Old and New Delhi
India, which appears on the map as a huge inverted triangle with the Arabian Sea to the west and the Bay of Bengal to the east, was one of the cradles of civilization along with Egypt and Mesopotamia. Delhi is the second largest metropolis after Mumbai. This five-hundred-square-mile area of northern India has been constantly inhabited since at least the sixth century BCE, the result of being strategically located on trade routes running from Egypt and Persia to China and Java. Consequently, the city is an architecture lover’s dream, with over a thousand historic buildings still in existence.
Delhi is also famous for having been ruled by a woman, Razia al-Din, from 1236 to 1240, making her one of the few female sovereigns in Islamic history. She favored men’s clothing and would lead her army into battle riding atop an elephant, without covering her face, which was considered pretty outrageous for the time. Razia established schools, research centers, and public libraries and allowed academic works by Hindus to be studied along with those by Muslims. Best of all, Razia would answer only to “Sultan,” since “Sultana” meant that one was the wife or mistress of a sultan. There’s plenty of controversy with regard to how Razia died and where she was buried, but as one of the region’s few female monarchs, she continues to be a rich subject for academics, writers, and filmmakers.
New Delhi is the current capital and makes up one of nine districts of the area known as Delhi but remains a separate territory similar to Washington, DC, in America and Canberra in Australia. The city was designed by famous British architects Sir Edwin Lutyens and Sir Herbert Baker and is known for its sixty miles of wide, straight, tree-lined boulevards, villas with landscaped gardens, mixture of styles, and overall grandiosity. Begun in 1911, the new capital was meant to be elegant and impressive in contrast to the crowded alleyways, chaotic bazaars, and makeshift housing of Old Delhi, and also to let the Indians know who was in charge. The sprawling Viceroy Palace (also called the Rashtrapati Bhawan), with its six miles of corridors and 340 rooms, is larger than the Palace of Versailles, in France. Standing atop Raisina Hill, with a great copper dome 180 feet high and massive secretariat and legislature buildings on either side, the palace is probably India’s best known monument after the Taj Mahal and Qutub Minar. It was completed in 1931 for a grand total of $10 million, just sixteen years before the British would end its dominion over the subcontinent once and for all.
During the three and a half centuries the British ruled India, they transformed its appearance, institutions, and culture. Up went universities, city halls, museums, stately homes, barracks, private clubs, public libraries, and schools, all connected by a network of roads, railways, canals, and bridges. The telegraph was introduced, along with an efficient postal system and, eventually, hydroelectric power. The British, of course, ushered in the game of cricket, which is to India today what hockey is to Canada and war is to the United States: the national sport. Ironically, the countrywide press created by the British became a primary vehicle for Indians to express their displeasure with foreign rule and generate unrest. Partition was especially brutal on Delhi, with its close proximity to the border of Pakistan, and the population of the city doubled overnight with refugees, a shock of such magnitude that the area is still recovering sixty-five years later.
Along with imports of spice, silk, coffee, and tea from India, new words arrived on English shores—verandah, avatar, cheroot, typhoon, bungalow, calico, cummerbund, dungarees, guru, juggernaut, jungle, karma, loot, pajamas, shampoo, ghoul, and thug. A jackal’s wedding meant “a sun shower.” Foods such as chutney, curried eggs, and gingery puddings were introduced to the British diet. And in exchange for cricket, India gave her overlords the ultimate aristocratic game of polo, played with specially bred ponies on a manicured sward.
There were other cultural exchanges. Under the British raj, a number of reformers and missionaries’ wives set up schools for the education and training of girls and crusaded not only for women’s rights, but also to eliminate practices that did them direct harm, such as child marriage and banning widows from remarriage.
In the heart of New Delhi is the very Arc de Triomphe-ish granite and red sandstone India Gate, also designed by Lutyens, which was built as a memorial to the ninety thousand soldiers of the Indian Army who lost their lives fighting for the British Empire in World War I and the Third Anglo-Afghan War, in 1919 (Westerners have apparently been messing around in Afghanistan for a very long time). However, a statue of King George V was removed from the site following independence, and the gate has been subsequently rebranded as the Indian Army’s Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.
