, endlessly watching grown men run, jump, throw, catch, kick, hit, lob, and volley.

Of all the games on TV, though, the one I don't mind watching is tennis.

You know why? Not because it is a more interesting sport. But because at least in tennis, the crowds are *quiet*. There's no hooting and shouting, no crazy humming vuvuzelas, no frenzied whipping up of mob sentiment, no ugly nationalism, and no silly dances by half naked women.

Tennis seems - dare I say it - a pastime for the civilized. There is the quiet announcement of the score, the clapping at the end of each point, the well-behaved boys and girls who pick up the balls with minimum fuss...and most blessed of all, the absolute silence when the serve begins. It all seems designed to ensure you enjoy the beauty of the game itself.

I suppose I am being elitist? So be it. I'm not apologetic. Who wants to listen to this nonsense for four hours in a day?

Actually, the more I look at my adverse reaction to football-mania, the more I realise that it is only a reflection of my intense dislike for mobs.

I. Absolutely. Detest. Mobs. Large groups of people hollering about anything - be it sports or religion - set my teeth on edge. Having lived through the enormous mind-numbing violence of communal riots, I have a deep-rooted hatred and fear of large groups of brainwashed people. Of course, sports fans are nothing like the super-crazy-mobs that religions unleash. But they still make me uncomfortable.

Sigh. Sorry to vent. The tennis match is ending now, and Nadal just won. The prize ceremony was set up with minimum fuss, less than five minutes after the last serve. Here he is, making his little speech.

I better go have dinner. That Wolverine movie is coming up soon. It's the husband's turn to put up with stuff now :)

Veggie heaven

2010-06-02T09:39:00.040+05:30

Recently I saw this poster of a tiger for the Incredible India tourism campaign:

(Not all Indians are polite, hospitable and vegetarian)

I burst out laughing, thinking of all the *very* polite, *very* vegetarian Indian IT professionals I know. If you're working in financial services, or information technology, or BPO, chances are, you'll have met some of these guys. Armed with laptops and packets of MTR ready-to-eat veggie upma, they periodically set out to conquer the West, but return gratefully to India (and the delights of home cooked food) at the first chance that presents itself.

I shouldn't laugh, though. Until recently, I was one of them. Every time I travelled, it was bread, fruit and cheese until I came back home to rice and chappati and my blessed dals and veggies. As my forays abroad grew more frequent, I learnt to hunt for Italian, Mexican, Lebanese and other cuisines, gradually becoming more and more successful in fending for myself.

These days, I'm no longer travelling abroad as much. Instead, I watch with interest (and some amusement!) as tourists of different nationalities, tastes and interests, grapple with Indian food.

Almost every tourist is surprised by the sophistication and variety of the vegetarian cuisine they encounter. The most frequent thing I hear is "Lord, I could be vegetarian here forever!" (and the happiest, loudest cries of delight seem to be from American vegetarians, don't ask me why).

The excellent veggie thali meal at Hotel Sunbird in Bharatpur

I confess I am baffled by how widely popular vegetarian cuisine is in India. This is totally in contrast with other countries in the world, where vegetables are something that you force yourself to eat.

The markets here are full of interesting vegetarian options - for example, walk into any market in Delhi and you'll see something like this:

Fresh vegetables arrive daily at the market, and eagle-eyed men and women come shopping in the evening inspecting them with practised ease

Different varieties of leafy greens are popular - these are chopped and added to wheat flour to make spicy flavoured parathas, or pureed to make saag, ground into chutneys, or simply used as garnish

Sprouts and beans of different types are cooked with onions, tomatoes, garlic, green chillies, ginger and coriander to make amazingly tasty dals

The markets are proof enough - Indians eat a lot of vegetarian food, with sprouts, legumes, vegetables and milk products dominating the meal. Even "non-veg" Indians eat a lot of vegetarian food. The frequency of meat / chicken / fish dishes differs from house to house; in some cases it is once a week, whereas in some houses there is a daily non-vegetarian dish. Most Hindu homes have vegetarian breakfasts, with non-vegetarian food typically reserved for lunch or dinner.

Meat does not comprise the main dish in India in the sense that Westerners understand it - there is really no Indian equivalent of a large steak. In non-veg households, the star of the meal is a meat or chicken side-dish/curry, which is eaten with rice or roti. Or the meat is added to a biryani or pulao.

In comparison with people from other religions, Christians and Muslims eat more non-vegetarian food, including at breakfast. But even their diets have a significant vegetarian component. The only places that do not have a predominantly vegetarian cuisine are our coastal regions where fish is a standard element of literally every meal.

So anyway, where did this vegetable and legume diet come from?

I am told it's plain economics; that Indian diet has many vegetarian elements because most Indians cannot afford a meat based daily diet. But when you look at China, or any of the countries of the Far East that are just as poor as India, you see that their cuisines are dominated by non-vegetarian food. The Vietnamese, for instance, have similar per capita income as India, but have 5 times as much meat in their diet. Clearly there's something else going on in India.

There is a view that this is the influence of Buddhism and Jainism. Pshaw, I say. The Jains and Buddhists make up only a very small number of Indians; and there are not enough of them to create any food trends. Besides, almost everywhere in the world, Buddhists eat lots of meat, fish, and indeed, if the Far East is anything to go by, anything that moves.

Among Hindus, it is only the upper caste Brahmins who have religious reasons to be purely vegetarian. The vast majority are not required by religion to be vegetarian (except on certain festival days and occasions), but they still eat a lot of vegetarian food. Is it religion that drives the daily menu of a house towards many vegetarian foods? In part, yes, but I really don't think it is the full picture.

I think I'm going to settle for a more prosaic explanation, unless any of you can educate me otherwise. We eat so many vegetables and pulses and legumes simply because that's the way it has always been. "We are like that only". Whether we are "veg" or "non-veg", we make the most of the wide variety of veggies in the market. We cook them in interesting ways, cut them into pickles, we roast them, we mix them with dals, spice them up, mash them into chutneys, fry them into finger-licking snacks, and we thoroughly enjoy all of it.

Delhi - 21st century city?

2010-05-16T19:24:00.008+05:30

The Hindustan Times Brunch on Sunday had an interesting theme:

Is Delhi the Indian city of the 21st century?

The article argues that Calcutta - which for 300 years was the business and cultural capital of India - went from "can do" to "hobey na" between 1940-60. Staggering under the onslaught of Partition, with huge waves of poor migrants, and a sharply slashed economy, the city slid further down as Communism took hold.

Bombay, which looked like the Golden City of the 20th century, now appears to be on a downward slide. The closure of the mills in the 1980's, the 1992 Hindu-Muslim riots, the current anti-migrant policy of the Sena brigade, the slums, the traffic woes...these seem to suggest that the city is becoming cancerous.

Delhi, on the other hand, seems to be on an upswing. The article suggests that Delhi has many things that make it a city you want to live in - a new Metro (finally, safe public transport for women), new roads and flyovers, an increasingly cosmopolitan mix of people (unlike the earlier Delhi of Punjabis and Haryanvis), and a happening cultural scene. Most importantly, Delhi is not a state capital; it is not constrained by the demands of less prosperous rural surroundings, therefore it can determine its own future.

So what do you think? Does the 21st century belong to Delhi?

Falling in love - my Kanha trip report

2010-05-08T10:16:00.054+05:30

We are just back from a 3 day trip to Kanha Tiger Reserve. We flew into Nagpur, and drove 5 hours through the countryside, to a pretty lodge called Camp Dev Vilas. We did four safaris into the jungle - two in the morning, and two in the evening. By the time I came back home, I was exhausted.

But I had fallen in love with Kanha.

Why, you ask?

No, it wasn't the tigers. Or any of the beautiful birds we saw. Or my first sighting of a leopard in the wild.

I fell in love with the land itself.

There are very few places in India where time stands still. Kanha is one of those places. In the tall sal forests of Kanha, it feels as if nothing has changed for a thousand years, as if the forests and the trees have stood there forever.

A sounder of wild boars in Kanha's Sal Tree Forests.
Apart from the noise of their feet on the leaves, there was no other sound.

