For my eyes only

I bought myself a little tube of Mumtaz kajal today. The model on the casing tempted me with her large lustrous eyes. Maybe I should try the exotic oriental look, I told myself.

I flipped the case around. Hmm. Sixty rupees. My sister pays a hundred rupees for her fancy Shehnaaz Husain kajal. And at the lower end, this kind of thing can be bought for five rupees as well. Obviously, Mumtaz was a middle-to-high-end brand. Maybe it was worth trying? Would it give me a softer look?

I looked at the ingredients. The Sufoof-e-Syah had me stumped, but syahi is Urdu for ink, so I figured this Sufoof thingy was the dye that made the kajal black. And Bhimseni Kafoor was probably camphor. Ark Phudina is "extract of mint" - cooling perhaps? Who knows.

All in all, very interesting and mysterious. So I bought it, and tried it, and the results were, ahem, quite encouraging. I think I can face 40 now.

Sri Yantra in Khari Baoli

In a crowded little spice shop in Khari Baoli, I found a Sri Yantra hanging on the wall, alongside heaps of pistachios, almonds and dates. The man in the shop smiled at me in a benign sort of way. Business was brisk.

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The Sri Yantra was drawn on a faded piece of paper, covered with plastic to protect it from the elements. It was anointed with two vermillion dots. Clearly, the shopkeeper believed it would bring him luck. The little shop was filled to the brim with spices; maybe it was the yantra doing its job!

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I've never understood this Sri Yantra thing, perhaps because I didn't grow up with yantra-worship at home. But geometric figures - symbolic representations of divinity or truth - are common to both Hinduism and Buddhism. They are most commonly seen in the traditional rangolis and kolams of women. The most auspicious of these figures is the Sri Yantra. Here's a better illustration of it:

The yantra is, in essence, an illustration of the universe, of all creation. It represents the unity of the male and female principles - if you look carefully, you'll see there are four upright triangles representing the male (Siva), and five downward ones representing the female (Shakti). The little dot at the centre is the bindu, the source of all creation.

Here's a three-dimensional view of the Sri Yantra. I am oversimplifying, but in this form, it is easier to see how you can focus on the Sri Yantra as a way to ascend from the outer material levels to the ultimate reality of the bindu.

Western women and the saree

This week, on a travel advisory column, an American lady asked me a question. "I'm coming to Delhi for a wedding", she said. "Should I try wearing a saree?"

Many overseas visitors to India are fascinated by the saree, of course. The women look at the fabrics and designs, and immediately wonder what it would be like to wear one. "How long does it take you to drape this?" they ask me. "Can you teach me?" "What does it cost? Does it come in different fabrics?" "You think I could wear it? I mean, can I pull it off?"

The questions are very female, framed in a sort of universal language that all women understand. One question that I get asked often is "Do you like wearing it?"...perhaps the person asking wishes to really understand what's going on inside my head...why do I drape six yards of fabric around my body, when I could be more comfortable in other clothes?

To tell the truth, I find the draping of the saree a sensuous pleasure. That final flinging of the pallu over the shoulder, the twisting to look at your back in the mirror, the feel of crepe silk as it goes round the bare midriff - everything contributes to a subtle sensual delight even as you dress for work. The saree allows me to be feminine, to experiment with colours and jewellery, confident that no matter what kind of figure I have, this garment will help me look my best.

On formal occasions such as weddings, saree draping is a group affair. At tea-time, the women of the household exchange notes: "What are you planning to wear?" "Ah, that gold and maroon one? Perfect." "Are you going to wear those ruby tear-drops? You know, the ones you bought in Hyderabad?" By 6:00 p.m., the bedrooms in the house have been invaded by women, there are sarees strewn everywhere on the bed and garlands of jasmine by the dressing table. The women are in a state of sensory exploration. You hear the swish of Kanchi silk, the smell of sandal and perfume, the jingling of bangles. You see the gleam of gold-and-rubies, and you smell the heady scents of henna and jasmine. And then it is time to troop out of the house, and crowd into a car, more swishing and jingling sounds...the car fills with the smell of flowers and perfume, and the women are transported to the wedding grounds.

