by Aline Dobbie
Farewell after our final ride in Corbett National Park
When we reached the lovely wide reaches of the river she liked to stand in the water, cool her feet and drink copious amounts. It occurred to me that, had she felt playful, we could have been showered as well but she was wonderful and, with just three of us on her back and the mahawat who communicated in Hindi, it was a special experience. On an elephant, one could approach really close to sambhar, chital and other animals. They did not mind the proximity because of course there was no noise, except perhaps a munching elephant. Our companion was a quiet Englishman. Another elephant came into view with an Indian trio; they too were quiet and appreciative. Interestingly, their elephant knelt down whilst in the river bed for one of the men to go off and have a pee. It is not quite so easy to jump off and climb on again without some steps, jeep or elephant mounting block. He used the rear end to scramble up again but I might have found that a real challenge with my spinal problems; the simple answer is do not drink too much early morning tea before you go out! We saw a lovely hare with his long ears which sprinted away once he saw us. There are good forest lodges or old colonial bungalows inside the park so one does not have to live outside and indeed, for the dedicated game viewer, this would be the way to do it. When we ‘disembarked’ from our jungle vehicle, Graham put a tip for the mahawat in Jaisari’s trunk tip, and she sweetly lifted her trunk and handed it to the man but we thought he looked a little apprehensive so perhaps from time to time in the past she has gobbled it up?
Once back in the jeep, the pace hotted up and we heard a chital deer calling urgently. It was obvious that a tiger was very close but we never did get to see him. In Corbett, tigers are reputed to be more elusive but it is a lovely place, six hours drive from Delhi, so in many respects the most accessible of the big parks.
This was sadly the end of our wildlife viewing. We had been travelling constantly since our arrival three weeks ago and we needed to relax and lessen the pace. I am so glad that we had that long elephant ride at Corbett. I would have loved to go out again but that afternoon chose to relax by the pool with good food and my notebook. It was a little cool for swimming but just to sit in the winter sunshine with the clear blue sky, brown hills, green bamboos with bright yellow stems, mixed with rams horn poinsettias, Australian bottle brush trees and orange cestrum bushes, and to hear and watch the busy bird life, like the parakeets flying overhead, made for a restful experience.
The six-hour drive back to Delhi early the next morning was uneventful except that we again experienced appalling road surfaces, quite as bad as anything in Madhya Pradesh. It seems incomprehensible to us that Uttar Pradesh and Uttaranchal have not together improved the main roads to major tourist destinations. In some parts, the road whilst still in Uttaranchal has almost completely disappeared and, therefore, any modern car, other than four-wheel drive, has a heavy challenge. Our vehicle succumbed to a puncture. Fortunately, Kishore replaced the wheel but it is company policy with Travel House that the driver must immediately have the punctured tyre repaired. Mercifully, the hotel at which we had stopped with Satish Kumar was just up the road so we stopped off for the usual omelette and tea and, yes, this time the bearer had enough eggs for us both! It was a half-hour stop and Kishore reappeared with the tyre duly repaired, for which we were very grateful and relieved as we were anxious to reach our destination in Delhi in time for lunch with Satish and Saroj Kumar.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Phir Milengi to Delhi,
Namaskar to Mumbai
The pace in Delhi was fast and furious, starting with lunch at the home of the Kumars. We gave Kishore some money and told him to go and have a good meal and a rest. Saroj had put on a veritable feast and it was lovely to be with them all. Their first darling little grandson had been born at the beginning of September and Satish is a besotted grandfather. I loved watching him talk nonsense to the little baby, who already, quite obviously, had his grandad wrapped round his little finger. As a grandparent myself I know the special love one feels for these little ones a generation on from experiencing parenthood first hand. A serene child in a stable happy closely knit family, surely that would be the ideal for children the world over but, sadly, it seems to be now a precious gift not an accepted right.