I have been to other forests in India - but none of them have had this kind of impact on me.

Maybe it is the sheer size of Kanha. You can keep driving around; the park seems endless. One evening, we drove up to a plateau for a look at the park boundary.

The forest stretched as far as the eye could see.
Kanha is horse-shoe shaped, with hills ringing the park.
Can you see the hills in the far distance?

The park is all of 2000 square kilometers., with habitat that includes not only sal forests, but also more wild forested tracts, and beautiful meadows.

The famous meadows of Kanha.
Looks like a water colour painting, almost.
I managed to photograph a beautiful deer silhouetted against the grass.

The people of Kanha are ancient too. One morning, as we drove in the dark pre-dawn hour to our safari, I saw a group of Baiga tribals, carrying wood. There were men and women in the group walking with small quick steps, balancing their loads on their shoulders. As they melted away into the darkness, our guide Monu explained that the Baigas still make their living from the forest, collecting honey and timber.

In the buffer zone of Kanha, we also saw many small settlements of Gonds. Their houses are uniformly painted an auspicious blue. Their cattle are short, with small horns. They are farmers and cattle owners, living a simple rustic life.

Gond house under a mahua tree.
Alcohol is made from the fruits of this tree;
but I also heard that the langurs of the forest eat the fruits and get intoxicated :)

By the way, if you have heard of the word 'Gondwanaland' - referring to an ancient continental structure that existed up until 130 million years ago - it comes from the Sanskrit words "gond" + "vana" - meaning Forests of the Gonds.

In the late nineteenth century, an Austrian geologist, Eduard Seuss, studied the ancient land formations in central India, and came up with the theory that the continents as we know it today were all joined together. It was he who coined the term Gondwanaland to refer to this ancient supercontinent.

Rocks, forests, people - everything about Kanha seems ancient, reminding you of a time when the world was a different place. Although the animal population of Kanha is nowhere the size it once was (the vast herds that once roamed these meadows are gone), the Forests of the Gonds seem to have escaped the complete destruction we see everywhere else in India.

Chital run away in alarm when they see our jeep.

One of the endearing features of Kanha is that the animals are still very shy of humans. It is a very different experience from say, Africa, where the animals lie around, indifferent to the hundreds of tourist jeeps. I for one, rejoiced that I had found such an Eden. I will return to Kanha soon, I am certain.

Suprabhatam - The Dawn Prayer

2010-05-04T13:21:00.014+05:30

This morning I listened to Suprabhatam - the Dawn Prayer - as sung in the Tirumala temple in Andhra Pradesh.

Every morning in the Tirumala temple, the temple idol is woken up with the sound of the Dawn Prayer. The idol is dressed and anointed, and the temple doors are then thrown open to the waiting devotees, who gather eagerly for the Suprabhata Darshanam, the dawn sighting of the Lord.

Growing up, we didn't go to temples often. But to me, there's always been something mesmerising and calming about the Dawn Prayer. Perhaps the sound of Sanskrit appeals to me; or perhaps it is the cadence of the chant. Or perhaps it is the knowledge that I am listening to something very old.

On an impulse today, I looked up the Tirumala website for a translation of the Dawn Prayer - and found myself captivated by the beauty of the lyrics.

Wake up, Lord, the song says, wake up! See the beauty of the Dawn! The breeze carries the scent of half-opened blue lotuses; it blows gently through coconut and arecanut trees. Green parrots in beautiful cages open their eyes; they eat bananas and sweet payasam, and sing gracefully. The black bees hum loudly, declaring themselves more beautiful than the flowers! Wake up, Lord, and with your waking, render the three worlds auspicious!

Lord Vishnu sleeping on the snake Anantasesha

For me, the imagery these words conjure up is magical. In my mind, I can see a green prosperous fertile country, with rice fields and coconut groves, where the morning brings with it gentle breezes and calm beauty. Dark-skinned beautiful women walk by the fields, their sarees brilliant with colour, jasmine in their hair. Temple spires – tall, colorful gopurams - rise above the trees. White oxen are being yoked to the plough. Everything is green and beautiful…and somehow blessed. (It is just me or does anyone else see these things? I don’t know!)

Other than a description of natural beauty, the Dawn Prayer also contains poetic descriptions of Vishnu, the blue-skinned God.

Darling child of Kausalya! Lord with the Eagle Banner! Lord of the Seshachala Hills! Padmanabha, he of the Lotus Navel! Purushottama, ideal among Men! Madhava! Janardana! Chakrapani, Holder of the Divine Discus! Lord of the ten incarnations! He whose body is marked by the sacred Srivatsa sign!

The names go on, each rich with legend and meaning, bringing to my mind more and more beautiful visuals, until the whole Dawn Prayer is infused with a divine grace where God and Nature intertwine, where lines blur, where all I can see is the glory of the Universal Truth manifested in everything around me.

Is it not fitting, then, that the dawn sighting of the Lord in the Tirumala temple is called not just Suprabhata Darshanam, but also Viswarupa Sarva Darshanam? (For those who do not know, the Viswarupa is the Cosmic Form of the Lord, said to contain the entire Universe in itself).

I am not religious, but I tell you, the Dawn Prayer as I understood it this morning gave me goosebumps. My only regret is that my knowledge of Sanskrit is still half-baked, that three years of learning it is nowhere near enough to appreciate its depth and grace. Truly, when you do not know the languages of your ancestors, you have lost half the world.

The controversial elephant ride at Amer Fort, Jaipur

2010-04-16T09:32:00.010+05:30

Every now and then, I keep hearing cries from activists to stop the elephant rides in Amer Fort.

These are ten minute rides, from the bottom of the hill to the fort, with a maximum of two riders to an elephant. The rides start around 8:00 a.m. and end by about 11:00 a.m.

Those who call for banning the rides say that it is cruel to the elephants, that they toil in the sun, and that the stone terrain is hard on their feet.

It is a complex issue, so to all those asking for the rides to be stopped, I say, please don't oversimplify it.

There are 4-5 traditional communities in India that work with animals - the madaris with their monkeys, the kalandars with bears, the elephant handlers, the saperas with their snakes, and there are also communities in Rajasthan who specialise in tiger hunting, and so on and so forth. Apart from these, there are many, many others in rural and small-town India who depend on animals for a living. When you advocate a course of action that impacts both people and animals, it is worthwhile to pause and think about not just the moral issues but also the practical ones.

For me, the first and larger dilemma comes when I ask myself - is domestication of animals ethically right? Do humans have the right to capture, tame and use wild animals? Do humans really have the right to tame and use other animals like camels, horses, donkeys, and bullocks? Do humans have the right to even confine dogs, whose natural habitat is the wild, and who would much prefer to run free in their own packs? Taking that a step further, is it correct to restrict the freedom of sheep, pigs, goats etc for slaughter? Is it correct to subject mice, monkeys and rabbits to pain in laboratories?

Bullock cart in Agra - are they toiling any less in the sun?

Overladen mule-cart in Old Delhi in peak April summer

There are many inspiring schools of Indian thought which say that cruelty to living creatures is not acceptable. We all learn even as schoolchildren about the Boddhisatva who takes monkey form, or elephant form, or bird and other forms, to teach humans compassion for all living creatures. Many religions forbid the killing of animals, and religions like Jainism forbid the use of animal products like leather.

My personal view is that the restriction of freedom of any animals by humans is an unfortunate historical necessity and an unavoidable fact, but is morally incorrect. That applies not just to elephants, but to all animals who are victims of what I call "human conquest". Taking the argument to its logical extension, to me the raising of sheep for slaughter is no different from the raising of elephants for commercial use. I do not like either of these.

However, the moral dimension of the issue is different from the practical dimension.

Practically speaking, the planet probably can't support all of us if no one ate meat. Practically speaking, the camel is the best and perhaps only affordable solution for humans in the desert areas of Rajasthan. Elephants were probably the most effective way to get timber from forests. Dogs were probably the most effective warning mechanism and hunting help for humans. And so on and so forth.

These practicalities change with time and technology. Therefore from a purely practical point of view, leaving the morals/ethics aside, the use of animals has to be constantly re-evaluated to see if it makes sense, and if it is unavoidable as a means to secure human welfare.

