Theme holiday
Past perfect in
Old wondrous capital that Shah Jahan built in 1638 is the Delhi Shahjahanabad, the
WOR D S & P H OTO G R A PHS | G uSTASP An D JeROO IRAn I
hyphen between the past and the present. Explore Old Delhi at its glorious best.
e left behind the broad tree-lined boulevards of New Delhi, its soaring flyovers and sleek Metro to slip into the secret alleys of Old Delhi. Here pulses the capitals eternal soul, its heart beat, we exulted, as we trundled around in a cycle rickshaw to see the sights. Old Delhi embraced us with waves of unbridled energy, and the colour and chaos typical of India in transition; a country caught mid-leap between a storied past and a frenetic present. As we explored the tangled spaghetti-like streets and by-lanes of Old Delhi, we gazed at it all from the superior elevation of our rickshaw. Our rickshawallah, who had the air of a local pirate, doubled up as a guide and pointed out the sights as we lurched along.
On the rewind
Local buses almost grazed past our fragile contraption. Conductors stood in the doorway of the overburdened vehicles sipping tea as other kamikaze rickshaw drivers tooted past, weaving in and out of the traffic which included carts pulled by burly bulls. Sloe-eyed cows lumbered down the streets, uncaring, concerned only with their own unique time table. The tiny lanes were lined with havelis where backpackers in shorts strode alongside shy Indian brides, faces half covered with the corners of their saris, and burkha-clad women who glanced from behind eye slits. We wanted to burrow deep into this old part of the city, and turn the pages like a history book. So we ducked into the vast courtyard of the Jama Masjid which can accommodate up to 25,000 devotees, and let the peace and awesome proportions of the edifice envelop us. The floor was cold under
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our feet. Knots of tourists gazed in awe at the red sandstone edifice whose two 120-ft high minarets and bulbous dome wove patterns against a gun-metal grey sky. People snoozed in the hospitable corridors and on the steps that led up to the mosque while some solo travellers sat and perused well-thumbed Lonely Planet guide books. One could imagine how this awesome space must reverberate at the time of the azaan; the devotion of the believers floating like a thick cloud over the last of Emperor Shah Jahans major architectural projects. We left the mosque to be virtually sucked into swirling eddies of colour vendors of bangles, saris, marigolds and fireworks jostled for space while a man who was stirring a huge pan of fragrant seviyan urged us to try some of the concoction. Unlike the precints of the Jama Masjid, outside there was commercialism, haphazard and overlaid with a sense of urgency. Historic India and the 21st century locked in an eternal clinch! And then we stumbled on a gory sight bloodletting! Men and women, legs bound with tape, stood in the sun, waiting their turn. A brawny gentleman with a large cowboy-style hat sat with a sheaf of lethal looking blades. As each patient revealed his ailment, he made crucial cuts on the foot or arm. According to Unani tradition, by drawing out bad blood, numerous diseases such as arthritis, diabetes, and cardiac problems can be cured. Mohaamed Iqbal had learnt the technique from his father, Hakim M. Ghyas. The two had learnt the procedure from an Imam and perform their daily miracles for free (all the patients whom we spoke to reported partial or complete relief.)
SpiceJet flies to Delhi. See schedule, page 190.
Clockwise from above: The best way to see Old Delhi is by taking a rickshaw ride; A roadside kitchen sorting vegetables for dinner; Darbar Hall at the Red Fort
temple and a Jain one rubbed shoulders like old friends, we stumbled on a string of the most vibrant atmospheric markets in the world. The spice market (the largest in Asia) where the collective aroma of spices, ginger and other
Multiple shades
To the west lay Chawri Bazaar a-gleam with copper and brass icons and to the south Churiwali Galli, the lane of bangle sellers, wound into the distance. Soon we were wallowing in the multi-sensory experience of Chandni Chowk, the street that runs from the Red Fort to Fatehpuri Masjid. Here where the yellow faade of the British era Town Hall, the gold domes of the Sisganj Gurudwara, St James Church, the oldest in Delhi, a Hindu
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Clockwise from right: A family having a relaxed time at the lawns of Red Fort; Red sandstone facade of Red Fort dictates history; Old Delhi Railway Station catering to tourists and wayfarers
strutted around like drag queens! We ducked into Parathewale Galli where in four cramped stalls (at one time there were 16), one can get parathas of amazing variety. There were multilayered tomato, aloo, mulli, paneer, gajar, mewa, rabri, and kaju parathas and many more. These were deep-fried and then slapped into large thalis in which there were small mounds of sabzi and pickles. Further away, we stumbled on Old famous jalebiwala, whose kadai had not come off the stove for decades testifying to the popularity of the sizzling hot jalebis fried in desi ghee and spiked with sweet syrup. As dusk muted the hum of an unquiet city and gathered it into its arms as a mother would a tired child, we made one last stop at the Red Fort whose majestic battlements rise from manicured lawns. The fort glowed red in the setting suns warm parting; bats screeched from under the domes and flew down the long corridors. Here was the Diwani-Am and there, the Diwan-i-Khas where the bejewelled Peacock Throne had once rested to be subsequently whisked away by the Persian plunderer Nadir Shah. The Red Fort built by the great Mughal Shah Jahan also presided over the death of
the Mughal Empire and the ignoble exile to Rangoon of its last poet-king Bahdur Shah Zafar. The Sound and Light show though a trifle pass brought history alive, and gilded it into an absorbing narrative. As we left the fort after the show, the ghosts of the past came a-calling. We felt their chilled breath on our cheeks and thought we heard the sound of girlish laughter swirling around in the hamam area; the tinkle of wine being poured into goblets in the kings private chamber, of shairies being recited with poetic intensity by the court versifier. Yes, in Old Delhi, centuries past do not lie moth-balled in dank monuments but they unfurl in narrow lanes and historic corridors. The lines between the past and present are so blurred that one sees everything through the prism of history.
