Perhaps the question all along was not whether I could call Delhi my home but WHEN I would call Delhi my home.
Raju met us at the Delhi airport after a protracted flight from Mumbai. The flow of traffic was brisk; we had a quick drive and were home in 20 minutes flat. How comfortable our own CRV felt, how familiar everything was from the baggage carousel to our night guard coming to greet us good evening. We were home.
Ever the trailing spouse, I joined David on another whirlwind of a trip to Mumbai. As usual, his day was full of to-dos, from a conference morning to an office inauguration pooja afternoon. I am learning to see cities on my own, without David's expert map reading skills and well organized outings. Armed with my Eyewitness Guide, my Nikon, and new found courage, I plan to see all of India!
We arrived Mumbai midnight Thursday. David warned me that the drive from the airport to the hotel could take up to two hours depending on the traffic. Fortunately, our drive took about an hour, partly because midnight traffic was lighter but more because we had a "video-game" driver, weaving in and out of lanes as though if we lost this life, we would have another one to keep us going!
Bombay (from the Portuguese Bom Bahia or good bay), capital of Maharashra, is India's most dynamic, cosmopolitan and crowded city.The city has now reverted to its local name Mumbai, from Mumba Devi, the eight-armed goddess worshipped by the Koli fishermen who were the islands' orignal inhabitants. The country's financial center and its busiest port, Mumbai is also home to the world's biggest cinema industry, popularly known as Bollywood. Although we did not bump into Ashwariya and Abhishek I am pretty sure they were also on Pali Hill Saturday afternoon as we lunched at Out of the Blue. Some 15 million people, from billionaire tycoons to homeless pavement dwellers, live in this teeming megalopolis. Mumbai probably has the largest number of skyscrapers and slums in south Asia, an indicator of the disparity in living standards of its residents. Its architecture is mainly Gothic in influence. The Victoria Terminus, the Prince of Wales Museum, the Rajabai Clock tower and the Elphistone College all exude a Gothic air. On the main road on the drive to Malabar Hill, homes stand, one connected to the next sharing a common wall. Their telltale Gothic windows and tiny balconies are witness to Mumbai's past. They stand side by side as though a house of cards where the ruination of one would surely result in the ruination of all!
Our hotel was located on Marine Drive facing the Arabian Sea (in an Internet ad our room would have been described as having a view of the Sea but in truth, a view was there only if you craned your neck and looked left). Hotel prices in Mumbai are more inflated than Delhi prices and I was shocked to learn that home rentals here are quite a lot more expensive than they would be in New York City! It had been a long day for both of us so we quickly settled down and got some rest.
Mumbai is a long, narrow promontory covering 430 sq km (166 sq miles) which juts into the Arabian Sea. Its downtown is the historic Fort area in South Mumbai, the city's nerve center with its best known sights. The day was already hot by the time I got to the Gateway of India, Mumbai's most famous landmark. During the heyday of the British Raj, it was the first sight to greet travellers to Indian shores; ironically, it also became the exit point for British troops after India gained independence in 1947. I walked around the landmark seeking a good vantage point for a photograph. With the monument's proportions and the fenced off area immediately surrounding it, it was almost impossible to get a good shot. There were touts aplenty. By now I have learned to speak a very firm "nahi" though that is often not good enough to dissuade them. A particularly persistent tout attempted to entice me to a trip to Elephanta Island. He claimed there was a very interesting Jain festival with a thousand men washing clothes. HUH! That I would like to see! But, no thank you.
The red-domed Taj Mahal Hotel stands behind the Gateway of India. It has been rumoured that this Taj was built by a prominent Parsi industrialist Jamshedji Tata who decided to construct it when he was barred from entering the "whites only" Watson's Hotel. The Watson is now a dilapidated building. I walked through the Taj and indeed, its fluidity and hushed elegance is its best revenge! What we can do when someone tells us we can't!