The nearby Red Fort is India’s architectural answer to Rome’s Colosseum. This sprawling complex of palaces, pavilions, great halls, and gardens was constructed under emperor Shāh Jāhan in 1638 to house his royal family of the Peacock Throne and make sure the citizenry knew that someone powerfully important was in charge. Shāh Jāhan, the grandson of the legendary Akbar the Great, was a Mughal (also Mogul), an Indian Islamic dynasty that began ruling the subcontinent in the early 1500s and began losing power to the British in the mid-1800s. The structures, which were once covered in gold and precious stones and inlaid with mosaics, are now crumbling, and some have been vandalized, but the fort is where India’s flag was first raised and remains a powerful symbol of Indian sovereignty. It also does a first-rate job of showcasing a synthesis of Persian, European, and Indian architecture, with some whimsical touches resembling marzipan thrown in for good measure. At night, there’s a sound and light show relating the history of the fort, which provides entertainment for tourists and a smooching opportunity for young people.
Across from the Red Fort is Jama Masjid, the largest mosque in India. Likewise built by Shāh Jāhan, Jama Masjid is a splendid example of Mughal style, with its three majestic black-and-white striped marble domes, three great gateways, four towers, two lofty minarets, and rectangular garden. It was finished in 1656, and thousands of Muslims continue to offer prayers there every day. Jama Masjid is located at the start of Delhi’s famous Chandni Chowk, one of the country’s oldest and busiest marketplaces, where you can find just about everything, from famous candy and tea shops, wood carvings, utensils, and specialty saris to currency traders, shrines, palaces, and police stations.
I found sightseeing in New and Old Delhi easy, interesting, and relaxed. Mosque visits require the removal of shoes, and women need to cover their heads and wear “modest dress.” It’s possible to borrow the necessary accoutrements before entering, but if you know in advance that you’ll be mosquehopping, throw a shirt and headscarf into your bag. Modest dress means that arms and legs must be covered, and while it’s fine for women to go around India in short-sleeved shirts, you probably don’t want to strut about in shorts or a short skirt since some people might take offense. (In an effort to avoid mosquito bites, it’s probably best to wear long pants, anyway.)
The soaring stone tower known as the Qutub Minar is the world’s tallest brick minaret, and with its soaring spires and onion-shaped crowns, it’s a wonderful example of Indo-Islamic architecture. A spiral staircase of 379 steps leads up to the balcony, and if that’s not dizzying enough, the building is slightly tilted as a result of an earthquake. However, historians aren’t sure exactly why the monument was built, therefore speculation abounds. One can assume the first Muslim sultan of India, Quţb al-Dīn Aibak, who commissioned the tower, did not know that it would end up marked as a station on the yellow line of the Delhi Metro.
South Delhi is home to Lodi Gardens, a shady haven where Mughal tombs dating back to the fifteenth century decay amidst eucalyptus trees filled with colorful parrots and a popular place for jogging and morning walks. With a total of ninety acres, there’s enough lawn space for tourists and locals to practice yoga and meditate without being disturbed by picnickers, cricketers, soccer players, or the spirits of those interred.
Just a few blocks away is the Indira Gandhi Memorial museum, the actual bungalow where th
e third prime minister lived and did much of her work, and the place she was assassinated. A mounted collection of photos recounts Indian history, and most of her personal effects are just as she left them. It’s possible to see that the bindings on many of her books are cracked, suggesting that Ms. Gandhi actually read them. In the lush and otherwise tranquil gardens, a sculpted river of glass marks the spot where she was killed by her own bodyguards, on October 31, 1984.