When you evaluate the situation in such terms, it becomes obvious that some uses of animals have now outlived their necessity and that it is time to stop it. Some other uses have still enormous practical value, and stopping it would lead to loss of human welfare (for example, oxen for ploughs, or camels for the desert, even with the advent of tractors and jeeps, there is really no cost-effective subsitute).

Tribal Rabari woman with her camels. These are their only wealth.

It is not always easy to make these decisions, and there are definitely shades of grey in these.

But it is quite clear to me that we have only two ways forward:

1. Where the use of animals is unavoidable, regulate and police actively to ensure minimum pain and maximum compassion

2. Where the use of animals is avoidable, phase out with a sensitive and practical understanding of the issues.

The elephants at Amer are merely joyrides, and nowhere in the unavoidable category. So it is quite clear to me that they must be stopped. However, I am not willing to see the elephants at Amber starve to death simply because there is no employment for them forcing their owners to abandon them.

The solution is obvious and two-pronged, but I will state it anyway. We need the following:
a) The creation of a government or private sponsored facility to "retire" the elephants and look after them until they die
b) A program to re-skill and provide gainful employment the mahouts so that their families don't starve

I have just visited the Bear Rescue Centre in Agra where over 275 'dancing bears' have been brought from various places in India. The Bear rescue centre is a permanent home for these bears because they cannot be released into the wild. The kalandar community from whom they have been purchased have been compensated for the bears (Rs 50,000 for a bear) and they have been taught other skills. Some of them work at the centre. Craft products and jewellery made by kalandar women is sold at the centre.

The Bear Rescue Centre at Agra provides a successful, practical model to follow

Simply saying "Stop the rides at Amber" is not the solution. Without the necessary support system in place to provide alternative rescue for the elephants, stopping the rides would mean taking away the elephants' only earning.

So if you're visiting Jaipur, and wondering whether to do the ride, I say, until there is a viable alternative for the elephants, do it. If you see mistreatment, report it (there is an Elephant Welfare Office at the fort). If you want to contribute towards their welfare, then donate to wild life rescue organisations who are working in the field. I would recommend these guys: Wildlife SOS (the same guys running the Bear Rescue Centre in Agra). I visited them and was very impressed not just by their understanding of the issues involved, but their very practical approach, collaborating with difficult government departments etc. They have a captive Elephant Welfare Project and are trying to start a sanctuary in Haryana for elephants similar to their Bear facility in Agra. I wish them luck.

- Deepa

I walk into a wheat field

2010-04-03T21:41:00.029+05:30

Have you seen wheat being harvested anywhere in India?

I hadn't seen wheat farming up close, until I walked into a golden-yellow wheat field in Rajasthan last week.

I was on a trip to Agra and Bharatpur, with my friend Stephane. Everywhere along the highway we saw big overloaded tractors, looking like very pregnant cows, trundling along.

"What are they carrying", I asked our driver. "Is it wheat?" I knew that in North India, March / April is the month when the wheat crop that is sown in November is harvested. Mustard too is harvested at this time.

The driver smiled at my city-bred ignorance, but said kindly "Na, na, madam, it is the left over dry grass after the wheat is harvested. It is used for fodder."

Ah, I nodded, realising my stupidity. Of course. The wheat is harvested in the field, threshed, and only the grains are transported to the market. These huge overstuffed straw bags were too flimsy to possibly contain the precious grain.

We drove further along, and in many fields, I saw women and men harvesting the crop by hand.

"I'd love to go into these fields", I said to Stephane. "Just to see what it's like, you know?"

As luck would have it, we met a guide in Bharatpur Bird Sanctuary, who was also a farmer. He was perhaps 50 years old, a grizzled and seasoned birder. We chatted about birds and Bharatpur's seasons; but it was too hot to go bird-watching.

So I asked the guide: "Can you take me to see the harvest?" He said yes, and in 20 minutes, Stephane and I found ourselves rather unexpectedly walking through a golden wheat field!

On both sides of the small dirt embankment, the wheat crop was ready for harvesting. The first thing we did was to pluck a single stalk, rub it to remove the chaff, and taste the wheat. You know the most surprising thing? The grains were soft, not hard. I was expecting it to be exactly like store-bought grain, hard to bite. But no, it was chewy and lovely to nibble. I remembered the famous Aesop's fable about the Town Mouse and the Country Mouse. I felt like I had actually transformed into that Country Mouse! Wholesome wheat grains everywhere but no fancy pantry with sugar and treacle and ham and sausages in sight!

We walked further along and came to where the women were at work. It is not an easy job. Work starts early in the morning, and continues through the day, although temperatures at noon can be something like 30 - 35 C.

We were a welcome diversion; but not until our guide walked away did the women begin to chat with me. I didn't understand their silence at first, until our guide explained it to me - he was the senior member of their family, and in his presence, the women would maintain a modest silence, and would not unveil themselves.

But when he left, the women transformed into a chatty, laughing trio. They were as curious about me, as I was about them. Where do you live? What work do you do? Where are you going? They peppered me with as many questions as I did them.

I was curious about the sickles, so one of the women lent her sickle to me. I hunkered down to examine it. It was surprisingly light, and unlike the smooth curve that I was envisaging, it had a pointy inside edge. I realised the women were actually using wrist /muscle power to hook the knife around the wheat and pull it at a particular angle, slicing through the wheat stalks with a smooth technique.

"Man, how do they sit like this the whole day long", asked Stephane, who - in true tourist fashion - was quite amazed by how comfortable the women were in the squatting position. "Isn't it murder on the knees?"

I very wisely decided to find a more comfortable cross-legged position on the edge of the field. (Behind us you can see the other side of the field, which the women had already harvested)

I spent a happy 15 minutes sitting cross-legged, chatting and exchanging stories. Although initially I was a "city-mem", a stranger to the women, somewhere along the conversation, things changed and we became friends on a more equal sort of footing. Must you go? Can't you stay longer?, I was asked. I was invited home for dinner, and to stay the night if I wished. (I am always humbled by the hospitality and kindness I experience in rural India - no matter how poor people are, the genuine warmth that they extend to complete strangers is amazing).

I was also offered some advice on the importance of having male children. In fact, the women were quite distressed to hear I had no sons.

"Kya? Aapka beta nahi hai?", they asked me. What? You have no son? (what a tragedy!)

I said no, I had only one daughter, but she was pure gold ("Lakhon mein ek hai meri beti").

They shook their heads. That apparently didn't count.

"Ek beta hona chahiye", I was told, somewhat sadly. You must have a son.

I tried again. "Meri beti badi hokar khoob padegi, kamayegi, hamara naam roshan karegi" My daughter will study and work and do well and make me proud.

Uh-uh. No dice. I had to have a son, for my own good. "Phir bhi, ek beta to hona chahiye, behen. Ek beta jaroor kar lo aap"

It was advice lovingly offered, to someone who they thought would benefit by listening to it. What could I say in the face of such utter conviction? I gave up, and smiled and told them, ok, next time I'll come here with a baby in my arms! We all laughed, and I waved goodbye...

...But as I was walking out with our guide, I wondered when these attitudes would change, and when these women would stop viewing themselves as second class citizens. Will the new Women's Reservation Bill be able to change anything in this village? I don't know. Not in this lifetime, perhaps.

Still, I was glad I spent some part of the afternoon here with these women. Living in my elitist "emancipated" world, I had forgotten the ground realities. Seeing the lives and beliefs of these women brought me sharply back in touch with the real India. I remembered Mahatma Gandhi's famous trip through the country, to meet the people of rural India. How much he must have learnt and observed as he spoke to his fellow countrymen!! Not surprisingly, it transformed his life and influenced his economic and political policy.

As usual, the brush with rural India had left me both elated as well as depressed. This sort of contradiction defines my love-hate relationship with my country. I marvel at its beauty, delight in its simplicity, but know there are many changes needed, and that there is a grim, long road ahead.

Marriage? We want Indians only :)

2010-03-19T10:14:00.009+05:30

Am I the only one who finds matrimonial adverts fascinating?

Here are four ads from the Hindustan Times.