At this point, I must describe my driver for the day. A stocky well meaning man, he drove like a maniac through the streets of Mumbai. It might well be that I am not accustomed to the demands of the streets of this city but please, how fatalistic is he that he must include me into his daring assaults at death! Seeing that I was alone, and perhaps sensing my desire for shopping (which I believed I was keeping under raps), he insisted on taking me to a cottage industry store instead of the Wellington Fountain. His schpeel continued "very good store madam, just looking, ten minutes only." And again, a very firm "nahi" from me. All is well once again. He drives me to a fountain. I happily shoot photographs of this fountain and the wonderfully Gothic structures around it. The sky was blue, white tufted cumulus clouds were above. However, I later discovered that it was not the Wellington fountain he took me to! Aiyooh, we would say in Singapore!
I had my own shopping agenda. I instructed my video-game driver to take me to The Courtyard where an Abraham and Thakore was located. Once again, he drove me to HIS shopping place insisting that I go down and "have a look madam." I try and hold my temper towards people I don't know only because I do not know what evil they can be capable of. I raised my voice slightly and pointed at my guide. He took a quick look, headed out the car to inquire. He came back with a smile, and said, "same place madam. Upstairs, look." And what sign was upstairs? He claimed that the letters that spelt "Apsara" also spelt "The Courtyard!" "Bas!" I put on my fiercest face and repeated my instructions. The Courtyard is a string of lovely stores surrounding a garden. It was very pleasant, posh and inviting. I had barely began to explore Abraham and Thakore when David called and said he had time for lunch.
We lunched at the Leopold Cafe which my guide claims is a long time favorite for travellers and has a wonderful selection of multi-cuisine dishes. I suppose its read on the cafe was true enough. It just sounded much more enticing than it really was: a large, open but darkish hall distinctly refectory in feel. Servings were generous and admittedly tasty. Good enough for a quick meal.
My afternoon challenge was getting around Mumbai on my own. David had his pooja (and thankfully he needed the car and driver) and I had my shopping~and never the two shall mix! The sun was too high for photographs so I decided to explore Mumbai's shopping scene. I re-visited the Courtyard. To get to my next stop, I walked in search of a taxi with a gentle looking driver. I came upon one with a white haired old man as driver. You dilliwallis who think our Ambassadors are relics, have another think! This timeless Ambassador had carpeting on the celing with a twenty-four inch flourescent bulb installed on it. The meter was on the opposite side of the driver, outside the taxi. Does it therefore never rain in Mumbai? Not a bad ride at all for R20! I visited Ensemble, a rather chi-chi shop with a big assortment of sarees. My next Ambassador had black disco lights. What an unlikely adventure! I continued my shopping at the Oberoi then walked back to the hotel.
Dinner was at a charming restaurant called Salt Water Grill. Their menu is almost an exact replica of our Delhi Smoke House Grill. Cuttlery and other accoutrements were almost identical. Food was also consistent with its Delhi counterpart. Located on the beach, under a big white tent, a breeze blowing from the sea, dinner at the grill was perfect.
Saturday was a wet day in Mumbai. We drove around town seeing Malabar Hill, the Haji Ali Mosque, the Hanging Gardens. I squeezed in a visit to Melange, a chic boutique on Altamount Road. We enjoyed the azure coastline and were surprised by a rainbow. A slow relaxing day until we embarked on our drive to the airport. Once again, our indefatigable video-game driver took us to a mall where he said he could park safely. We wanted to have lunch and he wanted to park safely! And oh yes, Madam, "very good store, just take a quick look, ten minutes only."
Ah Delhi, how wonderful to be back!
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Jama Masjid, Delhi
Hoping to catch the afternoon light for a bit of photography, we traveled to Jama Masjid at 4pm this afternoon.
We alighted at the eastern entrance. A teeming mass of humanity crushed us from all sides. Every imaginable item was on sale: colorful beaded shoes for little girls, water proof watches sitting in a kiddie pool, Adidas gym bags, Muslim hats.... I used David as shield for all oncoming human traffic as we sidestepped the rain puddles and fought our way through the throng.
I thought I had steeled myself to the poverty and agony of India. The walk to the masjid shocked me into understanding that there is so much more that I have not seen, so much more suffering that I do not recognize. Shrouded women extended their veils hoping for some charity. Lame and leprous men sat on the masjid steps hands reaching out. Children chased after us, touching my arm begging for chapati rupees. An old blind man made his way through the mob guided by a younger friend. In Aurangzeb's time, this area attracted horse sellers and jugglers: today shoe minders and beggars fill the space. The magnitude of need and suffering on this short stretch is unimaginable.