For animal lovers, birders, and ornithologists, there’s the Jain Bird Hospital in front of Red Fort. Veterinarians treat sick and wounded birds, which are then fed and cared for and given a safe haven to recover. The top floor houses hundreds of healed and happy birds waiting to be sprung, and the twice-a-month release is a touching, Disneylike sight. Most birds suffer injuries from the hazards of city living, but also as a result of run-ins with kites, as Delhi has many practitioners of this cutthroat sport. Birds are treated with the aim to release them into the wild, if that’s where they came from. All comers are accepted, which is about three thousand birds at any given time, although half a dozen rabbits had managed to sneak in when I was there, and the proprietors say that down-on-their-luck squirrels are also admitted. There are no death panels operating here. The only way you won’t get a big warm Jain welcome is if you’re a carrion bird, since the pacifist Jains are also superstrict vegetarians. Because the bird hospital is part of a Digambar Jain temple, you must remove your shoes before entering, which is a little icky, but it’s not as if you’ll be stepping in bird poop or rabbit pellets—just walking on pavement. Workers are happy to give visitors a tour and donations are appreciated but not required.
While the bird hospital is uplifting, especially on release days, the Delhi Zoo is depressing. It’s either woefully underfunded or else the money is being used to send its operators on Sri Lankan gambling junkets rather than care for the animals and maintain their habitats.
For lavatory lovers, there’s the Sulabh International Museum of Toilets, which offers exhibits and information on twenty-five hundred years of, well, toilets. Considering the number of men I saw peeing along Delhi roadsides, this seems either ironic or redundant. But the truth is that 55 percent of the population do relieve themselves out of doors, and it’s problematic for many reasons. Obviously, the spread of disease is a main concern, but since women have to go behind bushes for the sake of modesty, they run the risk of being bitten by snakes. Thus, proprietor Dr. Bindeshwar Pathak is attempting to raise toilet awareness while helping experts in the field “learn from the past and solve problems in the sanitation sector.” His Sulabh International Social Service Organization has successfully placed more than 1.2 million toilets around the country. However, if one is lucky enough to have a toilet, it’s important to follow the rules of vastu shastra, a system of directional alignment, which appears to be a Hindu version of feng shui and tells you exactly where the toilet should be and what direction it should face for maximum results.
Foodies are in for a treat, as Delhi is rich in North Indian cuisine, which tends to be a bit milder than what you’ll find in the spicier South, with its profusion of chili powder. Chaat, like tapas in Spain, is a plate of savory snacks, though here they involve fried dough, tangy chutneys, chickpeas, onion, coriander, and yogurt, among other things. You can’t have a wedding or a party without chaat. The popular tikki ki chaat is like a South Asian version of a potato latke and is available at restaurants, street stalls, and roadside carts. Chaat is often served on a dried banana leaf that’s been shaped into a bowl and thus is incredibly environmentally friendly.
For the unadventurous eater, there’s Pizza Hut, Domino’s, Papa John’s, Subway, KFC, and McDonald’s (with locations in almost every Indian city). Since Hindus don’t eat beef, you won’t find burgers at the Golden Arches, but you can order the Maharaja Mac with pork or chicken or the vegetarian McAloo Tikki.
If you’re concerned about becoming ill, then stay at a good hotel and order the pasta dish very hot. It’s best to drink only sealed bottled water, but it can be hard to remember to use bottled water when brushing your teeth, which is also a good idea. And steer clear of any raw salads or sliced fruit that may have been sitting around collecting dysentery. For those intrigued by India’s famous roadside food peddlers but circumspect about taking the plunge, it’s possible to whip up your own meethi lassi, bhel puri, paneer tikka, masalas, chutneys, and samosas using the recipes in Street Food of India by Sephi Bergerson.
If you want to see India but you are freaking out about contracting the digestive distress commonly known as Delhi belly, pack some trail mix, PowerBars, pretzels, peanut butter, crackers, canned fish, chicken (or rice and beans), and Fig Newtons. Supplement this with washed and peeled local apples, pears, bananas, papaya, and lychee. Indian oranges aren’t that flavorful compared to the ones Americans are accustomed to, but mangoes, when in season, are delicious. I’ve lived for weeks on this combo in a number of far-flung corners of the earth while heartier colleagues collapsed with food poisoning. It’s a high-protein, low-fat diet that will have you returning home satisfied and slender. Therefore, don’t skip the trip of a lifetime just because you’re fearful of the food situation. I know a war correspondent who survived an entire year in Iraq eating only canned tuna that his mother sent from home.