The first two are from Indian boys living abroad who want to marry girls from India. This of course, is a common phenomenon - taking a 'family-oriented' and 'cultured' bride from India is the norm (as opposed to the wild American memsahibs, I suppose, he he).

But the last two ads are from Indian girls abroad, who are looking for boys from India. I must confess, I was a little surprised.

Take a look.

Hmm, hmm. The boy wants someone sophisticated, attractive, well-educated, career-minded, but *also* family-oriented. Looks like his parents wrote the ad.

The girl's family must be educated and accomplished? OK, whatever :)

Hmm, what do we have here?

A girl studying medicine in the USA. Would like to "explore the possibilities of meeting prospective persons" on her India visit. I like the sound of that :) I think she wrote this herself, maybe. "Boy must be well educated". Nothing about the boy's family, he he.

Clean shaven Sikh boy wanted, one that's willing to settle in Australia. Hmm.

These ads, by the way, are from a special column in the matrimonials reserved for NRIs (overseas Indians). The column occupies significant newsprint space. Obviously it's not just a few odd-balls who still yearn for India. It's interesting to watch how the Indian diaspora grows, but never really separates from the motherland. I wonder what "cultural values", if any, these new brides and grooms are exporting from India.

Alone, white and female in India

2010-03-17T17:58:00.011+05:30

On a travel forum recently, a young Polish woman asked: "I am planning to go to India and would be grateful if you could tell me whether it is safe for me to go there alone. If someone has any experience in travelling on his/her own, please post your comments"

Lots of people offered her advice; most of which centred around dressing modestly (preferably in a salwar kameez!), not getting too familiar with strangers, avoiding isolated areas and dark alleys, and so on. Among the many people who offered advice, there was one gentleman who suggested she carry pepper-spray. This led to a protest by some others - What?? Pepper spray!!?? Why are you scaring tourists away from India?? - and so on.

Co-incidentally, I had just been reading a city magazine, a 'Women's Special', with a whole page devoted to staying safe in cities - and among the five things they listed was pepper spray!

So what's the right advice for this lady? Should she stick to big cities? Are they safer, or are they more dangerous than smaller towns? Are some states safer than others? As I heard various points of view, I felt obliged to conclude that there is no single truth when it comes to female safety in India.

But that doesn't mean there are no conclusions to be drawn! I travel alone, frequently, to different parts of the country, and from my own interactions with men, I find that some parts of the country are disconcertingly hostile to women and disparaging of their bodies, whereas other places are a delight.

I was in Orissa recently, and I have to say I did not encounter one single lecherous man; it was a fantastic experience. I have spent two years in Calcutta, again, without so much as a single nasty incident in spite of late nights and odd hours.

I would rank Uttar Pradesh, Haryana, Rajasthan and Delhi among my list of difficult places for solo women travellers. (I have not been to Bihar, but I confess I have no great expectations from the state that produced Laloo Prasad Yadav). Other than Orissa and Bengal, I would rank Kerala among my nicest travel experiences, followed by Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka, Maharashtra and Goa (in no particular order). I have no experience of the north-eastern states.

Of course, this is all based on personal and anecdotal stuff, and is therefore open to bias, but I suspect many Indian women would agree with me. If you don't agree, that's fine too. There is no necessity for consensus here. Irrespective of which state is better and which is worse, what I'm trying to say is that there seem to be some regional trends in the behaviour of men towards women.

I am puzzled by these differences. Surely we are all not that different from each other? Maybe it’s just that places which are more hidebound and stuck in the dark ages are more difficult for women? With a social structure that does not value women, it is that much more difficult to get the basic respect you deserve. But Tamil Nadu with its high female foeticide doesn't value women either...so it's hard to explain why I feel safer in Chennai than in Delhi. Again, this is also a sweeping generalisation. Some parts of Delhi (and I am writing this sitting in Delhi) are extremely safe and very nice to be, and some very nice guys I know are from Delhi. But I don't feel the same "body freedom" in the crowded lanes of Chandni Chowk as I do in the equally crowded Pondy Bazaar or Bhuleshwar or Gariahaat markets. Why? I wish I knew.

Sigh - so - going back to the young Polish woman - while there is no single truth about the Indian men she will encounter, the fact remains that she is likely to go through some not-so-pleasant experiences if she is travelling solo. Let's face it, this is a difficult country for single white women to travel. The average Indian man assumes that white women are alley cats and are potentially available - why else would they flaunt their bodies in public places, right? To add to this is the depressingly common lesson which most young men receive at the hands of their older friends - that's it's perfectly alright to ogle and whistle and grope and treat women badly. Indeed, it is very *masculine* to do so, as Hindi movies so brilliantly illustrate. It's not just white women who get the lecherous idiocy - the same disgusting treatment is accorded to very modestly dressed local women as well. It's a grim story, and one that always makes me want to decimate the entire male race :)

To the lady who asked the original question, I say, pack that pepper spray, girl! You may not need it, but you'll feel better with it in your purse.

Two young tigers poisoned - why blame the Gujars?

2010-03-08T09:25:00.019+05:30

It's a fairly standard story - tigers come into conflict with humans, prey on valuable livestock, and in response, the tigers are poisoned.

The latest to die are two young male tigers who went into the Keladevi Sanctuary, perhaps looking for new territory.
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The Keladevi Sanctuary is the buffer zone for the Ranthambhore tiger sanctuary. The river Banas divides the forest in this area into two. To the southwest of the river is Ranthambhore National Park and to the northeast is Keladevi.
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There are just 5 Gujar families in the area where the two tigers were killed. Gujars are primarily herdsmen; they live in small settlements in the forest. Some of them have been arrested for this killing.
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But why blame them? What would you do if two scary predators came within a whisker of your livestock and family? Can you see yourself doing anything different?
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Apparently, these two tigers had been visiting that area for the past one and a half months, and preying on livestock. The forest department did nothing. No compensation was given, and no discussions were initiated with the Gujar families to keep them or their livestock safe. No wonder they tied a couple of goats as poisoned bait!
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Clearly the real problem is with the system, with forest department authorities who don't know their elbows from their backsides! Poor funding, poorly trained staff, poor tracking, and appallingly poor management of the forest, its people and its animals!!

Argh. @%#$@&#@*& !!!

Photo by Giriraj Sharma, eTV. The full story is here, if you want to read it

Who needs Bollywood when you've got Obama?

2010-02-22T22:40:00.012+05:30

Among the more interesting sights you will see in Agra these days is a hoarding for men's underwear:

Spotted in Agra: O-bamaa underwear.

With sales of $200 million, Rupa & Co is the single largest branded underwear company India. They have different brands for different market segments, endorsed by Bollywood stars.

Their biggest selling premium brand is called Frontline, and it is endorsed by a chubby 40-something Sanjay Dutt.

Before Sanjay Dutt took on the Frontline contract, they had an even chubbier Govindaa wearing a vest and RSS-type khaki shorts, and smirking "Yeh aaram ka maamla hai" (It's all about comfort, baby!)

In 2007, they signed up another super-star - Hrithik Roshan - to endorse Macroman, their upscale line targetted at younger age groups. They've also signed up Saif Ali Khan, Aishwarya Rai, and Lisa Ray, for some of their other brands.

Clearly, Rupa & Co has a thing about celebrity endorsements.

But what do you do when you have a line of underwear that cannot afford celebrity endorsements? The Jon line is Rupa's downmarket brand, meant for lower income groups. The briefs are 100% cotton, functional and plain, with the focus on toughness and durability (won't stretch after multiple washes!)

I wonder which creative guy decided these were just the right attributes to name this line after the President of the United States :)

But the deed is done, and there are now O-bamaa hoardings everywhere. I wonder if sales are booming.

- Deepa

P.S. The hoarding photo was clicked by sharp-eyed Sara Williams, from Harvard Medical School. Way to go, Sara!

February smiles on us

2010-02-20T07:53:00.005+05:30

January was cold and foggy, with people huddled over coal fires, swathed in thick blankets. But now that February is here, the days are warmer, and the smiles brighter.

People still find comfort in the coal embers, but everyone knows the winter is going away soon, and spring is on its way.