We walked around the masjid seeking a less crowded entrance. Two hundred rupees for the camera! We were ordered to remove our shoes. David was quickly put into a veshti. My arms were covered with a shawl.
Jama Masjid, India's largest mosque, was built in 1656 by the Emperor Shah Jahan. It took six years and 5,000 workers to construct, at a cost of nearly a million rupees. Its huge square courtyard can accommodate up to 20,000 people at Friday prayer sessions and at Id when it looks like a sea of worshippers.
We strolled around the courtyard, less crowded now and feeling more like a place of worship. Men sat on the sandstone steps, discussing among themselves, enjoying the afternoon. Women and children walked about. Elderly men chose their niches and watched as people walked by. Children ran around in groups. A row of Muslim men squat by the dukka (water tank) for their ritual ablutions.
It will never cease to amaze me that these historical monuments of beauty, now almost four hundred years old still serve their original purpose today. What a gift and legacy from the past! It is wretched that today, the stench of poverty pervades its environs. Shall this be our legacy?
We alighted at the eastern entrance. A teeming mass of humanity crushed us from all sides. Every imaginable item was on sale: colorful beaded shoes for little girls, water proof watches sitting in a kiddie pool, Adidas gym bags, Muslim hats.... I used David as shield for all oncoming human traffic as we sidestepped the rain puddles and fought our way through the throng.
I thought I had steeled myself to the poverty and agony of India. The walk to the masjid shocked me into understanding that there is so much more that I have not seen, so much more suffering that I do not recognize. Shrouded women extended their veils hoping for some charity. Lame and leprous men sat on the masjid steps hands reaching out. Children chased after us, touching my arm begging for chapati rupees. An old blind man made his way through the mob guided by a younger friend. In Aurangzeb's time, this area attracted horse sellers and jugglers: today shoe minders and beggars fill the space. The magnitude of need and suffering on this short stretch is unimaginable.
We walked around the masjid seeking a less crowded entrance. Two hundred rupees for the camera! We were ordered to remove our shoes. David was quickly put into a veshti. My arms were covered with a shawl.
Jama Masjid, India's largest mosque, was built in 1656 by the Emperor Shah Jahan. It took six years and 5,000 workers to construct, at a cost of nearly a million rupees. Its huge square courtyard can accommodate up to 20,000 people at Friday prayer sessions and at Id when it looks like a sea of worshippers.
We strolled around the courtyard, less crowded now and feeling more like a place of worship. Men sat on the sandstone steps, discussing among themselves, enjoying the afternoon. Women and children walked about. Elderly men chose their niches and watched as people walked by. Children ran around in groups. A row of Muslim men squat by the dukka (water tank) for their ritual ablutions.
It will never cease to amaze me that these historical monuments of beauty, now almost four hundred years old still serve their original purpose today. What a gift and legacy from the past! It is wretched that today, the stench of poverty pervades its environs. Shall this be our legacy?
Monday, September 3, 2007
Around India in 80 days
Travelling on business is not at all like traveling for the pure pleasure of it. Trailing David last weekend took me to Chennai after blasting through Bangalore. Another plane ride, another airport, another car ride to spend two days in Chennai. This trip has given me a deeper appreciation of the work business travel really is. My wholehearted appreciation goes to David! Travelling with David has an "Around the World in Eighty Days" feeling! However, now that Daniel and Rachel are off to college, I plan to seize each opportunity to travel and see India. Carpe diem!
We arrived Chennai after a forty-five minute plane ride from Bangalore. Unlike cool Bangalore, Chennai has warmer, Delhi-like weather albeit with more humidity. I felt right at home!
Chennai, formerly known as Madras, is the state capital of Tamil Nadu and the gateway to the rich and varied culture of the South Indian peninsula. Originally a cluster of fishing hamlets along the Coromandel coast, the city developed its cohesive shape under the British. Today, it is South India's commercial and cultural capital, the fourth largest metropolis in India. It is a dynamic mix of the old and the new, its stately colonial structures juxtaposed with modern high-rises.
