24 hours in Delhi

24 October 2009 at 10:06 pm (Cuisine, Drinks, I write., Non-fiction., Places...) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

How we’ve changed! Or has the city? In late 2006, early 2007 I wrote 2 articles for a magazine called Incredible India. It’s been a while since they were published. So, here’s one, read on (and remember, it was written years ago!)…

Delhi. The city that romanced various dynasties; saw the rise and fall of empires since its inception as ‘Indraprastha’; accepted all with open arms and evolved into a melting pot of cultures. A beautiful affair of two cities: old and new – Purani Dilli and Lutyen’s Delhi. A shopper’s paradise and a food lover’s absolute fantasy! A breathing, breeding and completely maddening city. The greenest capital in the world. The city you cannot help fall in love with. The city of Djinns… The city rich with culture and heritage.

The National Capital cannot be experienced in twenty four hours. You need to taste the paranthas and the chaat, to smell the advent of winter and the bonfires, to feel the sun beating down on you, to see the various colours of the capital, and hear the many voices speaking all of India’s languages in one bustling metropolitan. You need to feel the shiver down your spine when you come in touch with history: when you look up at The India Gate. You need to eat ice cream in Delhi winters! Hear the crunch of the dry rusting autumn leaves under your feet. You need to inhale the rare Nargis flowers, and walk in one of the numerous green patches of the city.

Delhi has a lot to offer, so much to fall in love with…

If 24 hours is all you have for this city, I’ll try, only to compel you to return with a few days’ leave. A few glimpses of South Delhi, a stroll in Lutyen’s Delhi (central Delhi) and a tryst with history in Old Delhi is on your itinerary.

9:00 – 9:45 am

Dilli-wallahs love eating out – dhabas, fast food joints, chaat shops, casual as well as fine dining restaurant are plenty. The city is often known as the food capital of India and rightly so. So, start your day with a one of a kind array of south Indian (Tamil) delicacies at the Saravana Bhawan. A restaurant that has become quite a favourite with the dilli-wallahs! Even the ones that are sworn non-vegetarians fall in love with the ‘strictly’ vegetarian food, the ambience, and the friendly atmosphere. The restaurant is hygienic and a fine example of value for money.

10:00 – 11:00 am

Your next stop is the National Museum of History or you could visit the National Gallery of Modern Art. Ask your driver to take a detour and enjoy the sights of Rajpath and the India Gate lawns. India Gate is the majestic memorial to the unknown soldiers who lost their lives in World War I. There is also the Raj Bhawan perched on the Raisina Hill. The city looks truly magnificent as you drive around this area – as you look at the wide roads converging at the India Gate.

The National Museum is the largest museum in Delhi with over 2,00,000 exhibits of exquisite art both foreign and Indian – miniature paintings, musical instruments, manuscripts, sculptures and a lot more! This place is a history enthusiast’s haven. For those who would prefer analysing paintings the National Gallery of Modern Art is a must visit.

11:15 am – 12:00 pm

Delhi is also well known as a shopper’s paradise – choose between a shopping spree at Janpath or the well known underground market Palika Bazaar. For an unbeatable range of clothes and accessories at unbelievable prices you should browse away at Janpath and don’t forget to bargain! A must buy is a pair of kolhapuri chappals! At the infamous Palika Bazaar you can get great deals at electronics, CDs and DVDs. Despite being a Delhite I still get lost in this underground maze of shops selling a range of shoes, and leather goods at unheard of prices.

12:00 – 12:45 pm

After all that shopping, walk to CP’s inner circle and enjoy mouth-watering desserts and yummy chicken patties at Wenger’s – one of Delhi’s oldest pastry shops. Right behind the Wenger’s is the famous Keventer’s milkshake shop! A visit to CP definitely deserves a visit to this tiny shop which still has thousands of regulars pouring in, taking their pick from the variety of flavours on offer here – butterscotch and strawberry are quite popular.

12:45 – 2:00 pm

Another drive is in the offing; one of Delhi’s most popular tourist haunts is Dilli Haat. It’s a favourite amongst tourists, families, and even students for the variety of handicrafts available here and the cuisines from all of parts of India! You can pick from the various food stalls – there’s a kashmiri platter, north India’s most famous offering – Daal Makhani and Roti, there’s chhole bhature and chaat available, and North east Indian cuisine is also quite popular! All sorts of Indian desserts are also available – just pick what you feel like indulging in, although a visit to Delhi without Gulab Jaamuns is unforgivable! To burn all those calories you can look around at the handicrafts on display and even do some shopping. If you are lucky there might be some performance that you can enjoy.