After our fond farewells, we raced off to The Imperial Hotel for a little jewellery shopping. I love that hotel with its peaceful ambience of graceful marble halls, tinkling fountains and sumptuous décor. The old ballroom looks very grand and would be a place I would choose for a reception. The tall elegant palm trees that still line the drive maintain the grace of another era. Our jewellery shopping spree was very successful and Ajay Narain’s shop in The Imperial is one I would recommend to anyone. Sadly, I had the misfortune to have something quite precious stolen during the trip – I still know not exactly where – but I had the good sense to talk to the jeweller and ask him to make me something precisely similar, which they have done. Obviously, it could not be completed in one day and I was leaving in 48 hours but it was sent on to me by DHL. The Indian version is charming and, naturally, has an Indian twist to the design whereas the original had been bought in Prague.
We arrived back at Annie and Martin’s home and loved our welcome back to a home from home. I had found some tiny silver bracelets for little Yashodi which were well received with a smothering of kisses. Wise child, she put one bracelet on but observed firmly that she would keep the other for later! She may be Nepalese but she could have been a careful Scot – it takes one to know one!
We agreed to meet back for dinner but sped off for drinks with the engaging Bhatia family. Again, one experienced that pleasurable feeling of being in the midst of a big caring family in their elegant home. The trouble with Indian hospitality is that it is so generous one would be round as a ball if one ate everything that was offered.
Satish Kumar with his beloved first grandson
We had a relaxed supper with Martin and Annie and caught up on all Tikli Bottom’s news and then sadly Graham had to leave for the airport after weeks of excellent and memorable fun. I was so sad to see him go and felt guilty being in a comfortable bed whilst he was languishing in the departure lounge of Indira Gandhi airport for a 0400 hours British Airways flight back home.
The following morning found me with a breakfast business meeting at The Maurya Sheraton, which is when I was actually shown round the presidential suites. As I said this hotel is seriously good. There were a couple of business meetings to keep in the city but I was back for lunch at The Maurya and, therefore, was able to go into Maharani of India and order up a lovely evening outfit made of different silks of my choice. The assistants took meticulous measurements and when the finished garments were sent to me courtesy of DHL for which I paid of course, they were lovely. If one has the time, it is better to have a fitting or see the completed garments in the shop but I took a risk and am satisfied with my outfits. The workmanship is excellent. I plan to wear this beautiful jacket at our younger son Stewart’s wedding to Corinne in December 2004. It will be a wonderful day.
That evening I had a last supper with Annie who had invited an old and very interesting friend. The following morning, Yash came in wearing her school uniform and said goodbye to me. Annie and I watched her mount the pommel of her uncle’s large motorbike with him and his girlfriend riding pillion and drive off to school. It worried me to see the little girl without a helmet and I winced inwardly at what could befall her, but this is India and people live without ifs and buts. I felt a lump in my throat because she is a bright little girl, an example of what cherished daughters can be in a land where still there is this short-sighted preference for the male. The ‘Yashodis’ of the new India with their multilingual skills and agile minds absorbing cross-cultures is what will give India its intangible wealth in the years to come. I will always remember the way she says goodbye. She likes to take your face in her hands and kiss you all over. I had to take a photo which has developed nicely. The
little mite and her cheeky acceptance of what the world offers her as she impatiently said to her uncle ‘Come on, uncle, let us vroom vroom!’ and they roared off and were swallowed up by Delhi’s snarling morning rush hour. However, at lunchtime when her English medium school finishes she is walked home by Anjoli and I can imagine her as I write at my keyboard; if she were here she would be bossily pushing me away and taking over the whole desk to draw a picture or perhaps write a chapter on her own.
I said my farewell to Annie who was rushing off to Tikli and had a quick meeting with someone who came and had tea with me, then it was a thank you to Anjoli for looking after us and away to the domestic airport. I felt sad; the Howard hospitality is legendary and for me will always act as a welcome haven in a bustling city. Delhi is a city in which I feel comfortable. Admittedly, it has its problems and at the time there was an outcry about the rape of a medical student. Since then, I have read of other cases of rape and car hijacking but much of this happens elsewhere in the West, let alone the East. Here, in little Scotland, with a minute population of under five million we have some awful occurrences in Greater Glasgow and the Central Belt. It might astonish outsiders but we have a real ‘badlands’ culture round North Lanarkshire and some of the Scottish Executive’s statistics on various forms of crime are very depressing reading.