Couple enjoying a light moment - parking lot, Hauz Khas Village

Basant, the season of blossoms, of bright flowers, of courtship and love, is just around the corner. Delhi waits for the coming of Holi.

Er...camels, anyone?

2010-01-24T10:07:00.035+05:30

This morning on television, I saw the Border Security Force camel contingent practising for the Republic Day Parade on January 26.

Ha, ha, I said to myself, look, camels. How quaint.

The TV camera went behind the scenes, and showed little snippets of the camels stirring at dawn, and interviewed their proud moustachioed handlers. Delhi is cold and foggy right now (lots of flights and trains cancelled today); but the BSF camel contingent was up early, preparing the camels for the day's rehearsals. There are three months of daily rehearsals, as a lead up to Republic Day. And the men interviewed on TV were proud of who they were and what they were doing.

The camel parade is a colourful spectacle. They do look good, you know? The camels are all brightly tasselled; they have this brass band, and the camels march smartly to the drummers. They're even in the Guinness Book of World Records, for being the world's only camel band.

But to me, this sort of pageantry has never been particularly interesting - in fact, I find the Republic Day Parade really boring. I can understand the need for it. Every country needs to say, look, we're big and strong and guess what, my tanks (or camels!!) are better than yours. It's one of these feel-good things, I suppose, not just to reassure your own population, but also tell the rest of the world not to mess with you.

But I was more interested in finding out what the camels did when they were not parading.

As it turns out, nothing. These 100 are purely in showbiz :) They're a special set of camels, chosen for their haughty demeanour, much like their men are chosen for their moustaches. I kid you not. "No moustache? Sorry bro, you just don't cut the mustard." (The mustard reference is my idea of a pun. These men have to wax their moustaches every day with mustard oil, he he).

So anyway, while these 100 vain camels are kicking their legs smartly to music, there are another 700 not-so-vain camels behind the scenes that patrol our sandy desert borders with Pakistan. And it's a loooooonnnng border, stretching across multiple states.

Before 1965, the Indian border with Pakistan was patrolled by the state army. After 1965, when fighting broke out in the Rann of Kutch, a special unit was created - the Border Security Force, or BSF.

Have you seen the Rann of Kutch? Imagine an endless vista of flat land, dry as dust and baking hot. For three months in the monsoons, the Rann of Kutch is a salt marsh, when the rains bring moisture and the ground is inundated. The rest of the time, it is dry and caked; but there's moisture underneath, so it makes for difficult terrain (in fact, they're having trouble building fencing along the border there, because the ground gives way, and it is difficult to find purchase).

My friend Amit (who does really cool travel shows) clicked these photos in the Rann of Kutch while on a shoot. This is the Little Rann, not really the border, but you can see what the ground is like.

But obviously, this is good camel country! A camel costs 90 rupees a day; and doesn't need expensive diesel, or spare parts. Or repair shops or gas stations, all of which are impossible in this area. And - it has a good sense of direction :)

So everyday, the camelmen patrol the borders, up and down, looking for any signs of Pakistani presence. And, on the other side, there's a similar camel contingent in Pakistan, looking for signs of Indians (we are, after all, two sides of the same coin).

Here's a photo from Outlook India's special feature on the camel contingents of the Border Security Force. This photo is from Jaisalmer in Rajasthan, also desert country, but with a terrain quite different from the Rann of Kutch.

These then, are the working camels of the Border Security Force, moody, muzzled and tough. They're cranky creatures, apt to bite, and the camelmen use gur to coax them into better moods. I rather like them!

So I propose a toast - a toast to the working camels of BSF!! When we watch the prancing colour of the camels on Republic Day parade, I guess we should really remember who the real heroes are.

- Deepa

P.S. In 2007, the UNESCO asked the Border Security Force for 100 trained camels, for peacekeeping in Sudan. I don't think that proposal went anywhere, but obviously it means trained camels make horse sense (yeah, yeah, another bad pun, he he he).

The Non-Resident Indian

2010-01-10T14:44:00.011+05:30

A large number of my friends and family live abroad. In the Brahmin community that I come from, this is quite common. In the 80's many went abroad to study engineering or computer science, or to do research. Most found jobs and stayed back, returning briefly to India to marry and take wives back with them.

Most of the Indians we know abroad are first generation immigrants. Almost all are well-settled and successful, with well-paid jobs and beautiful homes. They are, as a group, quite well-integrated into the countries where they live.

But the one thread common to all of them, is that their hearts and souls are still Indian.

They are Indians, because their initial years were lived in India. Whether you grow up in a small town, or a sleepy city, or a big bustling metropolis, growing up in India is an experience that shapes you, defines you. The friends you make at schools and college, the often over-protective family that cloisters you, the extended community that you love to hate...the weddings, the festivals, the food, the weather, the crazy conversations over cricket, the laughter, the bitching, the rants about the bureaucracy - all of these define you.

So it's not surprising that almost all of my family and friends living abroad make visits to India, every couple of years. Most speak fondly of the country they left behind, and are nostalgic about the food, festivals, family and community get-togethers. As they grow into their forties and fifties and sixties, the nostalgia gets stronger and stronger, and the trips often more frequent.

But their children - second and third generation migrants - are a different matter altogether. They were born abroad, and their passports mark them as a different nationality. It's not just their accents that sound different - their slang, their jokes, their TV programmes, their food (yes, food is a big thing) - are all different. Just as my generation was shaped by India, these children have been shaped by the countries they live in.

They are, at heart, not Indian - although their well-meaning parents have sent them for Sanskrit classes, or music and dance lessons. These children will never know or relate to the many little anecdotes that bind Indians together - Ajit jokes, or the magic of Sholay, cricket.

Instead they are world citizens, global in their outlook, as comfortable with sushi as they are with tacos or nasi goreng. My nephew in New York learns Mandarin. A friend's daughter learns the cello.

The rational half of me recognises that this is a good thing - that as people migrate and spread and intermarry, many of the artificial boundaries that separate humans from each other are blurring. This is surely good for the planet.

But the other half - the emotional half - sharply mourns my personal loss. These are my friends and family, and their children, now strangers to me. As I head into my forties, I want to be surrounded by these people. Instead, they are far away, and we are each forced to move on with our personal spheres, intersecting occasionally. Digital images and facebook updates take the place of flesh and blood meetings or evenings spent over drinks, debating and laughing.

I feel especially sharply, the loss of my family. My nephew and niece, twins, were born in Cinncinnati a few months ago. I have not seen them yet. Another will be born in San Diego and I will not see that child either. I cannot gather them to me, or rock them to sleep, or tell them stories.

Even though my life is so full, I feel a sharp sense of loss. It is even worse for older people. I know elderly parents in India whose children have migrated abroad. Their days loom empty and lonely, without the sounds of grandchildren. Their visits to their family are complicated by unfriendly visa rules and alien surroundings.

All migration brings loss, yes. From village to city, or from one city to another, migration is difficult on those left behind. But migration abroad seems to have a finality, a severing of common ties, language, food and culture, that is harder to cope with. When asked, "Are you Indian?", my nieces and nephews in the US are going to answer, "No, we're American." I have yet to come to terms with that.

Delhi to Agra by train

2009-12-28T09:32:00.020+05:30

It started, as many trips do, with chaos.

We were taking the 6:15 express train from Delhi to Agra. We got to the New Delhi Railway Station in time, but were met by a crazy mess of cycle-rickshaws and cars and autos and buses, all trying to get to the same place, and weaving in and out of the "lanes". A 20-minute hold up, while we debated how heavy our bags actually were, and if we should make a last dash to the train on foot.

As we neared the station, the mess worsened. Meanwhile a bright yellow board smiled down benignly at us. "Zero Tolerance for traffic law breakers" it said. I simply had to grin. Our car driver was confident. "Don't worry, madam, there is enough time".

The sky lightened while we waited, and finally we entered the station with 15 minutes to spare. The first thing we did was to find a porter. We gave him our bags, and told him our train name.

Inside there was the usual crowd, but the big pink and red board was easy to read. We found our train was on time.