2:00 – 2:30 pm

Delhi has many monuments interspersed with the modern buildings and the various shopping centres and office complexes. It will be impossible to visit all of them in a day, but Safdarjung Tomb is a five minute drive from Dilli Haat. The monument stands in the middle of an extensive garden and is referred to as the “Last flicker in the lamp of Mughal Architecture” in India.

2:30 – 3:15 pm

The next monument you should visit is located on the Bharat Scout Guide Road; the drive on this road takes you far away from the crazy bustle of city life. Humayun’s tomb is the first significant example of Mughal architecture in India. It was built in the 16th century by the Humayun’s widow. The elements of the building’s design are said to be the basis for many Mughal monuments including the Taj Mahal.

3:15 – 4:15 pm

The city is a delightful and eclectic mix of histories, cultures, people, languages, cuisines and a lot more! One minute you are enraged at the insane traffic and the next you are driving on one of the most beautiful roads you’ve ever seen to majestic monuments that take your breath away.

After you are done exploring Humayun’s tomb, it’s time to take a similar drive and experience one of the cultural hotspots of New Delhi – the India Habitat Centre – popularly referred to as IHC. If you would like an evening drink or indulge in a pancake or two, the American Diner is your next stop. If you feel like Dilli ki Chaat or need more variety you can walk over to Eatopia – one of Delhi’s most favoured food courts with a lot to choose from. But food isn’t really IHC’s main attraction. It’s the paintings or photographs on display; it’s the plays, the concerts and film screenings. The amphitheatre transports one back to days of sharing cigarettes and chai and conversations with friends.

4:15 – 4:45 pm

If you need some more of the capital’s greenery, a walk through Lodi Gardens is next on your itinerary! The vast grounds of Lodi Garden were established in the 15th and the 16th centuries by the Sayyids and Lodis, these were then re-landscaped in 1968. There are also several tombs situated in the garden, which belong to the Lodi and Sayyid era, and include Muhammad Shah’s and Sikander Lodi’s tomb.

4:45 – 5:45 pm

Your next stop is The Red Fort for a Sound & Light show. Every evening this show recreates the rich history of the fort. There are shows in English and Hindi, and tickets are available at the Fort itself. Before the show catch a few glimpses of Purani Dilli (Old Delhi). This part of Delhi is starkly different from the city you’ve been trying to explore. It was once the city of Shahjahanabad. Shah Jahan established it and made it his capital. Today, it is a labyrinth of narrow lanes lined with remains of 17th century havelis (mansions).

5:45 – 6:45 pm

The major attractions of the area are Chandni Chowk, Red Fort and Jama Masjid. You can walk around this area but a rickshaw ride through the incredibly tiny lanes is not to be missed! It is now more than 300 years old and is also one of India’s most prominent wholesale and retail markets! It is right opposite the Red Fort and houses the Digamber Jain Temple, with a ‘Birds’ hospital’, and Fatehpuri Mosque. Go ahead and take your pick. And don’t miss the Dilli ki chaat available at various shops or the famous Paneer Jalebi (sweetmeats)! Ask around and someone will guide you in the right direction.

6:45 – 9:00 pm

Its time to start walking towards the Red Fort. Shah Jahan, shifted his capital from Agra to present Old Delhi (Shahjanabad), and laid the foundation of Lal Qila or Red Fort on 16th April 1639. It took nine years to complete this mighty fortress. It is said that its construction took about one crore of rupees! An exorbitant sum in those days, most of which was spent to build the exotic palaces within the fort – Diwan-i-am (Hall of Public Audience), Diwan-i-Khas (Hall of Selective Audience), the Naubat Khana (The drum house), the Moti Masjid and Mumtaz Mahal. The majestic octagonal red sandstone fort has two gates – Lahori Gate (the entrance) and Delhi Gate – as they face Lahore and Delhi respectively.

9:00 – 10:00 pm

After the show, indulge in a sumptuous dinner at Karim Hotel at Jama Masjid. It has been ranked the 2nd Best Restaurant in Delhi, after Bukhara. The food here is to-die-for! The traditional recipes transport you back to the magnificent times of the Mughals. This magical little restaurant was established in 1913. A visit to Delhi deserves a meal here. The sufi qawalis playing at panwaris (pan sellers) and the sight of a beautifully lit Jama Masjid are part of the walk to Karim’s, and prepare you for the food you are about to enjoy. There’s the Ibteda (soups) you can start with and the choices for main course are immense. You should definitely try the kababs and tikkas that melt in your mouth. There are various chicken and mutton dishes to suit anyone’s fancy, and for the vegetarians there is no dearth of options. You can also choose from a variety of rice dishes and a range of rotis (breads). If you aren’t in the mood for rich and traditional mughlai food and don’t mind spending a little extra (and here little is an understatement) then there is Bukhara, at the ITC Maurya Sheraton, which serves delicious north-western frontier cuisine. It has also been rated the ‘Best Indian Restaurant in the World’! The Sikandari Raan and the Dal Bukhara are undoubtedly the best served in India. This restaurant has not changed its menu or recipes for the past 30 years! The regulars, the patrons won’t have it any other way.