Kishore had looked after me faithfully, for which I was grateful. I gave him a good tip and said I hoped we would meet again. There are good and bad people everywhere. When I checked in I was accompanied by the baggage handlers, three of whom seemed to be competing for my business. In a trance, somehow I left my handbag and turned to go, complete idiocy on my part, and the leader of the three said ‘Ma’am, what are you doing, surely this is your bag?’ I thanked him profusely and gave them a good tip.
Jet Airways was my choice for the flight down to Mumbai. It was a good one. This airline is very impressive in many different ways. They had recently won an award for best domestic airline and I can see why. Efficient, courteous, running a little ahead of schedule, a well-appointed plane with delicious food beautifully presented with thoughtful touches like nimbu pani (fresh lime and water) to drink, as well as other beverages. We landed early and I rate them highly. Their security checks were throuogh and courteous but not officious.
I have been reproached gently by my friends for being critical of Mumbai so I resolved to look at it again with a more objective eye. A driver and car met me which was as ever efficiently arranged by The Travel House which has offices throughout India. As we drove in the evening light, I thought that perhaps it was looking a little better in the famous areas than on my last visit four years ago. The beach, Chowpatty Beach, actually looked as if the municipality had cleaned it and did so regularly. This is not a place from which to swim – I shudder at the very idea of the polluted water one would experience – but it is the place for people of all ages to entertain themselves in an Indian form of the ‘la Passeggiàta’. In Calcutta, or Kolkata as it now is, is the maidan or big lawn or park, the place for taking the air, family togetherness, children playing, picnics and so forth. In Delhi, that happens around the grand imperial architecture of Lutyens’s Delhi in the great swathe of lawns down from the Secretariat and Rashtrapati Bavan, the President’s Palace, as far as India Gate, the War Memorial. Here, in Mumbai everything is spread out round the bay.
Early evening transforms the whole area as the lights come on and twinkle and bestow some magic. When I used regularly to fly into and out of Mumbai as a teenager, the Queen’s Necklace was a lovely landmark from the plane. Over forty years on, however, this is a teeming city of over 20 million people and there is a frenetic air to the place and the feeling that it never actually sleeps. The majestic Gateway of India continues to look majestic, but it must have been awe inspiring for the young hopefuls in the time of empire when they arrived by steamer. All the young men from Britain, whether they were military officers or in the very junior ranks of the Indian Civil service, arrived here to commence their service and careers in India. So too did the famous ‘fishing fleet’ of young ladies intent on catching a young promising husband. How totally different it was from the lives of the young of today, who are under no such matrimonial pressures in Western culture. Thank goodness, what misery scores of people must have endured through hasty marriages often of convenience to save ‘face’, or cement dynasties or promotional ambition.
The Gateway of India – Mumbai
The great historic arrivals of the various royal dukes and princes and, finally, the King Emperor and his Queen must have been wonderful spectacles. I own archival photos of the occasion and the year was significant because my mother was born in 1911 and our old cook Din, as a very young man, witnessed parts of the famous Delhi Durbar. The Gateway of India was actually built in 1924 as a monument commemorating the imperial visit. Queen Mary’s account in her diaries of her visits to India, are actually quite amusing and bring such a human touch to it all. The other historic landmark near the Gateway of India is The Taj Hotel. This was built by the great Parsi gentleman J N Tata as an act of defiance because he had been cruelly snubbed and not allowed entry to the then leading hotel called Watson’s. Suffice to say that the latter has long gone and I had to look up the name, whereas The Taj and the hotel group are known worldwide. This was such a symbol of empire and I considered it a bit like a mausoleum when very small, but now of course it is beautiful inside with a fusion of old and modern. Victorian Gothic architecture is seen quite generally in central Mumbai and these buildings have gradually been sympathetically renovated. This work, I am told, has not been done by a sensible municipality attempting to improve its image but by non-governmental organisations which raise the money for the face lift.
