I discover a world of anklets and toe rings

I'm just back from another trip to Rajasthan, and I've brought back some keepsakes - silver toe rings and a chunky silver anklet. I bought them from the airport shop in Jodhpur. Stupid, I know, because everyone knows an airport shop is overpriced. But they were irresistible, you know?

You see, all through my two Rajasthan trips this month - and through previous trips - I have been looking at the local women and their feet. And their anklets have me completely mesmerised.

Like this Rabari woman, so confidently striding past me with her camels. On her feet she wore torn canvas shoes; but above them were solid anklets of silver. Two anklets on each foot, with a solid-sounding clink.

And check out these women at the "haunted" town of Bhangarh - the older woman wore a thick anklet that was welded together, she said they would never come off as long as she lived. I have never seen toe rings like the ones she wore either, they were on her big toe.

More recently, I found these cute small toe rings peeping from under the skirt of this lady near Osiyan.

At Rohet, I met this Bishnoi elderly woman, with a weather-beaten anklet.

Even the little girls have anklets on their feet. This pair of sisters are from a shepherd's family near Jodhpur.


On the highway from Delhi to Agra, at the restroom of Maharaja restaurant, this sweeper woman had jingling anklets, and shiny toe rings.

Close-up of her feet. They say the French woman announces herself with perfume. The Indian woman, you can hear her presence before you see her.


And check out this woman with the red skirt at the Clock Tower market in Jodhpur. See the anklet on that jaunty foot?


With all that silver around me, clinking and jingling, how on earth was I to resist ? I gave in, and I have to say, I'm delighted with the results.

This little bit of Rajasthan is going to stay with me, folks!

I learn about the Trees of Delhi

Every time I drive past the shady avenues of Lutyens Delhi, I look at the trees lining the roads, and wonder what they are.

Are they local trees, native to Delhi, planted in straight lines along the avenues when Imperial Delhi was created? Or have they been imported from elsewhere? When do they flower? How are they pollinated? What happens to the fruit? A zillion questions; and no answers!

This week, by some blessed chance, I spotted this book at an airport bookshop. Pradip Krishen's "Trees of Delhi" - a fantastic 360-page book of the most interesting tidbits and trivia. I am now a fan.

I discovered, through this book, that the trees in Delhi have wonderfully evocative names. In fact, they're lovely enough to invent an entirely new alphabet string for Delhi's schoolchildren!

A for the golden Amaltas
B for Lord Shiva's favourite Bael
C for the maple-like Chinar
D for the showy orange Dhak...

Ah, when am I going to learn all of them? But I'm determined to make a start! So here's where I'm beginning - with the big line of trees all along Rajpath and India Gate. Quite a fitting start, don't you think?

These beautiful dense green trees are rai-jamun (R for the blessedly tart Rai-Jamun! There! One letter done!).

Wondering what a rai-jamun is? It's a tree from the myrtle family, a species of flowering trees that grow widely around the world, primarily in Asia and Australia. It is evergreen in nature, which might explain why this sort of tree was chosen by the city planners to line this important road. If a deciduous tree had been chosen, it would shed its leaves in the scorching hot Delhi summers, you see? That would not have suited the British planners of Imperial Delhi, who definitely wanted a very green Delhi.

Here's a report from Captain George Swinton, Chairman of the Town Planning Committee, sent in 1912, referring to the creation of Imperial Delhi:

Trees will be everywhere, in every garden however small it may be, and along the sides of every roadway, and Imperial Delhi will be in the main a sea of foliage. It may be called a city, but it is going to be quite different from any city that the world has known.

Quite a vision, eh? So the evergreen rai-jamun found favour with the planners; whereas many other earlier Mughal garden favourites lost out.

Both rai-jamun and jamun were planted by the British. The rai-jamun was planted on Rajpath and India Gate; and the jamun, the most popular of the Lutyen's avenue trees, was planted on Tughlaq, Rajaji, Motilal Nehru, etc. In case you're wondering what the difference between jamun and rai-jamun is, here's a dummies guide :)

So if you walk past India Gate in August, you'll be eating the smaller jamuns! Every year the Delhi civic authorities auction the rights to collect fruits off the avenue trees. Fruits are either hand-picked or more popularly just shaken down (all fruits on a single tree don't ripen at the same time, so shaking makes sense). The jamunwallahs at India Gate sell it with chaat masala. Or is it kala namak? I'm not sure, so if you know what it is, then tell me!

