A whole new world

I am of the opinion that as an outsider you take a closer look at a city than you would as an insider.


21 years in Ahmedabad v/s just 3 years in Pune. I think I can talk more about the later than the former - not a fact that I’m particularly proud about. So last week, with the hope of knowing more about my city, I took a heritage walk in the old city of Ahmedabad.

Organized by the Gujarat government, this walk takes you through the labyrinth corners of the vicinity where the city originated. In these lanes, time stands still and each building narrates the story of the grandeur of the bygone era.

We started with the house of Kavi Dalpatram. This bronze statue sits at the entrance.

The two hour walk takes you through various ‘pols’ – the self-contained neighbourhoods, some of which are virtually small villages. In olden days, these pols were protected by gates and secret passages.

An old woodden door that caught my eye

Today, when you walk through its narrow streets, you cannot help standing in awe before these architectural wonders.

A traditional bird-feeder known as a 'chabutara'


These carved out pieces that adorn every house here bear the influence of various cultures. While the floral pattern is a Persian influence, the presence of angels is very European.

This one bears a chinese influence

And then you enter these Jain temples where gods carved out from wood some 400 years ago still retain their luster and glory!

Some pics taken from outside the temple

Inside a particular house, it looks just like a ‘chal’, only that it’s bigger and grander. Some of these houses still accommodate huge Jain families (some 80-100 people).

In those days, it was a matter of pride for the family members that their girl child is educated. They'd place such small statues on the main door to indicate that.

Amidst these lanes also lies the tomb of the man who built this city – Ahmad Shah. (He was only 20 when he built it!) The intricate designs on the walls that surround it are beautifully carved out.

The city was systematically divided. There was the residential area called pols and the commercial area called ols. The markets of the old city are still the biggest markets in Ahmedabad and here you’ll find every damn thing you have on your list!

A banner with a typo that caught my attention

The walk ended at the Jama Masjid. It was the first time I entered a mosque and the feeling was overwhelming. The huge central area is surrounded by walls where some urdu words are painted.

The central area

The soothing Urdu script

To say that the central dome is a work of beauty would be an understatement. The 500+ pillars within the mosque give rise to an interesting play of shadow and light. I just had to close my eyes and say ‘Allah’ in my heart to feel one with Him.

One of my favourite pics from the day

I wondered, how many people know this facet of Ahmedabad. How many even care to? And as I type this I wonder if it would be fair to even call it the old city. In those couple of hours, what I discovered was a complete new city.

Shaival and me :)

Thanks Shaival for your wonderful company. Thanks Om for helping me out in posting the pictures.
P.S. - You can see some beautiful pictures of Ahmedabad pols here.

Cut-throat competition – literally!

Uttarayan – the kite flying festival was celebrated with much gusto during the last two days here in Gujarat. Colourful kites, loud music and voices screaming ‘kaypo che’ and ‘lapet’ filled the air. Relatives visited each other, friends indulged in some fruitful bird-watching on the terraces and undhiyon-fafda-jalebi was the obvious menu in every household. The tanned faces, bruised fingers and sore throats of every second person I met were a telling tale of the fun-filled day spent on the terrace.

But today is a different story all together. The colourful kites that adorned the skies are now seen entangled in the branches of every tree and electrical wire that comes to sight. The dangerous glass coated threads (manja) that became the reason of much jubilation and many frustrations until yesterday now lie on the roads, clinging to every vehicle and passer-by in its way. And I haven’t even spelt out the worst that could have happened – something I feared the most.

The headline reads that a man lost his life after a Chinese thread (apparently with more glass powder) slit his throat while he was driving on his two-wheeler. Seven other people lost their lives while chasing kites and two toppled off the terrace. More than 500 birds were injured and 90 lost their lives during these two days - some of which include the most endangered species.

I cannot help but think, are these celebrations even worth it? Why don’t people understand that their moments of joy could cost someone his life? It degrades the very essence with which such festivals were started in the first place. And Uttarayan is not the only festival to be blamed here. In every festival - be it Holi or Diwali – the nuisance overrules the celebrations. Chemical colours burn the skin; black smoke chokes the air – but we wouldn’t stop celebrating such festivals. Afterall, they are a part of our tradition, isn’t it? Think again. Do we still have to continue like this? Can we not think of better ways of celebrating these festivals in its true spirit?