The Hindu Kapaleshvara Temple opened to worshippers later in the day but was equally interesting from the outside. The temple gate had the typical colorful recursive fractal-like spires. Flower ladies ensconced themselves in front of the large green temple door. They had heaps of flowers and adroitly strung them to make garland offerings for the temple. Along the streets were numerous kiosks doing the same. Flowers were everywhere and a hushed tranquil feeling pervaded the atmosphere around the temple. A bent lady carried white powder and created a lavish rangoli on the street facing the temple gate. On special days, the rangoli became more elaborate and was filled in with different shades of powder. I walked down the street and visited the little stalls. There were bowls of bindi powder, jars of pooja powder, strands of black hemp with crystal terminations to ward off evil spells, turmeric roots for bathing...such an abundance of ritual, color and history in these little stalls! A microcosm of India itself!
Chennai's link with Christianity dates to the 1st century AD, to the time of St. Thomas the apostle. It is believed that in 72AD, a mortally wounded St Thomas sought refuge in a cave on Little Mount. The Portuguese subsequently built the Blessed Sacrament Chapel over the cave. In the 10th century, a group of Nestorian Christians from Persia discovered the saint's burial site and built a church and tomb. This is the present Basilica of San Thome, an impressive Gothic-style structure built in 1898.* I followed suit and left my shoes at the door to say a short prayer. San Thome has an ornate interior with magnificent stained glass windows. There was a scattering of believers around me. All noise and worries seemed to vanish in this reverent sanctum.
We awoke early next morning and departed our hotel at 6:30am to visit Mamallapuram, 58 km south of Chennai. Our driver proceeded very slowly (as if to allow the morning light to escape). He explained that the site opens at 9:00am. We decided to stop for breakfast at the Taj Fisherman's Cove, a pleasant and relaxing resort off the Bay of Bengal. I thought it was unlikely that this UNESCO World Heritage Site would not be open at an early hour. After all, it was in the morning light that would cast the best shadows on this awesome monument. We got there past 8am to find that the visiting hours began at 6am! Lesson learned: do your homework!
Mamallapuram, built in the 7th century by Mamalla was once a major port-city. This spectacular site situated on the Bay of Bengal extends across a boulder strewn landscape and comprises rock-cut caves and monolithic shrines, structural temples and huge bas-reliefs that are considered the greatest examples of Pallava art. The stone-carving tradition that created these wonders is still alive in the many workshops scattered around the village. The spectacular Shore Temple, perched dramatically on a promontory by the sea has survived the ravages of time and erosion.* We marveled at the Panch Pandava Cave Temple. We saw Krishna's Butter Ball, a natural boulder sitting precariously on a slope. Groups of people had their photographs taken in the rolling path of the giant boulder. What belief, what faith, that today is not the day that big rock rolls down!
We returned to town to have lunch with N. Kumar. A smiling man with marvelous manners that put everyone instantly at ease, he met us at the door of his home. Mr. Ajit Singh, Consul-General of Singapore had arrived before us. A little later we were introduced to the gracious Mrs.Kumar, who unfortunately could not join us due to unexpected circumstances.
Kumar hosted lunch at the elegant Taj Coromandel. As I have experienced many times in India, stepping into an upper crust hotel means leaving the dust, dirt, and chaos that is India and stepping into paradise which is also India! While wiating at the Taj lobby with Kumar we peered into the elegant hotel boutique. A mannequin in a salwar kameez stood at the window. Madras conjures up images of flowing silks and cottons blowing in a gentle warm breeze. I commented to Kumar that I wished I could wear a sari. It seemed too daunting a task! From our conversations, I also learned that Kumar is a tennis enthusiast. Ah, a man after my own heart! He has stood on the same court as Vijay Armitrage and has even taken sets off the Indian legend! A few days later, we received an email and Kumar has reserved me a seat at the Chennai Open in January. YES!
Kumar introduces us to South Indian cuisine. A warm silver plate is set in front of us; six or seven katoris (small metal bowls) are arranged around the warm plate. There was an amazing range of imaginatively cooked dishes which I shall not attempt to name. Fish was at the center of the plate. We were also treated to the delicious Appam, a bowl shaped thin pancake meant to be the wrapper for a creamy vegetable dish. I watched Mr. Singh and Mr. Kumar for cues on how to properly proceed with eating the feast laid in front of us. Upon Mr. K's urging, I tried some 'gunpowder' and decided it was not nearly as threatening as its name! What a wonderful introduction to south Indian cuisine, in the most elegant of surroundings with the most gracious of hosts! Thank you, Mr. Kumar!