Meanwhile, I'll just head back to my book and look up more trees. I can't think of a better way to spend Sunday :)

The oldest tomb in Delhi

Every time I drive around Delhi, the one thing that strikes me is sheer number of old tombs. Reminders of Delhi's Muslim elite - men and women, now long dead - appear around every corner of the road.

Some of Delhi's dead lie in grand edifices commissioned by wives or sons or faithful retainers; others sleep in humbler structures. Some sleep solo; others cluster together, sharing their resting place with family or even strangers. Some tombs are famous, others have crumbled, and even the names of the occupants have been lost.

Somewhat bewildered by the number of tombs around me, I went looking for the oldest one - and found myself caught up in the strange architecture of a tomb with a fanciful name - Sultan Ghari, or The Sultan's Cave.

Iltumish, the third and perhaps greatest emperor of the Slave Dynasty, built this strange looking octagonal tomb in 1231 for his son Nasiruddin Mahmud. I don't think I've ever seen anything in this shape anywhere else in Delhi, have you?

The local name for this tomb is Sultan Ghari i.e. the Sultan's Cave. The Arabic word ghaar means cave or crypt.

So where's the cave, you ask? It is under the octagon, of course. The body of Nasiruddin Mahmud is not buried in the octagon, but below it, in an underground chamber. The "floor" that you see (on which people are walking) is not really a floor, it is a platform raised of rubble, built to give the impression that the body is under the ground. A complicated lie, basically :) The slab that covers the octagon is the ceiling of the underground chamber. Now you see why they call it the Sultan's Cave?

If the octagonal raised crypt is unusual, so are its surrounds. The crypt sits inside what can only be described as a fortress.

Entrance to Sultan's Cave. If you peer through the entrance marble arch, you can see the octagon. This photo is from Prof Mortel's great collection of Delhi photos. Head over and take a look.

I'm not quite sure why Iltumish built a fortress, really. Maybe those were troubled times, or maybe he wanted a memorial for a victorious warrior son. Nasiruddin Mahmud helped Iltutmish conquer large swathes of Bengal, and ruled for 18 months as governor of Oudh, Bengal and Bihar. He was the oldest son and the heir-apparent. Had he not died, this was the empire he would have inherited.

The Empire of the Slave Dynasty extended from West to East. Nasiruddin expanded, consolidated and strengthened his father's empire in the East.

The courtyard surrounding Nasiruddin's octagonal crypt has a corridor, in which Iltumish reused pillars from Hindu temples. During this phase of Islamic construction, it is quite apparent that the builders were in a hurry, working with material already available.

Temple pillars with decorative elements chipped away. The corridor possibly served as a college or madrasa.

In the centre of the corridor is a prayer-niche of marble. The floor of this marble prayer-chamber contains the base of a shiva-lingam, pointing to the destruction of temples during the Sultanate (the Indira Gandhi National Centre for Arts has photos here in case you want a closer look)

During this phase of Islamic construction in Delhi, Hindu artisans worked on the monuments, and their lack of familiarity with Islamic architectural concepts led to many compromises. For example, roofs continued to be flat trabeate structures, spanned by beams and lintels, just as in Hindu temples. Although the doorways to Sultan Ghari were arched in keeping with traditional Islamic architecture, these were not "true" arches, and the workmen used corbels to create a "fake" arch.

Corbelled arch at Sultan Ghari.
A corbel is a piece of stone that juts out of a wall to carry the weight of something that rests on top of it.

After the death of Nasiruddin, Iltumish nominated his daughter Raziya as Sultan. She ruled for 4 years, before being killed in an uprising by her nobles (who wanted to raise one of her other brothers to the throne).

Raziya's grave, though, is a far cry from Nasiruddin's fortress tomb. For one, nobody is really sure where she is buried, and there are many conflicting stories. Some believe she is buried in Kaithal, Haryana. Others say her body was brought to Delhi and buried by the brother who succeeded her to the throne.