As we walked inside the station, we found people waiting for trains. There are simply not enough seats, so people with long wait just find a convenient place, spread a newspaper and sit down. Most of the pillars were already taken :)

We trundled blindly along behind our porter, trusting him to find our train and coach. That's my husband with his laptop. I hurried behind them, stumbling as I clicked and half-ran, half-walked. In case you didn't know this already, porters in Delhi walk really fast!

Voila! Our compartment! The porter was right as usual, leading us unerringly to it. I got a photo of him as he waited for me to catch up.

We checked and found our names neatly printed on the Reservation Chart stuck near the compartment door.

He helped stow the bags, and smiled his thanks when we paid well.

Meanwhile, other passengers arrived, children, adults, locals, foreigners...everyone settled in for the two hour ride.

In spite of the traffic, we had arrived with some minutes to spare, so I went exploring. The cabins are connected through little gangways, the toilets are near the gangways.

I pushed open the toilet door somewhat gingerly and took a peek inside. It was a Western-style toilet, with toilet paper, but not a particularly nice toilet. I was glad it was a short trip!

I stepped out of the train to click some photos. Several families were waiting for our train to leave, and for the next train to come in.

A railways employee was transferring what looked like the post. Piles of blankets and pillows were on the station, perhaps to be transferred to the next long distance train.

I went back inside the train, just in time for the newspaper delivery. The turbanned "bearer" is a cool idea! The Railways employs 1.4 million people, by the way, but very few of them have turbans :) It is India's single largest employer.

As we settled down, the train moved with a little jerk; and we were off to Agra!

A security guard came round, checking that all was well.

In about 15 minutes, morning tea arrived on a bright red tray, with a couple of biscuits. It was very welcome. For me, the worst part of the Agra trip was having to wake up at 4:30 a.m. and get out of the hotel by 5:30 a.m. without a decent breakfast. I polished off the biscuits but I was still hungry.

Then came the ticket checker, to inspect our tickets.

I was glad to see the breakfast tray. It was a mediocre breakfast at best, but I didn't care. I polished off two slices of bread with jam, and ate my oily cutlet. My husband had an egg omelette instead of the cutlet.

After breakfast, I tried to snooze a bit, since I was still groggy. In any case, there isn't much by way of scenery. We pulled into Agra Cantonment at 8:15, to a pleasant sunny morning. We had pre-arranged to be met at the station, so everything was nice and easy, we had another porter to manage the bags, and all I had to do was walk out, clicking away.

Here's the exterior of Agra Cantonment. It was less crowded than I expected; or perhaps most of the crowd had dissipated by the time we exited the station.

And so ended our train trip from Delhi to Agra. Of the 9000 or so trains that the Railways runs, this is one of the most popular ones on the tourist circuit. If you're taking this train, you will arrive too early in Agra to check into your hotel, so it is better to head straight to the Taj, and then go later to the hotel for check in and lunch. Also, I guarantee you, if you're anything like me, you'll be sleepy after lunch, so plan a little snooze before you head for Agra Fort at 3:30 p.m. And stay the night at Agra if your itinerary will allow it. Heading to Jaipur (5 hours), or back to Delhi, (long wait for the express return train at 8:30 p.m.) can be very tiring.

A Giant Indian Mantid for company

2009-12-09T13:08:00.025+05:30

As I write this, I keep glancing outside at the verandah. About 20 minutes ago, I discovered amongst my innocuous garden plants, a Giant Indian Mantid!!

She is all of 6-inches long, and she's at least an inch wide. This is the biggest insect I have ever seen in my life!

And frankly, this is hardly sort of thing you'd expect on the 14th floor of a city condominium. How did she even GET here?

Can you spot her? She's good at hiding, you know?

Anyway, I ran for my camera, before she moved. She gave me her best praying pose. I clicked and clicked and *swore* at the poor quality of the photos. But here's one of them anyway. It does no justice to the utterly gorgeous creature in front of me, but at least you can see something of her (click on it for a larger view).

Did I say gorgeous? Yep. She is gorgeous.
Check out those spiked forelegs (they're called "raptorial" legs, used to hold prey!)

Yeah, yeah, I know they're related to cockroaches. But this one is a beaut. And she's huge. I can't tear my eyes away. They're cannibalistic, you know? You can't put two mantids together in the same area, or before you know it, you have just one of them!

And the females eat the males during mating, like some species of spiders. There are photos here, go on, click here, it's fascinating!

How do I know this one in the photo is female? Because she has 6 segments to her abdomen, the males have 8. I wonder how long it's been since this one ate her last mate. :D

I'm still watching her. She's moved to the underside of the leaf now. She hiding, waiting for the next unwary insect to come buzzing by. Snap! Crackle! And the lady will feast.

Paranthe Wali Galli

2009-11-22T08:55:00.009+05:30

People are always asking me about Paranthewali Galli. What's it like? What do they serve? Is it really as tasty as they say it is?
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So here's an inside look at paratha making in Paranthewali Galli - you decide if it tempts you enough to go there!
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. . Step 1 - Pre-preparation - grated vegetables for stuffing the paratha.

This guy was sitting on one side of a small shop, grating vegetables. The photo above has grated cauliflower. Other stuffings include potatoes, cabbage, cottage cheese, peas, pulses, dry fruits...even sweet rabri. Very innovative.

Step 2 - A handful of the right stuffing
The ingredients for the paratha are are all laid out in trays. Depending on the order placed, a full handful of the right stuffing is used. In some parathas, the stuffing is a mix of multiple ingredients...I ordered a mix vegetable paratha that had paneer also in it.

Step 3 - Adding spices
Spices are added from the spice tray - cumin powder, red chilli powder, coriander powder, masala. Green chillies and ginger also often added. I didn't see onion or garlic, though. Perhaps because the shop is Brahmin, and this locality has many Jains as well (check out the nearby Jain Naughara if you can).
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Step 4 - Rolling the paratha
The paratha is then rolled in a dough that is wheat-based. The stuffing and spices go inside. There was an assistant helping with patting the dough into flat circles. You can also see the green chillies and ginger tray in this photo.

Step 5 - Now comes the deep-frying!
The paratha is then deep-fried in ghee. Instead of a flat griddle, here in Paranthe Wali Galli, they use a curved pan.

Step 6 - The paratha comes out brown and crisp on the outside, steaming hot
More like a puri than a paratha, actually :) Check out the amount of ghee in the pan!

Step 7 - It is served with accompaniments

You can see their interesting mixed vegetable pickle in this photo. Other accompaniments include a potato and peas curry, potato and methi curry etc. There are some chutneys as well, although I don't know what they are.
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Step 7 - The runner boy pickups the hot parathas and takes them inside the "restaurant"

Check out the guy in the background licking his fingers!

A portable shrine (and a piece of clever storytelling!)

2009-09-20T16:55:00.018+05:30

Have you ever seen a Kavad? I saw one in Udaipur, and I was fascinated by it.
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A Kavad is an amazing wooden painted temple, with lots of panels and secret compartments that fold out to tell a story.
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The Kavadiya Bhats, the Priests of the Kavad, take these around from village to village.

The really fascinating thing is, the story doesn't make sense unless you open the panels in the correct sequence. Why? Because a fair bit of tricky carpentry has gone into the kavad - some panels slide out, some swivel on a stick, some open out like drawers, and still some others are fold-outs...And of course, only the Kavadiya Bhat knows the secret sequence!

So the audience sits, fascinated, as the Bhat tells the story in song and dance, turns the little panels this way and that. Here's one of the panels:

As the story develops, the Kavadiya too progresses towards the inner-most central panel, and the story comes to its logical climax with the final image of the God or Goddess in full regalia, very much like a temple sanctum.

Here's another kavad (about ten feet wide when it is opened out fully). And you can see, at the centre of the kavad, the grand finale of the story - the coronation image of Lord Ram!

Here's a closer look at the central sanctum:

At this point, the narration ends, and, guess what, the audience is required to put money into the kavad - there's a little box for it, a slit in the kavad, specially designed for this!

Ah, what a tricky box of carpentry, and what a fantastic story-telling aid this.