So - coming back to the American woman who asked me for advice - I wondered what sort of experience she'd have with the saree. Would she be part of a household of women? Or would she have to cope with the saree in a hotel room by herself?

And even if she did have other women to help her, there was still something else that bothered me. You see, I think what makes the saree graceful is not just the drape, but also a certain body posture and walking style. Just as the African woman has her own gait, and the Japanese woman her own, the Indian woman does too. This is what gives beauty to the saree and makes it seem feminine and graceful. I've always thought that the saree is not easy for Western women, whose walk is more of a confident stride, and less of a gentle sway. To add to that, there's the artificial wobble that high heels bring, and the discomfort that is natural to a first time wearer.

So although I wanted to recommend the saree, I was also very hesitant. All things considered, here's what I finally said to the lady: "If you're tempted to wear a saree, buy one and try it in the privacy of your hotel room. Get a little used to it before you wear it to a wedding. Or stick to a lehenga, it's much easier to wear because it is essentially, a skirt and blouse."

I'm still trying to figure out if I said the right thing!

What is it with Indians and tinsel?

I am constantly amazed by the Indian fondness for kitschy, shiny stuff. There is not a single part of India where your senses are not overwhelmed by colour and tinsel.

Take this shop in Kinari Bazaar, for example. They sell garlands for weddings, festivals and other assorted uses. Whoever their supplier is, obviously they've achieved the happy bliss that only shiny plastic can deliver!

The shops do brisk business. This is obviously the right place for traditional stuff, so most of middle-class Delhi comes here for all those special things you need just for weddings - gift bags, gift envelopes, little give-aways, jewellery boxes. In most of the shops, you can order in bulk, depending on the number of guests you have planned for the event. Payment is, by and large, in cash.

But it's not just wedding shoppers who come to Kinari Bazaar. Most of Delhi's female population comes here as well. Housewives and teenagers, designers and bargain shoppers, they walk through these lanes looking for sequins and buttons and little bits of fancy embroidery to make their own fashion statement.

If you go on the Delhi Magic Old Delhi Walk, ask the guide to show you these shops. And check if the tinsel tempts you!

Season of Passion

It is winter in Delhi. Children shiver as they dress for morning school. Women bring out their embroidered shawls. In the markets, men huddle together sipping hot tea. The bonfires of the Lohri festival burn brightly, and the heat is very welcome. The city waits in longing for warmer days.

But I guess it takes a poet like Kalidasa to see winter in a different light. To Kalidasa, winter isn't something to grit your teeth against - it is the season of passion. It is the season of long nights in warm scented beds, of beautiful curvaceous women and amorous husbands.

In the 5th Century, Kalidasa wrote Ritusamhara (The Gathering of Seasons), a richly descriptive, evocative and sensuous description of each season in the year. Here's the section from the Ritusamhara on Winter:

Stacks of ripe rice and sugarcane cover the earth
the air rings with the hidden call of curlews
love grows exuberant: Dear to lovely women,
winter is here now; listen my love

Cold, cold, with heavy dews falling thick,
and colder yet with the moonbeams' icy glitter,
lit with ethereal beauty by wan stars
these nights give no comfort.

Wives eager for love, their lotus-faces
fragrant with flower-wine, enter their bedchambers
aromatic with the incense of black aloes
taking betel rolls and garlands and hot perfumes

With breasts held tight by pretty bodices
thighs alluringly veiled by richly dyed silks
and flowers nestling in their hair; Women are
the adornment of this wintry season.

Young women in gay abandonment drink at night
with their fond husbands, the choicest wine
most delicious, exhilarating
heightening passion to its pitch:
the lilies floating in the wine deliciously
tremble under their fragrant breath

At dawn when the rush of passion is spent
one young woman whose breast-tips are tight
from her husband's embrace, carefully views
her body fully enjoyed by him
and laughing, she goes from the bed-chamber
to the living apartments of the house.

Another loving wife leaves her bed at dawn
elegant and graceful, slender waisted,
With deep navel and curved hips;
the splendid mane of hair with curling ends
flows loose; the wreath of flowers slips down.

With faces radiant as golden lotuses
and long liquid eyes; with lustrous red lips
and hair playing enamoured around their shoulders
women shine in their homes these frosty mornings,
resembling the Goddess of Beauty.