10:30 pm

Delhi’s food is exceptionally satisfying but there’s much more to do…! You can head out to various bars or pubs in the city depending solely on your mood. For those who love rock, there’s Turquoise Cottage – The Other Side. This place is usually packed and it is the music (rock, jazz) that makes is exceptionally popular. For those who like their scotch, the Whiskey Bar, at The Grand, beckons. The bar has an exceptional collection of single malts, the largest in Delhi, and also serves cocktails. Another club which has taken Delhi by storm is Elevate. The raised DJ portal ensures that the DJ takes centre stage! The club is spread over 3 floors and has the largest club layout in India. If you like clubbing, you won’t want to miss this place. The pulsating beats and memories of Delhi will mesmerise you…

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Little ones.

16 October 2009 at 8:18 pm (Fiction..., I write.)

They were frail creatures not from our world. They didn’t belong here, they couldn’t survive here, they consumed fresh air and sunshine, dewdrops to quench their thirst and fell-fruit collected from the Garden. They were delicate and breakable; their waif-like beauty was oh-so-terrible. They didn’t belong here, they couldn’t survive here.

The Garden provided them with ample space. They rested in tree-houses and were a romantic, magical lot. Their time was spent studying ways to take care of the Garden: beautifying it, growing it, cleaning it, loving it… They also read, wrote and drank berry wine when they were relaxing. They sang beautifully and danced in unabashed abandon when it rained. They used magic to spin soft, soft cloth for their carnivals and create magnificent armour of the strongest and lightest metal. They even liked accessorizing with silver, at times, platinum. See, they were not of our world.

She was the most skilled armour creator the Garden had ever seen. They said, there was magic in her hands. Some said, she never gave away the correct proportions of metals used for her armour. Others whispered about blood magic. They whispered for it was wrong to pour a part of yourself into metal, it was unacceptable that a creator will create another thing which could live through its owner, breathe through its owner’s skin and hunger for its owner’s enemy’s blood. To let blood be entwined with metal, to use magic to bind life and the unliving was punishable to say the very least.

The metal shone silver, a dark deathly silver, it was smooth and caressed him, clung to him protectively as he latched it on. She smiled at the perfect armour. He stared at himself in the mirror, he felt stronger, calmer and had an unavoidable urge to kill. Instead, he turned towards her and thanked her. She smiled and held out her hand, he grasped it and followed her inside her tree house. She reached for his surrendered hand and placed it near the mouth of a glass vial. She pierced his finger with a thin platinum knife, “it doesn’t contaminate the blood”, he stared helplessly as drop after drop of pure crimson trickled into the vial. A minute passed and finally the vial was full, she sealed it and placed it in one of the many cabinets that lined the curving walls of her chamber.

“This is payment for my craft. Your blood will be used to create strong armours for our kind. After all, the humans are coming…”

“So the rumours are true… they’ve found us!”

“They will… soon”

“How do you know these things?”

“My magic is stronger than yours could ever be…”

“For you have gone beyond silver and platinum!”

She laughed softly and looked deep into his scared, defiant eyes. “And for power, you have too! Donning an armour drenched in old magical blood! Yes! Don’t look so shocked now, you knew the second you comissioned it, you knew when I asked for payment in cash and blood!”

“I… I wasn’t sure…” he stammered.

She pressed the platinum knife against his pale neck and snarled at him, “The armour will not protect you against its maker. Remember that.”

“What in the Gardener’s name…?” he exclaimed as the entire tree house began to shake uncontrollably. The two fell sideways, unable to maintain balance. She grabbed on to the cabinets, these she had nailed to the walls in case of earthquakes. She gave him her free hand and he latched on. And as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Furniture, rugs, her favourite looking glass – everything was ruined. She tried to get up and realised that her beloved tree house lay on its side. It was almost as if someone had snatched it from the tree and placed it sideways on solid ground.

She cringed and voiced both of their thoughts, “Humans”. And then they heard it, a very loud, booming giggle followed by a little girl’s voice, “Mommy! Look what I found? A doll’s tree house!’