I wish we could bring a Kavadiya to the cities, and ask them to fashion this as an aid for history lessons in our schools. How utterly delighted the children would be!

- Deepa

Ten things that define Delhi (9 & 10)...and 11 and 12 and...

2009-08-23T08:31:00.010+05:30

So finally, I've come to the last entry in the 'Ten things that define Delhi' series. And of course, I'm in a fix, because when you try to define the essence of a big, ancient city like Delhi, it's hard to stick to 10 specific things.

My friend Sanjaya says it quite evocatively: "(Delhi is) many other things for me... Parathewali Gali in Chandni Chowk (a drunk Sadat Hasan Manto on a tanga near where Ghalib might have lived)... The Delhi Zoo in the Old Fort Complex... next to the tomb steps where Humayun died ("He tumbled through life and he tumbled out of it" in the words of Stanley Lane-Poole)... and DU with St. Stephen's College... not easy to list only a few!"

And thus it is for every dilliwalla or dilliwalli. So many impressions, big and small, come together to create a complex, colourful, emotive picture of the city.

For Kirti, who went to B-School with me (beyond all doubt, the leggiest girl on campus), Delhi is about classical concerts at the park between October and March, with glorious monuments as backdrop. I'll go with you next season, Kirti!

Vandita says she likes the unique student culture of North Campus, with its mix of upscale and downmarket colleges. Sandy says for her, Delhi is all about glorious, noisy weddings. Dimple, bless her, says it's the colourful jhumkies and jutties on sale in the shops. Shobna says it's sinful dollops of ghee in winter. For Pooja, with whom I photographed the city, Delhi is all about glorious monuments that spring suddenly round the corner when you're just driving by.

If you really want to understand Delhi, experience it with someone who loves the city. In the last 15 years, I've wandered through Delhi in the company of many wonderful people, on several different occassions...long days spent working, talking, shopping, dining, photographing, finding snippets of history and art and culture...loving the bazaars, hating the Gurgaon traffic...

Over the years, the city has slowly revealed more and more of itself. But just when I begin to think I know the city well enough, something new turns up, and the discovery starts afresh. I suspect the journey will never end.

Older posts in this series:

Ten things that define Delhi - (8)

Ten things that define Delhi - (7)

Ten things that define Delhi - (6)

Ten things that define Delhi - (5)

Ten things that define Delhi - (4)

Ten things that define Delhi - (3)

Ten things that define Delhi - (2)

Ten things that define Delhi - (1)

Ten things that define Delhi (8)

2009-08-09T16:18:00.002+05:30

Shahjahanabad - yeh dilli hai mere yaar...

If you open any Delhi Guide Book, you'll see the city divided into two parts - New Delhi and Old Delhi.

By Old Delhi, they mean Mughal Delhi, Shahjahanabad, the city that Shahjahan founded in the mid-1600's. It was the new capital of the Mughals, a prosperous city of fabled riches, of elegant mansions and gardens.

Two hundred years after it was founded, Shahjahanabad fell to the British. The end came as a consequence of the Sepoy Mutiny of 1857, when Indian troops (sepoys) in the service of the East India Company rebelled and tried to overthrow the Company. Fighting spread across the Gangetic plain and Central India as civilians rallied under local banners and joined the resistance.

Shahjahanabad was the epicenter of the battle. The 82-year old Mughal Emperor Bahadur Shah II - more a poet than a commander - became the frail figurehead under which Indian forces rallied. Indian rebel troops arrived in Delhi in May 1857, routing the small British force which was present in Delhi at the time.

Over the next 5 months, the British (with their Pathan, Sikh and Gorkha regiments) laid siege to the city. On September 14, they stormed into the city through Kashmere Gate.

The storming of Kashmere Gate

The gate still bears marks of cannon.

After a bloody fight that raged through the streets of Shahjahanabad, the Mughal empire ended.

The fall of Shahjahanabad, and the surrender of the Mughal emperor Bahadur Shah, had far reaching consequences. The city was looted, its civilians killed, the Red Fort vandalised...it became a ghost city as many of its inhabitants fled.

Today when you walk into Old Delhi, you can still see the ruined mansions and gardens, vestiges of the once glorious Shahjahanabad.

Zeenat Mahal, residence of Bahadur Shah's favourite queen.

To me, Shahjahanabad is the very heart of Delhi. If you explore Shahjahanabad on foot, then amidst the crazy noise and chaos, Delhi's history will still call out to you. There are so many buildings here, each with a story to tell. You just have to stop and listen.

Previous post in this series: Ten things that define Delhi - (7)

Next post in this series: Ten things that define Delhi - (9 & 10)

Ten things that define Delhi (7)

2009-06-27T07:47:00.001+05:30

If you're like me, and you love all things green, then Delhi can be a delightful city. Just driving along can be a pleasure, with wide tree-lined avenues, each home to many varieties of trees. .

Delhi, City of Trees

Tamarind, jamun, neem, pipal, banyan...all of them provide shade in the Delhi summer, and are refreshingly green in the rains. And it's not just trees - there are parks and gardens, beautiful restful places where you can sit down and enjoy the peace.

Yes, that is indeed a peacock strolling by casually

Gorgeous greenery at the Hauz Khas tank

There are many large garden areas - the beautifully landscaped Lodhi Gardens, the Mughal Gardens at Rashtrapati Bhavan, Buddha Jayanti Park, the Zoological Park, Nehru Park, the Delhi Golf Club...these are home to over 250 species of trees.

But although the large public gardens and parks are lovely, for me, the real heart of Delhi is in the small gardens that dot residential 'colonies'. In these gardens, the elders of the community come for their morning walks, some walk their dogs, some jog, and the children play cricket in the evenings. There are small benches where recipes are exchanged, gossip traded, matrimonial matches made, and much knitting accomplished. I still remember one summer morning when I sat on a porch with my chai, idly looking at the flowering trees of the neighbourhood garden. The coral tree was in bloom, and I watched the mynahs and sparrows hopping around chattering to themselves...what a blissful way to start the day.

- Deepa

P.S. Okay, now that I have defined seven ideas, how about suggesting what 8, 9 and 10 should be?

Previous post in this series: Ten things that define Delhi - (6)

Next post in this series: Ten things that define Delhi - (8)

Ten things that define Delhi (6)

2009-06-12T09:07:00.001+05:30

A very Mughal city

Humayun’s Tomb in Delhi – a relaxing Char Bagh-styled Persian garden area that served as the inspiration for the Taj Mahal

To me, Delhi has always been the city of the Great Mughals.

Babur, the first Mughal Emperor, was descended from the Mongol invader Ghengis Khan on his mother's side and on his father's side the infamous Timur (Tamberlane). The word Mughal itself is derived from the word Mongol.

Babur was succeeded by his son Humayun in 1530. But Humayun was only 22 and soon lost his territories to the Afghan Sher Shah Suri. He regained them with Persian aid ten years later, returning with a large retinue of Persian noblemen.

Humayun's return with a Persian entourage signalled an important change in Mughal Court culture. The Central Asian origins of the dynasty were now largely overshadowed by Persian art, architecture, language and literature.

The Persian influence is still visible today, not only in the monuments of Mughal Delhi, but also in the Urdu language and Mughlai cuisine of Delhi.

Previous post in this series: Ten things that define Delhi - (5)

Next post in this series: Ten things that define Delhi - (7)

Ten things that define Delhi (5)

2009-05-08T08:48:00.001+05:30

.Dilli ki shaan - The Metro!.

The Metro is more than just a Mass Rapid Transit System. It is proof that change can happen, that things can work, that a few good bureaucrats can make a giant difference. Take a Metro ride today!

Previous post in this series: Ten things that define Delhi - (4)

Next post in this series: Ten things that define Delhi - (6)

Ten things that define Delhi (4)

2009-05-06T23:29:00.002+05:30

The Qutb Complex - a place where history comes alive.

The Qutb Complex is a UNESCO World Heritage site that marks the arrival of Islamic rule in India. Built by the Slave Dynasty who ruled India for nearly a century, the complex is a grand cultural statement marking the beginning of a new religion that transformed the country.