herbs enveloped us while the textures and colours were almost like an abstract painting. Our obliging rickshawwallah pedalled past sari and jewellery stores that glittered in the gathering dusk. There women stroked the merchandise with bemused expressions while pot-bellied salesmen enthusiastically draped the gorgeous fabrics on themselves and
Delhi Dazzle
Old Delhi area starts at the end of Bahadur Shah zafar Marg, at Delhi Gate. The best way to explore this neighbourhood is on foot or by cycle rickshaw. For more info contact Delhi Tourism at tourism@ [Link]. [Link]
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Tiger
Navin M. Raheja pays a touching tribute to T36, one of the most graceful tigers to straddle the hills and grasslands of Ranthambore National Park.
WOR D S & P H OTO G R A PHY | N Av i N M RAH ejA
tales
ven when the sweat started blurring the lenses, I refused to put the binocular down. The September sun in Ranthambore National Park can be quite unforgiving. But to lose sight of T36, that too after four days of intense search outside the periphery of Ranthambore, was an unacceptable proposition. So I let the sweat-bath continue. I remember the day vividly, September 20, 2008. I also remember October 18, 2010,
equally well, but with lot more sadness. This was the day T36 completed his circle of life and returned to the happy hunting grounds of his forefathers. To me, T36 would always remain an unsung hero. One of the most graceful tigers to straddle the hills and grasslands of Ranthambore, he was, however, never a photographers delight. No television channel ever made a documentary on him, nor was
his pictorial laid out in any magazine or newspaper. He simply wasnt considered hot enough! But that will never take away the immense, almost immeasurable, charm of T36. For three years, right from his birth to death and the turbulence he suffered inbetween, T36 would hold me spell-bound, and therefore, I feel his life-story deserves a few words. It is not a happy story, but its a story
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which T36 scripted and lived out in the spirit of a true tiger. For starters, T36 was an extremely shy tiger (one reason why he could never become a celebrity tiger). Difficult to spot, he would bolt at the slightest hint of human presence. There was a reason for this odd behaviour, a striking contrast from the normally camerafriendly tigers of Ranthambore. Born to Guda sometime in January 2008, T36 and his sister opened their eyes to the chilly but friendly forest of Ranthambore. The Guda area of the park - after which the mother was named harboured sufficient shelter and prey animals for a family of three tigers to live happily. For eight months, Ranthambore granted peaceful existence to the family. It was during this period that T36 imbibed some of the hunting skills from his mother - skills which would save his life in the dreadful years ahead. But as any tiger would tell you, peace in the forest is often temporary. Meant to be savoured as long as it lasts, peace is
an unsecured loan granted to the denizens of a forest, and is usually taken back as swiftly. On September 1, 2008, T36 got the shock of his young life. In one stroke of bad luck, the gods snatched away peace and comfort from T36, and hurled him down the path of almost daily battle for survival. On the fateful day, T36s mother died. Rather, she was killed by another tigress while defending her territory and her cubs. The forest authorities at Ranthambore, aware that the mother-less cubs were hiding somewhere in the rocky terrain, launched a massive search-and-rescue operation. Three days later, T36 and his sister were found in dense undergrowth. They had probably not eaten anything for 10 days, and might not have survived the ordeal for long. Now what? asked the authorities to themselves. Faced with two grown-up cubs that had not yet carved out their territories or had established hunting techniques, it was a tough question to answer. Such were the
Above: The wildlife enthusiast, Navin M Raheja behind the lens; Left: Ranthambore in Rajasthan is home to a decent tiger population
state of affairs that an ad-hoc forest controlroom and headquarter was set up in the area by Forest Ranger Daulat Singh Shekhawat so that he along with his staff can keep a constant watch on the cubs. Finally, after enough deliberation, the senior officials of Ranthambore decided to let mother nature decide the fate of the duo. On September 10, Shekhawat took upon himself the task to radio collar T36 and he was radio-collared and taken to Sawai Mansingh sanctuary, bordering Ranthambore. The fact that the sanctuary had few resident tigers and males of Ranthambore used it mainly as a passage-way would make it suitable for T36 to establish his domain there. For months thereafter, whenever I could manage to find some time from my busy schedule as CMD of Raheja Developers, I, along with my trusted friend M.D. Parashar, would scout Sawai Mansingh sanctuary, always on the lookout for T36. He crossed our paths several times, and each encounter is deeply etched in my memory. From day one of his forced freedom, T36 started displaying reckless behaviour. Within weeks he acquired the reputation of a cattle-lifter. This trait gained him immediate dislike of a
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SpiceJet flies to Jaipur. See schedule, page 190.