We had a few hours before our flight departed at 8:00pm that evening. Upon both Mr. Kumar and Mr. Singh's suggestion, we visited Amethyst, a beautiful boutique tucked into an ancestral home set amidst a mature garden. Frangipanis, palms, yuccas, and ferns growing in and through each other in a bramble reminded me of a garden my mother might have tended. Tulsi (basil) grew profusely along the paths. I wandered through the interconnecting rooms picking out kurtas and tops to try, enjoying the experience of shopping at such posh surroundings. Amethyst had beautiful shoes and bags and an amazing collection of silver jewelry. Immediately outside the shopping rooms was a large parlour with tables and chairs scattered around it. Lighting was subdued and relaxed; white ceiling fans gave the home a decidedly British Raj look. A wrap around veranda ran the perimeter of the house. A lady in her purple chiffon kali walked following her daughter in tee shirt and jeans. David and I picked our corner and settled down to read and unwind. He enjoyed an affogato al cafe, a gloriously decadent dessert of espresso poured over ice cream. I decided to be sensible and ordered a bowl of fruit with cinnamon and orange. It hit the spot but I looked wistfully at David and wished I had been decadent instead!
Where ever I find myself, I discover two Indias. It no longer confuses and confounds me. No longer frustrates me. After all, Mr. Kumar assures us, "No one knows India." He adds, "you must accept confusion; only then will you see clarity in this confusion." Soon I will be wise enough to accept India as it is, enjoy all it has to offer. Very soon.
*India Eyewitness Travel Guides
We arrived Chennai after a forty-five minute plane ride from Bangalore. Unlike cool Bangalore, Chennai has warmer, Delhi-like weather albeit with more humidity. I felt right at home!
Chennai, formerly known as Madras, is the state capital of Tamil Nadu and the gateway to the rich and varied culture of the South Indian peninsula. Originally a cluster of fishing hamlets along the Coromandel coast, the city developed its cohesive shape under the British. Today, it is South India's commercial and cultural capital, the fourth largest metropolis in India. It is a dynamic mix of the old and the new, its stately colonial structures juxtaposed with modern high-rises.
The Hindu Kapaleshvara Temple opened to worshippers later in the day but was equally interesting from the outside. The temple gate had the typical colorful recursive fractal-like spires. Flower ladies ensconced themselves in front of the large green temple door. They had heaps of flowers and adroitly strung them to make garland offerings for the temple. Along the streets were numerous kiosks doing the same. Flowers were everywhere and a hushed tranquil feeling pervaded the atmosphere around the temple. A bent lady carried white powder and created a lavish rangoli on the street facing the temple gate. On special days, the rangoli became more elaborate and was filled in with different shades of powder. I walked down the street and visited the little stalls. There were bowls of bindi powder, jars of pooja powder, strands of black hemp with crystal terminations to ward off evil spells, turmeric roots for bathing...such an abundance of ritual, color and history in these little stalls! A microcosm of India itself!
Chennai's link with Christianity dates to the 1st century AD, to the time of St. Thomas the apostle. It is believed that in 72AD, a mortally wounded St Thomas sought refuge in a cave on Little Mount. The Portuguese subsequently built the Blessed Sacrament Chapel over the cave. In the 10th century, a group of Nestorian Christians from Persia discovered the saint's burial site and built a church and tomb. This is the present Basilica of San Thome, an impressive Gothic-style structure built in 1898.* I followed suit and left my shoes at the door to say a short prayer. San Thome has an ornate interior with magnificent stained glass windows. There was a scattering of believers around me. All noise and worries seemed to vanish in this reverent sanctum.
We awoke early next morning and departed our hotel at 6:30am to visit Mamallapuram, 58 km south of Chennai. Our driver proceeded very slowly (as if to allow the morning light to escape). He explained that the site opens at 9:00am. We decided to stop for breakfast at the Taj Fisherman's Cove, a pleasant and relaxing resort off the Bay of Bengal. I thought it was unlikely that this UNESCO World Heritage Site would not be open at an early hour. After all, it was in the morning light that would cast the best shadows on this awesome monument. We got there past 8am to find that the visiting hours began at 6am! Lesson learned: do your homework!