Taj Mahal
No one should leave India without seeing the breathtakingly beautiful Taj Mahal, one of the seven wonders of the modern world (depending on the list). It is located in the city of Agra, about 120 miles south of New Delhi, and can be accomplished in a day trip. The train is your best bet, with the Taj Express or the Shatabdi Express leaving daily from Delhi’s Hazrat Nizamuddin Station. However, you must book in advance. Most air-conditioned coach trips will make you a hostage to shopping stops, but if you like having a place to leave your belongings and don’t mind browsing or waiting, then it’s not so bad. Agra is a short hop by airplane. Traveling by car takes about three to six hours each way, depending on traffic, and will include several heart-pounding moments that may or may not end in a fiery death.
Note that the Taj Mahal is closed on Fridays. My guide said that it also used to be closed to foreigners on Mondays, because that day was set aside for Muslims as a free day of prayer and picnicking, but they left too many candy wrappers in the bushes, and so that was the end of that. Now it’s open to the public on Mondays, despite what some older guidebooks might say.
The Taj Mahal, which was completed in 1653, is the most famous tomb in the world. The previously mentioned Mughal emperor Shāh Jāhan had it built in memory of his wife Mumtāz Mahal. The Taj is considered to be a monument to eternal love, since Mumtāz was the emperor’s favorite wife, but I’m not sure that modern women equate endless love with being the darling out of a total of eight wives and dying while giving birth to one’s fourteenth child. Still, the Taj is considered to be one of the most stunningly attractive buildings in the world, and on that it definitely delivers.
A Persian Muslim named Ustad Ahmad Lahauri is thought to have been the principal architect of the Taj Mahal, which took about twenty-two years to complete. The white-domed mausoleum is eight sided, with twenty-four arches, a big hall, and a verandah. Mughal architecture is largely about symmetry, order, logic, balance, and mathematical symbolism, whereas Hindu architecture is inclined toward the ornamental and adheres to the idea of shotgun housing, where you add on as necessary. The transplendent Taj is set in a formal Persian garden on the bank of the Yamuna River, which gives an added feeling of serenity and harmony.
The Taj is one of those places where you’re going to be bombarded by guides and souvenir sellers. All Indian guides firmly believe that they were put on earth to help. Oddly enough, “I am guide” repeated dozens of times starts to sound a lot like “I am God.” If your tour doesn’t come with a guide, then there’s a good chance you will want to hire someone to explain the meaning of the Taj’s spectacular inlaid jewels, calligraphy, and elaborate design motifs. I didn’t like that a lot of chi
ldren were selling postcards and trinkets, because I worry that the income prohibits their families from sending them to school. But they insisted they were in school, and a spot multiplication and spelling test proved that the ones I quizzed were indeed getting an education and functioning at or above grade level.
Every once in a while, especially during the monsoon rains, the Taj Mahal springs a leak, which romantics describe as the world’s most passion-filled monument shedding a tear and engineers describe as a leak. These are swiftly repaired by highly trained professionals using equal parts loving care and mortar.
Many people insist that this shrine to love must be viewed at sunrise or sunset in order to get the full effect, but I can assure you that it looks perfectly majestic at midday. However, there are plenty of hotels in and around Agra if this is on your agenda. If not, it’s possible to download photo images of the Taj at all different times of day and install them as your computer wallpaper.
Another reason to be in Agra at sunrise and sunset is to watch the kabootar baz (pigeon flyers) in and around the city sending their birds out on maneuvers. This is an ancient sport that was patronized by Mughals and currently culminates in a weeklong contest every year in which around ten thousand pigeons are released with the object of getting birds from one team to defect to another team. If nothing else, you’ll learn that pigeons traveling together are not called a flock but a kit or a loft.
In addition to the Taj Mahal, you may want to see the double-walled city known as Agra Fort, with its glowing red sandstone, sky-high minarets, and intricate design work. This was refurbished by Mughal emperor Akbar the Great (1542–1605), Shāh Jāhan’s grandfather, and used as a base to govern the country. A quick right turn between the outer and inner gates makes the fort safe from elephant attack, since they need a long runway to build up speed, suggesting that the detail-oriented Akbar really did think of everything.
Planes, Trains, and Auto-Rickshaws Page 3