Razia Sultan's supposed grave in Turkman, Old Delhi. See interesting story here.

The site of Raziya's grave in Old Delhi is in a little lane, hemmed in by buildings on all sides. The Archaeological Survey of India has a little tablet here, which merely suggests that this is popularly believed to be where Raziya is interred. A part of the building has been converted to a small mosque. The second grave alongside is said to be that of her sister Shaziya; but local belief is that it is of her slave and lover.

Thus it goes on, tombs and graves in every nook and corner, reminding you that Delhi is a very old city with a lot of history. Indeed, were it not for the bustling noise of 15 million people who now live in Delhi, I would be tempted to label it a giant necropolis, a City of the Dead. I'm looking forward to unearthing more stories and secrets.

Sports and other things that push my buttons

What is it with men and sports? :) My life is an unending set of matches these days.

Here I am, watching Vijay Amritraj spouting sage advice on Wimbledon. A little earlier we were watching football. In between there's cricket. It's no exaggeration to say that I'm going completely insane, endlessly watching grown men run, jump, throw, catch, kick, hit, lob, and volley.

Of all the games on TV, though, the one I don't mind watching is tennis.

You know why? Not because it is a more interesting sport. But because at least in tennis, the crowds are *quiet*. There's no hooting and shouting, no crazy humming vuvuzelas, no frenzied whipping up of mob sentiment, no ugly nationalism, and no silly dances by half naked women.

Tennis seems - dare I say it - a pastime for the civilized. There is the quiet announcement of the score, the clapping at the end of each point, the well-behaved boys and girls who pick up the balls with minimum fuss...and most blessed of all, the absolute silence when the serve begins. It all seems designed to ensure you enjoy the beauty of the game itself.

I suppose I am being elitist? So be it. I'm not apologetic. Who wants to listen to this nonsense for four hours in a day?

Actually, the more I look at my adverse reaction to football-mania, the more I realise that it is only a reflection of my intense dislike for mobs.

I. Absolutely. Detest. Mobs. Large groups of people hollering about anything - be it sports or religion - set my teeth on edge. Having lived through the enormous mind-numbing violence of communal riots, I have a deep-rooted hatred and fear of large groups of brainwashed people. Of course, sports fans are nothing like the super-crazy-mobs that religions unleash. But they still make me uncomfortable.

Sigh. Sorry to vent. The tennis match is ending now, and Nadal just won. The prize ceremony was set up with minimum fuss, less than five minutes after the last serve. Here he is, making his little speech.


I better go have dinner. That Wolverine movie is coming up soon. It's the husband's turn to put up with stuff now :)

Veggie heaven

Recently I saw this poster of a tiger for the Incredible India tourism campaign:

(Not all Indians are polite, hospitable and vegetarian)

I burst out laughing, thinking of all the *very* polite, *very* vegetarian Indian IT professionals I know. If you're working in financial services, or information technology, or BPO, chances are, you'll have met some of these guys. Armed with laptops and packets of MTR ready-to-eat veggie upma, they periodically set out to conquer the West, but return gratefully to India (and the delights of home cooked food) at the first chance that presents itself.

I shouldn't laugh, though. Until recently, I was one of them. Every time I travelled, it was bread, fruit and cheese until I came back home to rice and chappati and my blessed dals and veggies. As my forays abroad grew more frequent, I learnt to hunt for Italian, Mexican, Lebanese and other cuisines, gradually becoming more and more successful in fending for myself.

These days, I'm no longer travelling abroad as much. Instead, I watch with interest (and some amusement!) as tourists of different nationalities, tastes and interests, grapple with Indian food.

Almost every tourist is surprised by the sophistication and variety of the vegetarian cuisine they encounter. The most frequent thing I hear is "Lord, I could be vegetarian here forever!" (and the happiest, loudest cries of delight seem to be from American vegetarians, don't ask me why).

The excellent veggie thali meal at Hotel Sunbird in Bharatpur

I confess I am baffled by how widely popular vegetarian cuisine is in India. This is totally in contrast with other countries in the world, where vegetables are something that you force yourself to eat.