Left to Right: Life and times of T36 - T36 is here seen as a cub; Time when he was released in the Sawai Mansingh Sanctuary in 2009; T36s life comes to an end
had started pursuing natural prey like chital, sambhar and wild boar. I would often meet T36 on narrow jungle by-lanes in early mornings. Initially, as was his habit, he would take cover the moment he spotted Parashars Gypsy. At times, we spotted him quenching his thirst at a water-hole. Over time, he started accepting my presence - or this is what I thought. Had I managed to connect with T36 in some unknown manner? Who knows? But his behaviour was showing far less hostility to me than before. I found myself privileged. By June 2010, I had managed to establish what may be called a rough connect with T36. One afternoon, with temperature soaring to 45 degree Celsius, I saw T36 approaching a water-hole. We were some 50 feet away, but he took no note of us and jumped headlong into the pool. For next 30 minutes, as T36 continued his battle with the mercury, I found myself engrossed in gazing at his superb form. Time lost all sense of meaning. Suddenly, the unforgettable words of American curator John Seidensticker came to mind: The tiger lives in a world of sunlight and shadow/Always secretive, never devious/Always a killer, never a murderer/ Solitary, never alone/For it is an irreplaceable
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large number of villages dotted alongside the boundary of Ranthambore. Naturally, it also made the authorities jumpy, for now they had to keep a sharper eye on the young tiger. On March 21, 2009, matters came to a head. A few days before, T36 had taken shelter in a field behind Oberoi Hotel. He had not made a kill for several days. A desperate and foolish step it was, but hungry T36 took it anyway by attacking a human being. It happened at Karvoda village, and the woman T36 thought would be a nice meal was bleeding profusely when we reached Karvoda. Two days later, T36 attacked and injured a forest official, Mohan Lal. The same day, the forest authorities, now really in a panic-mode, tranquilised the errant tiger and took him to Falaudi forest range near Ghazipur, some 40 km away from Ranthambore National Park. It was at Falaudi that I had some of the most memorable encounters with T36. It was clear he was coming out on his own, and
link/In the process and the wholeness of life. Seidensticker might well have been speaking of T36. Things were going along rather fine for T36 at this stage, I must say. Now approaching his third birthday, he had effectively made Falaudi his home-turf. The skirmishes with villagers and cattle-lifting had become a thing of the past. T36, it seemed, had finally learnt to balance freedom with responsibility. He is now ready for a mate, a beaming Parashar told me in the first week of October, 2010. When Parashar called me up on the afternoon of October 22, I picked the cell-phone with a smile. So finally, T36 has emerged on his own. He must have had a successful mating, I told myself. But within seconds, my hope lay shattered. T36, I was informed, had been killed by another male tiger in a territorial fight. Parashar gave me the details of the deadly fight, but I was not hearing the words. I was elsewhere, in a secluded patch of Falaudi, watching T36 as he ambled majestically towards me.
The writer is a wildlife enthusiast and photographer, and the Chairman & MD of Raheja Developers Ltd.
Theme holiday
Less travelled
WOR D S | Ma R Rya M H
Srinagar and Kashmir is much more than the Mughal gardens and Dal lake. We bring you places dipped in history which still lie unexplored.
R eS Hi i PHOTOGRaPH S: iNDia PiCTU Re
Kashmir
very destination acquires its own tourist treadmill and Kashmir is no different. Touristic clichs are a wonderful thing in most cases, when you are pressed for time, a quick drive through all of them, and you can safely tick the boxes. While it would be rather eccentric to miss out on quintessential Srinagar via Mughal gardens, Shankaracharya Temple, shopping in Lal Chowk, it does add another dimension to go off into the wild yonder and discover your secret spaces. Here are some of mine.