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of times past and waiting.

8 September 2009 at 4:46 pm (Conversations..., Fiction..., I write., Love?, Non-fiction., Short Short Stories)

The sunlight sneaked in through the jute blinds, casting soft, lazy patterns on her face. A face which had braved many suns and slept through many nights. A face lined with laughter and tears and a good amount of worry. Her silver grey hair was tied in a neat knot and she was leaning in a chair far too enormous for her. She looked at me with eyes fading from age, dark eyes turning blue; eyes so full of life and so honest, I had to look away.

She smiled a beautiful smile, pushing away years of pain. I didn’t talk much when I was around her, I liked looking at her, listening to her, just sinking in the enormous chair and letting her smile wash over me. Today, she was in the mood to reminisce. Today, was the anniversary of her marriage. She took the cup of tea I offered and took a tiny sip. She looked at me and smiled again, her eyes glistening with un-shed tears. I looked away and waited. I heard her sigh and take another sip of the tea. I exhaled without realising.

“Did you know I was seventeen when my mother told me about my to-be-husband? It was a rainy day and I felt that the news was… hmmm… unwelcome. I wasn’t happy, there was nothing special about the day and Maa, she looked tired. She looked relieved and tired. I felt disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”

“Ah, well… I had read enough stories and enough history to know, no, to understand what was in store for me and what wasn’t. But I was a hopeless young fool, now, now, don’t raise that eyebrow at me.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realise…”

“So, I had hoped for someone who would love me and write for me, I had wished for someone beautiful, a partner. Someone who wouldn’t find my ability to read English, Hindi, Urdu and Gurmukhi a waste. I wanted someone who wouldn’t care that I enjoyed baking more than making rotis, who would tell me stories, write me stories. I love stories, and once upon a time I loved them as much as you do.”

“But he liked stories, he was even published…”

“Shh… let me continue.” She tugged at my ear and winked. I smiled back and put my finger on my lips in mock seriousness. “I wanted to be special, to have a life different from that of my sisters and mother. I wanted to read and continue reading, I wanted to learn more… I wanted to love, sing, laugh and even be allowed to dance.”

“Allowed?”

“It was different then, we weren’t even free in our own country, and women… well, as I said, it was different then. We have a long way to go… But you can choose. You have the freedom to make your own choices, your own mistakes, learn your own lessons. So, as I was saying, they told me about my husband-to-be. He was thirty-two. Shh… no interruptions!”

I stared at her, the words dying on the tip of my tongue.

“He was a business man, he was rich, had a huge haveli and was my father’s friend’s younger brother. It was a suitable match. I was to be happy, I was to take care of his house, supervise a small army of house-help and what not. Understandably, I was terribly upset. So, I sulked in my room and didn’t do anything but read my ‘useless’ books. After about a week of being left alone, I was finally tricked into leaving my room by my brother. He was home from the University. Yes, Lahore University. He was home with a friend and they were being pampered by the entire family. He tricked me with books…” she giggled like she was seventeen again and continued, “he left a trail of books and many clues, the grand prize was a copy of Jane Austen’s Emma! I ran out of my room and followed the books, solved clues, some were silly and some, tough. I had to recite the appropriate Kabir’s doha to my Grandmother and only then would she give me the next clue, which led me to the kitchen. There I had to finish an entire meal before my mother told me softly to look up the forbidden page number 1024 in the study. Oh! Milton would’ve been proud of me! Yes, he was a funny one, my brother… but he got half these ideas from that friend of his. His beautiful, mild-mannered friend, who wrote poems and stories in his black notebook. Well, we had not really seen each other but I had caught glimpses of him from behind the blinds that separated the guests from the women of the house…”

“So, you were in the same house and you didn’t even see each other? How is that possible?”

“Well, it was a big house, with separate rooms for guests, and curtains behind which we were confined. I was engaged, after all, I was to keep to myself… he had seen me walk from a room to another, he had seen me through the lattice, through the purdahs and curtains… but we had never really seen each other… Until that exceptionally hot afternoon; my mother was feeling faint and had asked me to prepare Khus sherbet for everyone. I offered some to my brother and him, that was the day he saw my feet. That night he wrote me a letter, it was a beautiful letter. He talked of my voice, which reminded him of silver, strong and beautiful. He wrote about my exquisite feet,” she looked at her tiny, beautifully arched feet and sighed, “he wrote, well, let me try and translate, hmmm… yes, ‘your slight frame, proud chin and all-seeing eyes could not be hidden behind a flimsy curtain. Your unafraid feet daring to break free of confines have captured my thoughts. I will speak to your brother and confess my love for you, if you will have me. Yours.’”