Mamallapuram, built in the 7th century by Mamalla was once a major port-city. This spectacular site situated on the Bay of Bengal extends across a boulder strewn landscape and comprises rock-cut caves and monolithic shrines, structural temples and huge bas-reliefs that are considered the greatest examples of Pallava art. The stone-carving tradition that created these wonders is still alive in the many workshops scattered around the village. The spectacular Shore Temple, perched dramatically on a promontory by the sea has survived the ravages of time and erosion.* We marveled at the Panch Pandava Cave Temple. We saw Krishna's Butter Ball, a natural boulder sitting precariously on a slope. Groups of people had their photographs taken in the rolling path of the giant boulder. What belief, what faith, that today is not the day that big rock rolls down!
We returned to town to have lunch with N. Kumar. A smiling man with marvelous manners that put everyone instantly at ease, he met us at the door of his home. Mr. Ajit Singh, Consul-General of Singapore had arrived before us. A little later we were introduced to the gracious Mrs.Kumar, who unfortunately could not join us due to unexpected circumstances.
Kumar hosted lunch at the elegant Taj Coromandel. As I have experienced many times in India, stepping into an upper crust hotel means leaving the dust, dirt, and chaos that is India and stepping into paradise which is also India! While wiating at the Taj lobby with Kumar we peered into the elegant hotel boutique. A mannequin in a salwar kameez stood at the window. Madras conjures up images of flowing silks and cottons blowing in a gentle warm breeze. I commented to Kumar that I wished I could wear a sari. It seemed too daunting a task! From our conversations, I also learned that Kumar is a tennis enthusiast. Ah, a man after my own heart! He has stood on the same court as Vijay Armitrage and has even taken sets off the Indian legend! A few days later, we received an email and Kumar has reserved me a seat at the Chennai Open in January. YES!
Kumar introduces us to South Indian cuisine. A warm silver plate is set in front of us; six or seven katoris (small metal bowls) are arranged around the warm plate. There was an amazing range of imaginatively cooked dishes which I shall not attempt to name. Fish was at the center of the plate. We were also treated to the delicious Appam, a bowl shaped thin pancake meant to be the wrapper for a creamy vegetable dish. I watched Mr. Singh and Mr. Kumar for cues on how to properly proceed with eating the feast laid in front of us. Upon Mr. K's urging, I tried some 'gunpowder' and decided it was not nearly as threatening as its name! What a wonderful introduction to south Indian cuisine, in the most elegant of surroundings with the most gracious of hosts! Thank you, Mr. Kumar!
We had a few hours before our flight departed at 8:00pm that evening. Upon both Mr. Kumar and Mr. Singh's suggestion, we visited Amethyst, a beautiful boutique tucked into an ancestral home set amidst a mature garden. Frangipanis, palms, yuccas, and ferns growing in and through each other in a bramble reminded me of a garden my mother might have tended. Tulsi (basil) grew profusely along the paths. I wandered through the interconnecting rooms picking out kurtas and tops to try, enjoying the experience of shopping at such posh surroundings. Amethyst had beautiful shoes and bags and an amazing collection of silver jewelry. Immediately outside the shopping rooms was a large parlour with tables and chairs scattered around it. Lighting was subdued and relaxed; white ceiling fans gave the home a decidedly British Raj look. A wrap around veranda ran the perimeter of the house. A lady in her purple chiffon kali walked following her daughter in tee shirt and jeans. David and I picked our corner and settled down to read and unwind. He enjoyed an affogato al cafe, a gloriously decadent dessert of espresso poured over ice cream. I decided to be sensible and ordered a bowl of fruit with cinnamon and orange. It hit the spot but I looked wistfully at David and wished I had been decadent instead!
Where ever I find myself, I discover two Indias. It no longer confuses and confounds me. No longer frustrates me. After all, Mr. Kumar assures us, "No one knows India." He adds, "you must accept confusion; only then will you see clarity in this confusion." Soon I will be wise enough to accept India as it is, enjoy all it has to offer. Very soon.