This wintry season that abounds with sugarcane
and sweet rice and palm sweet dainties
when Love waxes proud
when love's sport is at fever pitch;
when the anguish of parted lovers is intense;
May this season be to you ever auspicious.

Ritusamharam is not simply a description of Nature. As Chandra Rajan says, "it is an interweaving of the beauty of nature and woman, with the emotional response to both". Kalidasa sees nature, not as a backdrop, but as an active participant. Breezes consort with lotuses, the moonlight and stars kindle passion in men, the sight of green fields and the call of the winter birds awaken love.

If you'd like to read Ritusamharam, try Kalidasa, the Loom of Time from Penguin Classics. It is a selection of his plays and poems, including Meghadutam and Abhignyanasakuntalam.

Kada Seller at Sees Ganj

Outside the Sees Ganj Gurudwara, I saw this woman selling iron bracelets. The bracelets are kadas, worn by the Sikh community as a symbol of strength and self-restraint. All Sikh men wear them, and I've seen women wear them too.

Sikhism is among the world's most progressive religions, with respect to women's rights. Guru Nanak, the founder of Sikhism, stated quite clearly that all men and women are equal. Sikh women are expected to participate in daily and religious life in the same way as men. All occupations are open to a Sikh woman, including participation in congregation, academics, healthcare and military.

But what fascinates me about Sikhs, actually, is that they have gender-neutral first names. Sikh women use the same first names as men. Further, Sikh women dont have to take their fathers' or husbands' name. In 1699, the Sikh Guru Gobind Singh gave all Sikh women the last name 'Kaur' which means Prince. So Sikh men and women have similar first names, and Sikh women add Kaur to signify that they are female (men add Singh', which means Lion).

Since traditional Indian surnames reveal a person's caste as well as community, the common surnames were Guru Gobind Singh's attempt to end the social stratification and caste apparatus of Hinduism. The Kaur was also an attempt to give women an identity independent of their fathers and husbands.

And while there's a difference between intent and reality, you gotta hand it to the Sikhs for standing up and making the effort!

Model, Chandni Chowk

I bet none of the Mughal queens were this skinny.

When I was growing up, it was women like these who set the standard, thank god :)

Why are foreigners charged more?

A lot of people ask me why there are different entrance ticket prices for foreigners and Indians at many Indian monuments and sites, specially the Taj. Here are my thoughts:

If you are not an Indian passport holder, and you buy the combined ticket of EUR 12.5 for Taj Mahal and Agra Fort, two UNESCO World Heritage Sites, it works out to EUR 6 or so per attraction.

Here's a comparison with other sites, from a mix of developing as well as developed economies:

• Tickets to Machu Pichu in Peru are EUR 18.
• Tickets to Angkor Wat in Cambodia are EUR 10.
• The entrance ticket to the Colosseum in Rome is EUR 16 for non-EU nationals, and there is a discounted price offered to EU Nationals of EUR 11.
• Tickets to the Leaning Tower of Pisa are also EUR 16 at the moment
• Tickets to the Giza Plateau and at least one pyramid - say Khufu - cost EUR 18.
• Entrances to the Forbidden City in China are only EUR 4 (but that may be because the exchange rate is artificially held by the Chinese goverment).

So - after looking at these prices, my conclusion is - I don't think the Government is significantly overcharging tourists for the Taj / Agra Fort experience.

As far as the differential pricing for Indians is concerned - The Government of India subsidises tickets for Indians to promote our heritage and create more interest / awareness / national pride. Additionally, in a poor country, there is no way the man on the street can afford the kind of the prices that these monuments deserve. This is a dent in the Government coffers, but it is a decision in the national interest which the Tourism department has the right to make.

There is obviously a case to be made for levying flat fees for everyone - Indian or foreign - and I've heard that they're considering flat fees of INR 250 or so. But honestly, if you've been to Taj and seen the number of poor people that come there - none of them could afford this.

In any case, until we hear any decisions, all that I think you should ask yourself as a tourist is - am I paying a fair price i.e. did I get my money's worth at these two monuments for EUR 6 per monument?

I think the answer is likely to be a yes.