In the initial phases, the new rulers demolished Hindu and Jain temples, but reused the pillars and stones, creating structures unique in the Islamic world. Later, Hindu craftsmen and artisans learnt how to work within the Islamic artistic framework. In the Qutb Complex, the lucidity and economy of Islamic architecture meets with the richness and exuberance of Hindu art, to form beautiful and arresting structures.

Go see the pillars of Quwwat-ul-Islam (Might of Islam), the first mosque in North India, and you'll feel like you're in the middle of a dramatic story.

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Ten things that define Delhi (3)

2009-04-26T11:52:00.001+05:30

Number three on my list (perhaps it should have been number one?)

Food ! Finger licking, scrumptious, fattening food!

Whether it is hearty butter chicken, Moghlai cuisine or just roadside chaat, Delhi truly has some amazing food on offer.

This photo is of a very 'standard' meal - butter naan, paneer in butter and tomato gravy, and buttery daal (yes, everything has butter or ghee!). Washed down with a tall lassi.

This is the kind of meal where at the end of it, you sit back a little glassy-eyed and look at the world in a very kindly sort of way.

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Ten things that define Delhi (2)

2009-03-31T10:01:00.001+05:30

But of course, Delhi is all about its women - the gorgeous dilliwallis.

The girls of Bombay may have that oh-so-cool attitude, but it is the women of Delhi who have made formal dressing into a fine art.

I was sitting at the bar at the Maurya Sheraton with two English colleagues a couple of years ago, when we saw a high profile society wedding in the hotel. For nearly an hour, as the who's who of Delhi came for the wedding, the three of us just sat there fascinated. We saw what must be some of the most beautiful women in the world, wearing some of the most outstanding wedding costumes ever designed.

That evening has become one of my enduring images of Delhi. All those gorgeous women, swishing past in exquisite wedding lehengas, expensive jewellery, fancy purses, and stilettos...it was Delhi at its swankiest best.

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Ten things that define Delhi - (1)

2009-03-09T07:07:00.001+05:30

Here's the first one:

All those glorious government buildings

(And outside them, the white Ambassador cars of the babu-log!)

Raisina Hill and it's surrounds are the most visible symbol of sovereign India. When someone says "The Indian Government", I'm guessing many of us see visions of Rajpath, Janpath, North Block, South Block, Parliament House, and so on.

I don't know about you, but this is an image that evokes mixed reactions in me.

On the one hand, there is pleasure at the image of broad roads and beautiful buildings. On a sunny day, you walk up Raisina Hill and see Rashtrapati Bhavan or the Secretariat silhouetted against a blue sky...the breeze blows through your hair and you feel like you're on top of the world.

On the other hand, there is despair at not being able to change the slow-moving and corrupt system. Through its sheer size, the bureaucracy towers terrifyingly over me; I feel dwarfed and impotent. It is like a mysterious machine that wields enormous power. The machine is inexorable, it holds the lives of a billion people in its palm...it grinds on, driven entirely by political intrigue and favour-trading.

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Valentine, Schmalentine

2009-02-14T08:00:00.001+05:30

At breakfast yesterday, my daughter put down the newspaper in irritation.
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"What's all this fuss about saving 'Indian culture', anyway?", she said. "Shouldn't we be more worried about poverty and hunger?"
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She was referring to the ongoing brouhaha over Valentine's Day. The press is full of it - there are those who say festivals like these are foreign transplants, which destroy Indian culture. There are those who stoutly defend the right of people to adopt whatever culture they like, whether it is Western or otherwise.
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It's not just Valentine's Day, but also other Western influences that irk many Indians. Many of us are bewildered by Bollywood videos of near-naked women gyrating to 'disco' songs. Where did these come from, we wonder, these images that are almost soft porn? Take a look at this one - Isqh Khudai, Rab ne Banai. While the lyrics are in Hindi, the setting is undoubtedly Western. The actors toss down tequila shots, the music has strong Western influences, and there's not a salwar kameez in sight.
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Parents and teachers are also coping with the spread of McDonalds, the increasing absorption with skinny bodies, the new mall culture, the alienation of children from their traditions, the growing incidence of divorce, the popularity of chat sites...somehow, all of these are perceived to be the results of the increasing influence of the West (read America) on the world.
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My husband looked up from the sports section that he was reading.
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"I can see why they want to stop this Westernisation", he smiled. "I half want to stop it myself!" (this from a very liberal man who loves jazz and the blues and thinks no party is complete without scotch whisky!)
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"Oh?" I said, vastly amused. "And why is that?"
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"Cultural exchange is great", he said. "But this is all so one-way! How come so little of Indian culture gets exported in the other direction?"
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I thought it was a very interesting perspective. If the West celebrated Indian festivals the way we celebrate theirs, perhaps people wouldn't feel so threatened? Perhaps if Holi became a popular world festival, we'd learn to take Valentine's Day in our stride!
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Anyway, this whole conversation went on and on, the three of us argued the merits of preserving and documenting culture, the rate at which cultural change happens today, historical trends, and all sorts of other interesting things. Finally, we all agreed, like the sensible family we are, that change is inevitable, and we must change with the times; adopting some changes and ignoring some.

Last night, my husband boarded a flight for Chennai, where he is spending this weekend with his parents. Today is Valentine's Day. I haven't wished him, and he hasn't wished me. Looks like I'm not changing my ways on this and neither is he!

No Valentine-Schmalentine for THIS couple!

Someone tell me what this is?

2009-02-02T08:12:00.000+05:30

I found it in the Crafts Museum. It's about five feet tall, I think.

A Mughal love story (no, it's not Mumtaz of Taj Mahal fame!)

2009-01-24T16:20:00.000+05:30

I was born in 1968. At the beginning of that decade, an epic film of sweeping proportions aired in Indian cinemas: Mughal-e-azam. The Urdu word azam means "great", so I guess this would translate as The Great Mughal, or The Great Mughals.

It is the story of the Mughal Emperor Akbar's rebellious son Salim, and his love for a dancing girl named Anarkali. Not a story with a happy ending, though - the story goes that Akbar disapproved of the relationship and had Anarkali buried alive. No one is quite sure if this is historically true, since there are no authentic records. But in Lahore, where Anarkali is from, there is a tomb said to be built by Salim.

The movie was a phenomenal success. I think I first saw it when I was perhaps 10 years old. I didn't quite get it. Why all this fuss about a dancing girl, I thought. But what a dancing girl! The effervescent Madhubala, of the kissable lips and magical eyes.

This is Dilip Kumar, who played the besotted prince Salim. In this scene, he's watching her dance performance. Looks besotted, doesn't he? (I used to be quite besotted with *him*, by the way - but that's another story!)

Mughal-e-azam is the stuff of Bollywood legend. Directed by K Asif (a madman if ever there was one!), this was the most expensive film ever made in Indian history. Tailors were brought from Delhi to stitch the costumes, specialists from Surat-Khambayat were employed for the embroidery, Hyderabad goldsmiths made the jewellery, Kohalpur craftsmen designed the crowns, Rajasthan ironsmiths crafted the weapons, and elaborate footwear was ordered from Agra.

For a battle sequence between Akbar and Salim, 2000 camels, 4000 horses and 8000 troops were used, many of them soldiers on loan from the Jaipur Regiment of the Indian Army. In the movie, Salim's father throws Anarkali into jail - and Asif ordered that real irons be used, not fake light ones. It was Madhubala's greatest ordeal in the film and she was bedridden for days nursing the bruises caused by wearing those chains.

Shooting began in 1944, but was completed only in 1960. In 1957, colour technology came to India, and Asif was immediately galvanised to shoot the movie in colour. By then, of course, the cost of the movie had already reached astronomical proportions, so only 3 reels were shot in colour, and 85% of the movie remained in black and white. When you went to the cinema, it started as a black and white film; then changed to colour, went back to black and white, and then colour again! The movie was recoloured recently, and relaunched in 2004. I guess Asif would be happy.

Strangely enough, I've only seen the movie in bits and pieces. I watched one dance clip recently on TV (from where I got the photos above). It prompted me to write this piece, and now I'm itching to buy the DVD. But I think I'll need to brush up on Urdu before I attempt this film!