In the name of God

i came alive
from the burning flames
while she stood there
succumbing to the political games

they slit open her womb
and flung the foetus in the pyre
who would say they are humans?
they were beasts
in human’s attire

‘in the name of god we do this’
they killed mercilessly and said
one ghastly act provoked another
and soon the untamed fire spread

six years have passed
but those screams still haunt me
the bloodbath, the horrifying sights
flash across unexpectedly and jolt me

‘you were lucky to have escaped the genocide’,
they thank the lord and say
somebody go tell them
i was saved once
but i die every single day

Urban Escape

As I drive to office, I cannot help but notice the dichotomies surrounding me at every juncture. I find myself staring at streets and pedestrians, looking for a deeper meaning hidden behind each of them - the tall buildings juxtaposed against the slums of the construction workers; an old man struggling to peddle his cycle being overtaken by a minor riding a kinetic; an empty restaurant next to a roadside tea stall thronging with customers; a man selling low-priced clothes on a hand-cart parked under a huge hoarding of Benzer; a group of IT engineers crossing the road while being cautious not to step on the coconuts and lemons sprinkled with sindoor and placed on the crossroads in order to ward off evil... Every single day I come across a new story and find myself getting lost in the details of urbanity. The multi-layered essences intrigue, inspire and enthrall me. The city in its myriad facets weaves a reality that is so hard to believe and so convenient to ignore…

Destiny

I was made for this moment

As the sun rises, I get ready,
put my best (read garish) clothes
and wear jewellery that shines so bright
then stand on the road-side
in a posture that is sure to attract
many a buyer

Many eyes fall on me
I know I'm the best of the lot
A man approaches and asks, "how much?"
The man next to me replies " 501"
"Not a penny more than 250"
The man agrees, takes the money
and hands me over to him

I go to his place
and am treated like some god
I'm placed on a pedestal,
showered with flowers
and offered the best food every day

Soon many people
start talking about me
and line up
just to steal a look

My popularity grows by the day
but this doesn’t last for long…

Soon they ask me to leave
Nonetheless, with the promise
That I come to their place
The next year…

"Ganpati bapa moriya
Agle baras tu jaldi aa"

@ L 5 -13

This one comes especially for my roomies, with whom i've spent some of the best moments of my life :) makuts...we rock!!

Hariyali se dhaki un galiyon mein
Humne bhi ek jahan banaya tha

Ek chote se kamre mein
Duniya ke har sukh ko paaya tha

Yaaron ke saath bitayi thi kai shaamein
Tanhaiyon mein thandi hawaon ko apnaya tha

Bin vajah kiye the jahan jhagde
Phir gale lag, ek dusre ko manaya tha

Har baat pe hasi
Har cheez mein shararat
Har pal ek naya khwaab sajaya tha

Us kamre ki woh choti khidki se
Humein ek naya aasmaan nazar aaya tha

Shayad khud hi ko khokar
Humne wahan ek naye main ko paya tha

There she comes..

Ah, there she comes…

With a spirit that finds solace
In the chilly wind
Which cracks her skin
And reaches out to her soul

With a silence that speaks
Of the gratitude she feels
Towards the one that lit
An unflinching fire in her heart

With restless eyes
Looking for something
She had unwilling left behind
The last time

Now her eyes light up
A smile dawns on her face

She is back to the place where she belongs -

Pune

Pune Calling!

Yayyy! Leaving for a 4 day getaway to Pune today. Been away from this beautiful city for almost 4 months and this is just the right time to be there. I have been informed by reliable sources that the weather there is awesome! All I can think of right now is the lush-green University, coffee and muska bun at good luck and hours of chit-chatting with good ol' friends…Will have more stories to share once I'm back! :)

The best things in life…

Smell of the rain-soaked earth
A long-distance call
Receiving an email from an old friend
Finding a ten rupee note in your washed jeans
Listening to your favourite song on the radio
Finding a pressed flower in your book
Reading funny notes you'd written during lectures
Reading old messages
Singing a stupid song in chorus with friends
A head massage after a long day
A hot shower
Laughing over a stupid joke
Having someone play with your hair
Home-made food
Girls' night out
Watching a classic

Getting your first salary
Sitting under the shade of a tree
Watching the sun set
Walking on the beach
Making maggi at midnight
The smell of coffee
Blushing when friends tease you
Having someone tell you that you're beautiful
Candle-light dinners
Walking hand in hand with the one you love
Realizing that there is so much more in life to be explored….