Unexplored treasUres
Burzahama is just outside Srinagar city limits, to the east. The best (or worst, depending on your point of view) part is that there is no habitation around, certainly no shopping and entertainment. It is the hallowed precincts
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SpiceJet flies to Srinagar. See schedule, page 190.
Clockwise from above: The ruins of Burzahama date back to 2,375 BC; The Sun Temple in Martand gives a beautiful view of the valley; The temple in Pandrethan is of the oldest ones in Srinagar
of the most ancient site in the Valley, dating back to 2,375 BC. Burzahama is slated to remain an eternal mystery. Who were the Nagas or snake worshippers who inhabited this place? Are they the same people who have been mentioned in the Nilamata Purana (the ancient written recorded history of Kashmir)? What, if any, is the significance of similar tools as those excavated in Burzahama, found in Tibet and parts of Northern China? Was there trade between the two countries at that time in the distant past? Were there indeed two geographical countries as there are now? You wont get any answers, but you will get plenty of questions in that still silence.
It is believed, the first religion in Kashmir was Buddhism. When Hiuen Tsang visited Kashmir in AD 631, he was astonished at the number of stupas and viharas in the region. Sadly, none of them exist, because according to historian Robert E Fisher, the later Hindu kings reportedly plundered those sites and carried off limestone blocks to build their own temples. What does remain of all of Kashmirs Buddhist past are the ruins of Parihaspora. In this case too, they are no more than impressive plinths with enormous staircases and mounds of rubble.
controlled area in Srinagar, is out of bounds to the aimless wanderer. However, there are lots more. One, built in the 7th century, is Mamleshwar in Pahalgam. It has been maintained by the ASI, which is, to say the ancient, rough-hewn blocks of limestone have been covered by a brand new roof. The garden view is wonderful and the two (Muslim) ASI employees who officiate as pujaris imbue this ancient temple with the syncretism for which Kashmir was famed. The temple with the finest view in the entire Valley has to be the Sun Temple at Martand. Situated atop a low hill, it overlooks miles and miles of countryside, so whichever time of the year you visit, there will be a different set of colours to bewitch you. While all of Kashmirs other temples are said to be a continuation of its Buddhist style of architecture, the Sun Temple looks remarkably Greek because of the columns and Cambodian in the combination of strength with grace. By 1320, the first Muslim king ruled Kashmir,
Unfolding history
There are many Hindu temples all over Kashmir, all being constructed in the style that has come to be known as lantern. The best maintained, in Pandrethan, near the Army
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and a century later came the golden period of Kashmiri history. In a relatively short span of time, limestone architecture was completely overtaken by brick and wood. All those centuries later, traces of both remain stubbornly, even in private houses: the plinth is always made of limestone blocks to a height of two or three feet, and the rest is made with brick. The wealthy favour wooden artistry on their ceilings that is called khatamband and is seen in no other part of the country besides Kashmir. You can see khatamband in many houseboats and shrines. A few centuries of wooden architecture (sadly, the best have caught fire and are not in existence any more) and the Mughal emperors annexed Kashmir as part of their empire. It really does require the perspective of an outsider to bring out the best in a destination. Each of the Mughal emperors contributed to the architecture and landscape of the Valley. Emperor Akbar planted 1,200 chinar trees on
the banks of the Dal and promptly named it Naseem Bagh or the Garden of Breezes. It is the most unique of all Kashmirs gardens, all the others being planned in the char-bagh fashion. Now part of the Regional Engineering College complex, it is like others of Kashmirs lesser known attractions. While the vast majority of the supposedly 777 Mughal gardens that existed in the heyday of the Mughals long gone, there are only two that survive outside Srinagar. Nur Jehan planned the one at Achabal, recently restored (and extremely professionally too) by INTACH. The other is on the far side of Manasbal Lake and is called Jharoka Bagh. Forlorn and hardly visited, even the surroundings are quiet and
Clockwise from above: Pari Mahal is a beautiful seven terraced garden; Naseem Bagh in autumn looks pristine; Sunset at the Nigeen Lake; The shrine of Akhoon Mulla Shah, situated close to Dal Lake
Ruins of Parihaspora show how Kashmir has always been a crucible of different faiths
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seldom visited. Should you decide to visit it, you will be rewarded by visual retreat some of the finest chinar trees on the drive from Srinagar to Ganderbal. The last two spots on our list are both devoted to Akhoon Mulla Shah, the Sufi teacher of Prince Dara Shikoh. The better known is Pari Mahal. More a stepped garden with fabulous of the Dal far below and pavilions where students gathered for teachings. Akhoon Mulla Shah lies buried across the Dal, on the hill where Makhdoom Sahibs famous shrine is. Just below it, in a forgotten corner, is the gently decaying shrine, visited by pigeons, squirrels and young lads who play cricket in the overgrown garde .