*India Eyewitness Travel Guides
Blasting Through Bangalore
This weekend, though certainly with its delights was truly a test of endurance. David and I flew out of Delhi very early Friday morning. After a few minutes on the road, my cell phone rang alerting me to a problem at home. We quickly headed back to find the glass door to the dining room completely shattered. Who shall I blame? Certainly not innocent Max who was probably scared out of his wits by the monstrous shattering sound. Is it another one of those unexplainable India phenomena? Realizing that there was nothing we could do, we headed to the airport and put Ambrose in charge of sorting out this disaster.
The flight to Bangalore was full and the best seat I could get was one sandwiched in between two men. Under the best of circumstances, that could be fun but in Jet Airways economy class, that could quite possibly be death! The man to my left in a short sleeved tee shirt had hairy arms which seemed to claim the whole armrest. I was clearly staying away from that! The man on my right felt he had the right to read the newspaper at full spread, invading at least half of my airspace, breathing space, viewing space! When I move up in the world, I will make sure I travel exclusively in business class.
We arrived at the beautiful Leela Palace Kempinsky in Bangalore. A newish hotel constructed to emulate the royal resplendence of the past, the Leela is a wonderful beginning to Bangalore. The breezy 22C lobby was positively chilling for this dilliwalli. David made haste and continued with his day calendared full of activities. I was meeting up with Nalini, an old AT&T friend who summers in Bangalore.
The name Bangalore is the anglicised version of the city's name Bengaluru (in the Kannada language). A popular anecdote (although one contradicted by historical evidence) recounts that the 11th century Hoysala king Veera Ballala II, while on a hunting expedition, lost his way in the forest. Tired and hungry, he came across a poor old woman who served him boiled beans. The grateful king named the place "benda kaal-ooru", (literally, "town of boiled beans") which was eventually collaquialised to "Bengaluru." But forget all that because as far as I know, everyone calls this happening place Bangalore!
Due to its high elevation on the Deccan Plateau, Bangalore enjoys wonderfully comfortable weather throughout the year. January sees temperatures of around 15C while April comes with a high of 33C. Bangaloreans complain that the summers have gotten progressively hotter over the years but that could easily be due to the loss of green cover in the city or increased urbanization.
Banglaore is home to India's tech elite. Cheek by jowl with the noisy bazaars of Bangalore are swanky design and development facilities set up by both multinational and Indian companies. Bangalore, not having anticipated this boom does not posses the attendant infrastructure so that traffic jams and bottlenecks, shortage of power and housing in the city are becoming some problems that now need to be solved. Now enough Wikipedia-ing!
Nalini and I sat at the gracious Leela lobby and recalled the last time we visited with each other. She was my first introduction to India in the early 90s. I give her full credit for helping me see a safe and spectacular Delhi on my first visit here. We keep in touch and our friendship has lasted moves from Singapore, Boston and Delhi (for her) and Manila, New Jersey, Hong Kong, Singapore, and Delhi (for us). Though we never spend more than an afternoon, lunch, or dinner together a few years apart, Nalini is my window to India. She helps me see and understand more clearly all that puzzles me about India. She is my personal wikipedia who so patiently explains the history of India and the today of India. I advise you all to have your own Nalini if you are coming to India because surely she will be your steadying force and your source of understanding.
In Nalini's company, I feel no need to explore much of Bangalore. On the surface, it is a mad city with traffic darting about. Much like Delhi in that respect but with a much smaller feeling. There are no Mughal tombs dotting the landscape, only new buildings to house the many IT companies Bangalore hosts. We did not see Tipu Sultan's Palace nor the Venkataramanaswamy or Gavi Gangadhareshvara Temple (oh yes, by the way, names in the south are so much longer!). Neither did time allow a long trip to the Mysore district. Clearly there is another reason to return. After lunch, Nalini planned on a nice slow walk through the shopping area but the constant drizzle turned to rain precluded that. Instead, we drove through the city and ended up at the Galleria, the posh shopping mall adjacent to the Leela. How relaxing to sit for coffee with live piano music in the background. We continued to reminisce, she continued to enlighten me, and the slow afternoon unfolded. A perfect day in Bangalore!