The markets here are full of interesting vegetarian options - for example, walk into any market in Delhi and you'll see something like this:

Fresh vegetables arrive daily at the market, and eagle-eyed men and women come shopping in the evening inspecting them with practised easeDifferent varieties of leafy greens are popular - these are chopped and added to wheat flour to make spicy flavoured parathas, or pureed to make saag, ground into chutneys, or simply used as garnish

Sprouts and beans of different types are cooked with onions, tomatoes, garlic, green chillies, ginger and coriander to make amazingly tasty dals

The markets are proof enough - Indians eat a lot of vegetarian food, with sprouts, legumes, vegetables and milk products dominating the meal. Even "non-veg" Indians eat a lot of vegetarian food. The frequency of meat / chicken / fish dishes differs from house to house; in some cases it is once a week, whereas in some houses there is a daily non-vegetarian dish. Most Hindu homes have vegetarian breakfasts, with non-vegetarian food typically reserved for lunch or dinner.

Meat does not comprise the main dish in India in the sense that Westerners understand it - there is really no Indian equivalent of a large steak. In non-veg households, the star of the meal is a meat or chicken side-dish/curry, which is eaten with rice or roti. Or the meat is added to a biryani or pulao.

In comparison with people from other religions, Christians and Muslims eat more non-vegetarian food, including at breakfast. But even their diets have a significant vegetarian component. The only places that do not have a predominantly vegetarian cuisine are our coastal regions where fish is a standard element of literally every meal.

So anyway, where did this vegetable and legume diet come from?

I am told it's plain economics; that Indian diet has many vegetarian elements because most Indians cannot afford a meat based daily diet. But when you look at China, or any of the countries of the Far East that are just as poor as India, you see that their cuisines are dominated by non-vegetarian food. The Vietnamese, for instance, have similar per capita income as India, but have 5 times as much meat in their diet. Clearly there's something else going on in India.

There is a view that this is the influence of Buddhism and Jainism. Pshaw, I say. The Jains and Buddhists make up only a very small number of Indians; and there are not enough of them to create any food trends. Besides, almost everywhere in the world, Buddhists eat lots of meat, fish, and indeed, if the Far East is anything to go by, anything that moves.

Among Hindus, it is only the upper caste Brahmins who have religious reasons to be purely vegetarian. The vast majority are not required by religion to be vegetarian (except on certain festival days and occasions), but they still eat a lot of vegetarian food. Is it religion that drives the daily menu of a house towards many vegetarian foods? In part, yes, but I really don't think it is the full picture.

I think I'm going to settle for a more prosaic explanation, unless any of you can educate me otherwise. We eat so many vegetables and pulses and legumes simply because that's the way it has always been. "We are like that only". Whether we are "veg" or "non-veg", we make the most of the wide variety of veggies in the market. We cook them in interesting ways, cut them into pickles, we roast them, we mix them with dals, spice them up, mash them into chutneys, fry them into finger-licking snacks, and we thoroughly enjoy all of it.

Delhi - 21st century city?

The Hindustan Times Brunch on Sunday had an interesting theme:

Is Delhi the Indian city of the 21st century?

The article argues that Calcutta - which for 300 years was the business and cultural capital of India - went from "can do" to "hobey na" between 1940-60. Staggering under the onslaught of Partition, with huge waves of poor migrants, and a sharply slashed economy, the city slid further down as Communism took hold.

Bombay, which looked like the Golden City of the 20th century, now appears to be on a downward slide. The closure of the mills in the 1980's, the 1992 Hindu-Muslim riots, the current anti-migrant policy of the Sena brigade, the slums, the traffic woes...these seem to suggest that the city is becoming cancerous.

Delhi, on the other hand, seems to be on an upswing. The article suggests that Delhi has many things that make it a city you want to live in - a new Metro (finally, safe public transport for women), new roads and flyovers, an increasingly cosmopolitan mix of people (unlike the earlier Delhi of Punjabis and Haryanvis), and a happening cultural scene. Most importantly, Delhi is not a state capital; it is not constrained by the demands of less prosperous rural surroundings, therefore it can determine its own future.