We fell silent, I stared at her beautiful feet and she closed her eyes. I could hear her breathing, I heard her sigh and shift in her chair. She put her soft hand on my wild unruly hair and cleared her throat.

“You must understand, I never wished to hurt my parents or my brother. I never wished any harm to the business man either. I was young and in love. That night, I read and re-read that letter in candle light. I left my room twice, only to return halfway. I finally gathered the courage to write ‘Yes’ on a piece of paper, I folded the thin sheet 6 times! My lucky number… to be young is quite something, sweetheart, you should enjoy it while it lasts.”

“I do!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, yes, with those cigarettes and that American whiskey. Must be fun”

Sometimes, its best to keep quiet and stare at your own feet, and hope they were prettier. Sometimes, you may utter a tiny whisper to change the topic, “Did you elope?”

“Next morning, my mother asked me to take some breakfast to my brother. I tiptoed into my brother’s room and put the heavy plate on the study table my brother had overloaded with books. I tiptoed to the bed and slipped the folded sheet of paper into his hand, he instinctively closed his hand on my anonymous note. I ran as fast as I could to my room and didn’t step out till my brother came to see me.”

Behna, he had said, in his clear deep voice. I didn’t have the courage to look him in the eye and stared at the floor. His voice, kinder somehow, announced, he’s a poet, a writer. Poets don’t earn. Businessmen do. Even babus do. He is a dreamer, dreams won’t feed you or keep you warm. I kept quiet, but I couldn’t control my ridiculous, weak tears. He stood there, tall and wise. My elder brother. He had taken care of me since our father had passed. He had paid his teachers extra to teach me on the sly. He had given me books, convinced my mother to let me read them. He had taught me how to dream and now, now he was delivering a lecture against dreams and happiness, my happiness. I couldn’t utter a single word. I sat there in shock and confusion. After what seemed like a very long time, my brother cleared his throat and asked, if he gives up his poetry, his writing to take care of you, will you be happy? I shook my head. Ah! But he’s adamant. He has already procured a salaried position, he claims, he can write in his free time. I jumped up and hugged him, he laughed and asked me to stay out of line of fire, while he dealt with Maa.”

“Yes, it was quite a day. My mother stopped talking to me and the business man’s family severed all relations with us. Your Nana and I decided to have a small wedding ceremony once things got better.”

“Your mother didn’t talk to you?”

“Well, not forever! She knew I wouldn’t stop trying and she realised he wouldn’t either! She had to accept or else I would have stayed home even after my nineteenth birthday”

“You waited for two years!”

“Yes, it wasn’t that long… oh! even the business man convinced his family that all was well. He claimed I was too bookish and boring for him!”, she laughed happily and tried to tame my wild hair.

“Naani, your life is like a fairytale!”

“Not all of it… he never wrote me a story.

But certain moments, some memories make it seem like one. Oh! Don’t you worry, my little one, yours will be too. You simply have to wait for the right time…”

And I wait.

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See you soon!

27 August 2009 at 10:40 pm (*Sigh*, Boys/Men, Conversations..., Fiction..., I write., Milestones, Non-fiction., WTF?, Women/Girls)

We’ve come a long way since we last sat here. A very long way, a very long time, a very long tiring walk. Ah yes, a long way. Trouble is, we still don’t know where we’re headed.

So, where do we go from here?

Down the rabbit hole. Twirling and twisting and scraping pink elbows, she falls! Thank God she was wearing a pair of jeans and not some poufy skirt.

What about me? What about these tiny shorts, I don’t want my knees to be scarred.

Ah, so we take different ways. You go on, straight down the road and take a left. Keep on walking downhill till you meet me. Okay?

So, you’re going to jump now?

Yes, I am.

Oh alright then, good luck!

See you..!

Soon?

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We drown.

31 July 2009 at 12:58 am (*Sigh*, I write., Poetry..?) (, , )

So very slowly, surreptitiously you escape me.
Soft smoke twirls travesties in the dead of the night,
Orange spots trailing you, following me, dancing.

You silently slither away, your footsteps unheard,
Dissolving, dissuading a million words, many pleas.
Moisture clings to her eyes, damp, sorry eyes.

Silver spins a web across the dark skies, waiting,
For a grey, another beautiful dark prey to strike.
Writhing and crying in pain, threatening to drown us all.

You shrug, you smirk and walk off to your shelter?
Suddenly, the world sinks around me, silently, helplessly.
Smoke dissipates, bright embers die a hopeless death… I sigh.

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