David's business engagements took him for the rest of the evening. Feeling completely slothful, I settled down in the hotel, curled up under a blanket and watched Nadal battle Tipsarevic. On the 11th hour, I decided to head to the gym and get some cardio and upper body exercises in. Is there anything I missed today? Early tomorrow morning, we fly to Chennai.
The flight to Bangalore was full and the best seat I could get was one sandwiched in between two men. Under the best of circumstances, that could be fun but in Jet Airways economy class, that could quite possibly be death! The man to my left in a short sleeved tee shirt had hairy arms which seemed to claim the whole armrest. I was clearly staying away from that! The man on my right felt he had the right to read the newspaper at full spread, invading at least half of my airspace, breathing space, viewing space! When I move up in the world, I will make sure I travel exclusively in business class.
We arrived at the beautiful Leela Palace Kempinsky in Bangalore. A newish hotel constructed to emulate the royal resplendence of the past, the Leela is a wonderful beginning to Bangalore. The breezy 22C lobby was positively chilling for this dilliwalli. David made haste and continued with his day calendared full of activities. I was meeting up with Nalini, an old AT&T friend who summers in Bangalore.
The name Bangalore is the anglicised version of the city's name Bengaluru (in the Kannada language). A popular anecdote (although one contradicted by historical evidence) recounts that the 11th century Hoysala king Veera Ballala II, while on a hunting expedition, lost his way in the forest. Tired and hungry, he came across a poor old woman who served him boiled beans. The grateful king named the place "benda kaal-ooru", (literally, "town of boiled beans") which was eventually collaquialised to "Bengaluru." But forget all that because as far as I know, everyone calls this happening place Bangalore!
Due to its high elevation on the Deccan Plateau, Bangalore enjoys wonderfully comfortable weather throughout the year. January sees temperatures of around 15C while April comes with a high of 33C. Bangaloreans complain that the summers have gotten progressively hotter over the years but that could easily be due to the loss of green cover in the city or increased urbanization.
Banglaore is home to India's tech elite. Cheek by jowl with the noisy bazaars of Bangalore are swanky design and development facilities set up by both multinational and Indian companies. Bangalore, not having anticipated this boom does not posses the attendant infrastructure so that traffic jams and bottlenecks, shortage of power and housing in the city are becoming some problems that now need to be solved. Now enough Wikipedia-ing!
Nalini and I sat at the gracious Leela lobby and recalled the last time we visited with each other. She was my first introduction to India in the early 90s. I give her full credit for helping me see a safe and spectacular Delhi on my first visit here. We keep in touch and our friendship has lasted moves from Singapore, Boston and Delhi (for her) and Manila, New Jersey, Hong Kong, Singapore, and Delhi (for us). Though we never spend more than an afternoon, lunch, or dinner together a few years apart, Nalini is my window to India. She helps me see and understand more clearly all that puzzles me about India. She is my personal wikipedia who so patiently explains the history of India and the today of India. I advise you all to have your own Nalini if you are coming to India because surely she will be your steadying force and your source of understanding.
In Nalini's company, I feel no need to explore much of Bangalore. On the surface, it is a mad city with traffic darting about. Much like Delhi in that respect but with a much smaller feeling. There are no Mughal tombs dotting the landscape, only new buildings to house the many IT companies Bangalore hosts. We did not see Tipu Sultan's Palace nor the Venkataramanaswamy or Gavi Gangadhareshvara Temple (oh yes, by the way, names in the south are so much longer!). Neither did time allow a long trip to the Mysore district. Clearly there is another reason to return. After lunch, Nalini planned on a nice slow walk through the shopping area but the constant drizzle turned to rain precluded that. Instead, we drove through the city and ended up at the Galleria, the posh shopping mall adjacent to the Leela. How relaxing to sit for coffee with live piano music in the background. We continued to reminisce, she continued to enlighten me, and the slow afternoon unfolded. A perfect day in Bangalore!
David's business engagements took him for the rest of the evening. Feeling completely slothful, I settled down in the hotel, curled up under a blanket and watched Nadal battle Tipsarevic. On the 11th hour, I decided to head to the gym and get some cardio and upper body exercises in. Is there anything I missed today? Early tomorrow morning, we fly to Chennai.
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