So what do you think? Does the 21st century belong to Delhi?

Falling in love - my Kanha trip report

We are just back from a 3 day trip to Kanha Tiger Reserve. We flew into Nagpur, and drove 5 hours through the countryside, to a pretty lodge called Camp Dev Vilas. We did four safaris into the jungle - two in the morning, and two in the evening.

By the time I came back home, I was exhausted. But I had fallen in love with Kanha.
Why, you ask? No, it wasn't the tigers. Or any of the beautiful birds we saw. Or my first sighting of a leopard in the wild.

I fell in love with the land itself.

There are very few places in India where time stands still. Kanha is one of those places. In the tall sal forests of Kanha, it feels as if nothing has changed for a thousand years, as if the forests and the trees have stood there forever.

A sounder of wild boars in Kanha's Sal Tree Forests. 

Apart from the noise of their feet on the leaves, there was no other sound.

I have been to other forests in India - but none of them have had this kind of impact on me. Maybe it is the sheer size of Kanha. You can keep driving around; the park seems endless.

One evening, we drove up to a plateau for a look at the park boundary. The forest stretched as far as the eye could see. The park is all of 2000 square kilometers., with habitat that includes not only sal forests, but also more wild forested tracts, and beautiful meadows.

Kanha is horse-shoe shaped, with hills ringing the park.

Can you see the hills in the far distance?

By the way, if you have heard of the word 'Gondwanaland' - referring to an ancient continental structure that existed up until 130 million years ago - it comes from the Sanskrit words "gond" + "vana" - meaning Forests of the Gonds.

In the late nineteenth century, an Austrian geologist, Eduard Seuss, studied the ancient land formations in central India, and came up with the theory that the continents as we know it today were all joined together. It was he who coined the term Gondwanaland to refer to this ancient supercontinent.

The famous meadows of Kanha. Looks like a water-colour painting . 

The people of Kanha are ancient too. One morning, as we drove in the dark pre-dawn hour to our safari, I saw a group of Baiga tribals, carrying wood. There were men and women in the group walking with small quick steps, balancing their loads on their shoulders. As they melted away into the darkness, our guide Monu explained that the Baigas still make their living from the forest, collecting honey and timber.

In the buffer zone of Kanha, we also saw many small settlements of Gonds. Their houses are uniformly painted an auspicious blue. Their cattle are short, with small horns. They are farmers and cattle owners, living a simple rustic life.

Gond house under a mahua tree

Rocks, forests, people - everything about Kanha seems ancient, reminding you of a time when the world was  a different place. Although the animal population of Kanha is nowhere the size it once was (the vast herds that once roamed these meadows are gone), the Forests of the Gonds seem to have escaped the complete destruction we see everywhere else in India.

One of the endearing features of Kanha is that the animals are still very shy of humans. It is a very different experience from say, Africa, where the animals lie around, indifferent to the hundreds of tourist jeeps. I for one, rejoiced that I had found such an Eden. I will return to Kanha soon, I am certain.

Chital run away in alarm when they see our jeep.

The controversial elephant ride at Amer Fort, Jaipur

Every now and then, I keep hearing cries from activists to stop the elephant rides in Amer Fort.

These are ten minute rides, from the bottom of the hill to the fort, with a maximum of two riders to an elephant. The rides start around 8:00 a.m. and end by about 11:00 a.m.


Those who call for banning the rides say that it is cruel to the elephants, that they toil in the sun, and that the stone terrain is hard on their feet.

It is a complex issue, so to all those asking for the rides to be stopped, I say, please don't oversimplify it.

There are 4-5 traditional communities in India that work with animals - the madaris with their monkeys, the kalandars with bears, the elephant handlers, the saperas with their snakes, and there are also communities in Rajasthan who specialise in tiger hunting, and so on and so forth. Apart from these, there are many, many others in rural and small-town India who depend on animals for a living. When you advocate a course of action that impacts both people and animals, it is worthwhile to pause and think about not just the moral issues but also the practical ones.