Fresss Vegetables

Last week I decided to go vegetable-shopping to Reliance Fresh with my mother. For people who are not familiar with this place, it is a chain of 'vegetable malls' started by Reliance. So you get all your tomatoes-potatoes, dals, oils, masalas, wafers and everything edible at this place. In short, it's a place where you buy vegetables in an air-conditioned atmosphere and more importantly, you cannot bargain! The prices are clearly written on a board, which is neatly placed on top of the counter. What's the fun?! So you just keep walking with the cart, keep cursing the rising prices of the vegetables and end up buying very little.

The 'vegetable mall' has surely revolutionized the way we look at this whole business of vegetable buying. However, the aunties are still learning to adapt themselves to it. So you see your Kamlaben checking every single bhindi before she puts it in the polythene. Then she puts it on the automatic weighing machine. It reads 106 gms. Naaah, that's not what she's looking for. She removes exactly 2 bhindis. The machine now reads 100 gms. Perfecttt! Her eyes lit up as if she has achieved the impossible!

While Kamlaben enjoys her moments of joy, I see my mother getting irritated by the strange mechanics of vegetable buying that she has been introduced to - the air-conditioned atmosphere, radio mirchi playing in the background, a person announcing the 'Fresss offers' on the mike…She decides that she'd rather buy the remaining vegetables from the vendors who have their carts standing just opposite the mall. So, we head out of this place and walk to the usual sabji-wallas.

The vegetables are neatly arranged on the cart, gleaming fresh with the water that has just been sprinkled on it. You can smell the fresh pudina and the green chillies. The yellow of lemons looks beautiful placed next to the red tomatoes. This time mother feels much more comfortable. She checks every vegetable with her expert hand, throws it on the weighing machine and haggles with the vendor. Her voice is loud and clear, despite the noise of the vehicles honking in the background. The vendor gives in and reduces Rs. 5 on the overall bill. I look at her and smile, giving her the 'I'm loving it!' look. Mother feels happy and we walk away with great satisfaction and two bags full of vegetables.

Learning to move on

While I was returning home after class today, I felt a gulp in my throat. It was a sense of loss I couldn’t decipher. A lot of things filled up my mind. Was I unhappy, shocked or just getting emotional, given the moment? I don’t know what was it that had gone wrong, but atleast I realized that something had definitely gone wrong.

It was her last day in college today. She is a professor that came across to me as a rebel, as a dreamer, as a person who always wished to accomplish something more each day. There were many who didn’t like her - called her a snob or selfish. But I knew from the first lecture that I attended that I wanted to be her. It was a secret desire and I did keep it a secret till date. It's only now, as she leaves the college that I choose to reveal it.

Indian writing in English - that's her field if specialization. It's a subject constantly surrounded with issues of identity, authenticity, and of the sense of 'Indianness'. It was not a safe subject for a college professor, I thought. Then why did she have to take it? Perhaps, she liked to do the unconventional.

As and how days passed, I felt an urge to know more about her. She taught us poems of A.K. Ramanujan. "Memories like a snake slither away at the most unexpected moments," she said while explaining one of his poems. The passion with which she taught the subject made me wonder that perhaps even she has a past that comes back to her and makes her feel uncomfortable at times. She talked about the identity of Indian-English authors but deep within she was questioning her own. It was reflected in her initiative to investigate the dilemmas of Sindhis who fled from Pakistan during Partition and settled in Gujarat.

She is a Sindhi married to a Gujarati and realized that in the bargain Sindhis had lost a lot - their land, their traditions and now are even losing on their language. I saw her battling for identity. I saw a self burning from within, wanting to break loose and make a mark for herself, a self ready to take on challenges and show to the world the person they had been underestimating all this while. In her voice, in her words, in her look I saw myself…

She made me realize that to learn something from life, you need to move on. There shouldn’t be any guilt in leaving something behind because that's how you grow. The many talks with her enlightened me, pacified me and encouraged me to take the steps that I did. She instigated the desire in me to make my dreams come true. And today, when she was leaving I couldn’t react. I saw the me in her moving away. But then, she has left a bit of her in me to keep the fire burning…

Rain-soaked memories

In the labyrinth streets of my mind, memories find their place in every nook and corner. As I pass through these, I notice some rain-soaked memories tucked away in a corner - under a shed to help them from fading away. These are some handful memories of the days wrapped in the smell of the earth, the hot puffs from the bhajiyas and the endless cups of teas. While some are wrapped in an inexplicable search for the purpose of my being, some are full of fond memories with an evening spent with a loved one.