Victoria Terminus, now known as the Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus, completed in 1888, is a marvellous eccentricity and considered to be perhaps the greatest railway station every built by the British. Now (July 2004), it has been given World Heritage status and must surely be the world’s only functioning railway to receive that accolade. Its architect, Frederick William Stevens, would be delighted and astonished that his sandstone creation is now ‘rubbing pillars’ with the legendary Taj Mahal. Although Stevens supervised the project, two Indian engineers: Sitaram Khanderao, the PWD (Public Works Department) assistant engineer, and Madherao Janardhan, the PWD supervisor, share responsibility for this amazing building. Thus, it is an integration of Victorian Gothic, Mughal and Gujarati architecture. Indian railways now have to fulfil their commitment to restore and maintain what could become a civic and tourist icon for Mumbai and an inspiration for further conservation of other great buildings.
The Taj Hotel – Mumbai
The Prince of Wales Museum is a splendid example of Indo-Saracenic architecture but it is really now called the Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya – well, you can understand why it is still known as The Prince of Wales Museum! Just alongside The Prince of Wales Museum, there is the Jehangir Art Gallery which is also worth a visit as this is a showcase for contemporary art and some items are for sale. Crawford Market is another tourist destination, being one of the few remaining covered markets built in British times with its huge Norman Gothic tower serving as a landmark. I can imagine that people would find this an interesting experience with literally everything on offer from food to animals and everything in between. I prefer the New Market in Kolkata which is very similar but had to be rebuilt because of a fire a couple of decades ago. I wrote about it in my first book.
I am trying hard, my friends, but I cannot honestly say that I find Mumbai a good tourist destination. It is, however, a bustling enthusiastic city of go-getters and its night life and choice of bars and restaurants is legendary. There are a huge number of Indian millionaires resident in this metropolis and the social elite have a very sophisticated life.
Beautiful ancient bronze sculptures in the Prince of Wales Museum Gardens – Mumbai
Hospitality here is mostly warm and generous, though o
ccasionally one finds oneself amongst people who have little depth and appear to be consumed with material competition. In the hot weather, it is just too hot to move so the Mumbai social scene whirls into action in October/November and that is also the beginning of the traditional wedding season. What I do like about Indian dinner parties is the vigour of the conversation and the wide range of topics whereas some European entertaining is so circumspect and cautious and you come away from a dinner thinking ‘what was the point of that?’ Here in Mumbai, wealthy informed successful people who travel widely and usually have some family members who live permanently overseas, have definite and interesting opinions and I find that invigorating. It has to be said, however, that entertaining is made a whole lot easier if one has a bevy of servants to lay it all on as is the case in the wealthy Indian homes.
Domestic households here have at least three indoor servants at the wealthy end of the social spectrum, plus a driver and dhobi who does the major laundry; plus, of course, the sweeper, who is always from the untouchable Dalit caste. To western eyes it can seem a rigid set of customs but that is India and you or I are not going to change it. That does not mean, however, that in one’s dealings with all of these people one has to be anything less than generous in spirit. The old adage of ‘treating others as one would like to be treated’ works very well in India. I make a point of always greeting everyone, often to the complete surprise of a sweeper – she is doing a vital job whether in a public or private place. If I can make her day a happier one I will enrich my own. In the old fashioned flats or apartments, provision was made in the design for servant accommodation, whereas in the modern apartments penny-pinching greed has not made provision for them, yet people continue to employ staff. These people are then expected to sleep in the hallways without any sanitation provided, and then the inevitable happens – 18 storeys up, who is going to go down to the ground for a pee at night? It sounds so selfish and horrible and makes me think of the uncaring way domestic staff was treated in the West up to the Second World War over sixty years ago.