For me, the first and larger dilemma comes when I ask myself - is domestication of animals ethically right? Do humans have the right to capture, tame and use wild animals? Do humans really have the right to tame and use other animals like camels, horses, donkeys, and bullocks? Do humans have the right to even confine dogs, whose natural habitat is the wild, and who would much prefer to run free in their own packs? Taking that a step further, is it correct to restrict the freedom of sheep, pigs, goats etc for slaughter? Is it correct to subject mice, monkeys and rabbits to pain in laboratories?

Bullock cart in Agra - are they toiling any less in the sun?

Overladen mule-cart in Old Delhi in peak April summer

There are many inspiring schools of Indian thought which say that cruelty to living creatures is not acceptable. We all learn even as schoolchildren about the Boddhisatva who takes monkey form, or elephant form, or bird and other forms, to teach humans compassion for all living creatures. Many religions forbid the killing of animals, and religions like Jainism forbid the use of animal products like leather.

My personal view is that the restriction of freedom of any animals by humans is an unfortunate historical necessity and an unavoidable fact, but is morally incorrect. That applies not just to elephants, but to all animals who are victims of what I call "human conquest". Taking the argument to its logical extension, to me the raising of sheep for slaughter is no different from the raising of elephants for commercial use. I do not like either of these.

However, the moral dimension of the issue is different from the practical dimension.

Practically speaking, the planet probably can't support all of us if no one ate meat. Practically speaking, the camel is the best and perhaps only affordable solution for humans in the desert areas of Rajasthan. Elephants were probably the most effective way to get timber from forests. Dogs were probably the most effective warning mechanism and hunting help for humans. And so on and so forth.

These practicalities change with time and technology. Therefore from a purely practical point of view, leaving the morals/ethics aside, the use of animals has to be constantly re-evaluated to see if it makes sense, and if it is unavoidable as a means to secure human welfare.

When you evaluate the situation in such terms, it becomes obvious that some uses of animals have now outlived their necessity and that it is time to stop it. Some other uses have still enormous practical value, and stopping it would lead to loss of human welfare (for example, oxen for ploughs, or camels for the desert, even with the advent of tractors and jeeps, there is really no cost-effective subsitute).

Tribal Rabari woman with her camels. These are their only wealth.

It is not always easy to make these decisions, and there are definitely shades of grey in these.

But it is quite clear to me that we have only two ways forward:

1. Where the use of animals is unavoidable, regulate and police actively to ensure minimum pain and maximum compassion

2. Where the use of animals is avoidable, phase out with a sensitive and practical understanding of the issues.

The elephants at Amer are merely joyrides, and nowhere in the unavoidable category. So it is quite clear to me that they must be stopped. However, I am not willing to see the elephants at Amber starve to death simply because there is no employment for them forcing their owners to abandon them.

The solution is obvious and two-pronged, but I will state it anyway. We need the following:
a) The creation of a government or private sponsored facility to "retire" the elephants and look after them until they die
b) A program to re-skill and provide gainful employment the mahouts so that their families don't starve

I have just visited the Bear Rescue Centre in Agra where over 275 'dancing bears' have been brought from various places in India. The Bear rescue centre is a permanent home for these bears because they cannot be released into the wild. The kalandar community from whom they have been purchased have been compensated for the bears (Rs 50,000 for a bear) and they have been taught other skills. Some of them work at the centre. Craft products and jewellery made by kalandar women is sold at the centre.

The Bear Rescue Centre at Agra provides a successful, practical model to follow

Simply saying "Stop the rides at Amber" is not the solution. Without the necessary support system in place to provide alternative rescue for the elephants, stopping the rides would mean taking away the elephants' only earning.

So if you're visiting Jaipur, and wondering whether to do the ride, I say, until there is a viable alternative for the elephants, do it. If you see mistreatment, report it (there is an Elephant Welfare Office at the fort). If you want to contribute towards their welfare, then donate to wild life rescue organisations who are working in the field. I would recommend these guys: Wildlife SOS (the same guys running the Bear Rescue Centre in Agra). I visited them and was very impressed not just by their understanding of the issues involved, but their very practical approach, collaborating with difficult government departments etc. They have a captive Elephant Welfare Project and are trying to start a sanctuary in Haryana for elephants similar to their Bear facility in Agra. I wish them luck.

- Deepa