I have spent many evenings all by myself; walking alone on a path that leads nowhere and taking in whatever nature has to offer - rain, splashes, insects. On this journey though, I did ask myself many questions - why I was here in this city, away from home; what is it that I plan to achieve; what is it that I want to do 3 months down the line when I'll be compelled to leave this city and go back to my hometown. I needed time with myself - to answer these questions, rather to simply raise these questions. And there, on the lonely path, walking on soaked leaves and saving myself from splashes , I experienced many doubts being washed away from my mind and feeling one with the purpose of being here.

Now as it watch the raindrops from the window of my office, I can't help but think of the rainy day I asked myself, "What is it that I want to be?". It's another rainy day, in another city and I crave for the puzzled me who asked that question. I didn’t have any directions then and was head bound to find one, rather make a path for myself. I loved the restlessness, the passion, the many questions that left me sleepless at night. The showers instigated me to answer those questions. It was as if it were saying, "Here I am, pouring on the earth - the place where I belong. Where is your destiny taking you?" There was a perplexed me, a mystified me, a confused yet ambitious me who wanted to answer the rains.

Yes, it's another rainy day, in another city, so what is it that's bothering me? I'm cozy and comfortable in the four walls of this office. So what if I cannot run out and soak myself in the rain, but watch it from the glass windows? So what if I cannot smell the earth or feel the cool breeze? While it pours, I get a glimpse of the perplexed me standing in front of me. Drenched in the showers from head to toe, she smirks at me and asks, "Is this what you wanted to be?". There is no reply. Not yet.

Coffee and conversations

In a country that thrives on tea-drinking populace, a coffee joint would have never been a profitable venture. Or so we thought. Just look around and you will see the shift in the 'drink' that people prefer now. Coffee joints like Barista, CCD, Mochas and others have given rise to a whole new culture- the coffee culture. They attract teens and college crowd who are purely after making an impression . So you would hear pseudo accents, narrating pseudo stories among pseudo friends - all at an attractive price that brings you the not-so-good coffee.

I have been to this new generation coffee joints but I loathe the coffee they offer. With all its fancy names and sky rocketing prices, what they offer is least impressive. I'd rather have a coffee at the nearby tapri for something less than Rs. 10 and still be satisfied. And weren’t coffee joints meant for some quiet time with friends and more so with yourself? Ah, ofcourse these joints offer you that facility - with games, loud music, the guitar kept on one side, the cozy couches and the fancy snacks, they do make sure that you spend quality time out there.

Nonetheless I do visit these places at times just to observe the crowd - they are young and hungry for attention. Clad in the latest fads and lingos, the girls and boys try their best to look upbeat with the cuppa coffee in their hands. The place compels them to behave in a particular manner and that inturn turns out to be a complete turn off.(too many turns here!)

But you cannot deny the fact that these places have surely been successful in spreading a culture that goes beyond the drink. So, if you are at some place where you are asked "coffee or tea?" and you answer "coffee", it means you are the young and restless, cool and happening kind of person, image-conscious, fashion savvy, intellectual types. And if you say "tea", it would mean you are like any other local round the corner, who works and sweats and comes home and has tea and is not aware about the latest fads and book releases.

In an attempt to make even tea-drinkers look hep, a tea joint was set up here in Ahmedabad, called 'Tea Centre'. The greatest irony is that this place is set up right above a Barista. Next to the most popular coffee joint there are almost invisible stairs which take you to this small and cozy place. I believe I must have been to this place more than I have been to a coffee joint. I simply love the interiors of this place - white and light green in colour, it gives you a feeling of freshness. You can watch the busy crossroads from its glass walls while you sip one of the 20 plus variety of teas this place has to offer! Though the strategy of both the places is the same - cool interiors, great variety and not-so-humble prices- the 'Tea Centre' still breeds the kind of people who come there for the love of the national drink rather than being seen as a part of a status symbol.

But there is nothing that beats the simplicity of the old Iranian coffee joint in Pune called 'Good Luck'. Situated on the road which gets its name from the famous college on it - Fergusson- 'Good Luck' has been serving for more than 5 decades now. It rests on a crossroads little ahead of Barista and CCD and still throughout the day it throngs with people who have literally been fed on its coffees and muska buns over the years. The many windows draw in the traffic noise, the waiters run hither thither in sweaty uniforms and the people walk-in in bathroom slippers and a worn out t-shirt. Still, this place is more genuine than any of the new coffee joints. A steaming cup of coffee served with maska bun loaded with butter that melts in your mouth after being dipped in the coffee….ummmm. Absolutely divine.

And as I walk out of this place I spot a Mochas round the corner. The dim lights and the smell of vanilla and strawberry flavoured hookahs make it look like some suspicious place. I read the phrase "coffee and conversations" and ask myself "is it?"