Monday, 17 March 2008

Modern Delhi is a far cry from the “third-world” images which make it to our TV screens and newspapers. As much as those images are not concocted, also real are the malls; the metro; modern technology; high-class hotels and night clubs! During a single ride across Delhi, this is the first thing that strikes me about the capital state of India.

Tuesday, 18 March 2008

My old friend Amy from England, who lives in Delhi, meets me for a reunion at Con Market in a cool little cafeteria offering real capuccino for an exorbitant price. After the low-budget tourist cafes and local restaurants, where atmosphere and décor rank at the end of a list of priorities, I am glad to sink into the plush sofa and sip at my smoothie from a long glass with a lemon wedged on the rim, just for a change!

As I look around the paintings displayed in the air-conditioned, yellow and orange room, I wonder why the waitress is staring at me when I tuck my feet beneath my crossed legs as usual. Three girls wearing tight jeans and their hair loose are typing away at their laptops perched atop a glass table, giggling as they look over at each others' chat windows on their screens. They are certainly making the most of the wireless web-browsing facility offered.

Since my arrival in Delhi, I continually observe that the beautifully elegant and chaste sari has been replaced by jeans and trendy outfits. It is long since men have almost generally given up the dhoti for trousers, but it gives me a strange feeling to come from the traditional towns and villages to see the modern city women in trousers or short skirts and high heels! Ironically, both Amy and I still receive endless appreciation for respectfully donning traditional Indian dress. It is a strange world!

Amy and I discuss the many aspects of India's gradual weaning into the ways of the Western world. In the city, the centuries-old tradition is gradually living in the shadow of the upcoming hip generation whose ideal is the Western lifestyle and culture – money, women, name and fame – while, ironically, Westerners come to India to escape the superficiality of all that and reconnect with their human side forgotten amidst materialism. Yet, in Delhi, these tweaks from Indian tradition to the Western aspiration are somewhat prominent.

We make our way to Connaught Place, a fashionable central shopping area with circular roads, and stroll around the Inner Circle. We pass several chic, up-market restaurants and trendy lounge bars but I am more surprised to see entire families flocking to McDonald's for their family outing.

Amy says that, respecting the holy cow, McDonald's India does not serve beef, but more and more people consider McDonald's and Pizza Hut THE restaurants to be seen in, just because they are franchises from the West. It is amusing when you consider that in Europe and the States, these are just casual fast-food options and certainly nothing to get all dressed up for. It reminds me of the endless queues when the same franchises came to Malta not so many years back!

Wednesday, 19 March 2008

It is necessary to leave your mobile phone out on the table for all to see. Of course, it must be the latest model, with camera, WAP and mp3, otherwise you must be considered from the lower end of society. By this assessment, I suddenly find myself at this lower end, which catches me quite unawares.

I have always felt too rich for my own good in India, where 50 cents can buy me a ready-meal including rice, flat-bread, lentils and vegetables in a local restaurant. Now, travelling with only my bare necessities and a mobile phone that does not even have a full-colour display, I am at the receiving end of snotty glances from the “elite-wannabes” of Indian society, who wonder why a Western woman (who should obviously earn a lot of money) is going around with an ancient model of Nokia that they would never be seen dead with.

I find myself wondering whatever happened to India. I used to love the prospect of placing my mobile phone at the bottom of my rucksack and never having to dig it out for the entire duration of my stay. But by last year, all my Indian acquaintances and friends had one, and also most of the travellers I met. To keep up with the Joneses and the Singhs, I got myself an Indian SIM which gave me entry to the new world of telecommunication in a society that has become more dependent on mobile phones than any Western country I can think of!

In India, the mobile phone is far from just a practical commodity. Apart from being a status symbol it is also your best companion. “Hello Tunes” play your favourite song to your caller instead of a ringing tone, the personal touch. You can make friends through the chat-network, play games, listen to music, access information, win prizes and lots more – I actually wonder what else they can possibly think of! And I wish I could eliminate those pesky spam SMSes advertising all these wonderful options!

Just five years ago, I visited a small village perhaps a 100 km from Delhi. It had just one fixed telephone line to serve the entire community. I feel almost certain that each individual in that village has a mobile phone now. I am witnessing fast-paced progress no doubt, and it certainly feeds the rumors that India will be the next Super-Power within a decade.

Thursday, 20 March 2008

I am staying in the midst of Pahar Ganj – a place bursting with shops, hotels and restaurants born due to its practical proximity to New Delhi Railway Station.

Pahar Ganj brings all of India's handicrafts together: soapstone sculpture from Tamil Nadu; Gujarati patchwork and sequins or Rajasthani mirror-work wall-hangings and bed-covers; single squirrel hair miniature paintings from Rajasthan; silks from Varanasi; marble and Persian carpets from Agra; embroidered leather and Pashmina woollens from Kashmir; Thangka paintings from Ladakh and much, much more.

Pahar Ganj also brings together all kinds of people – from low-budget back-packers travelling across the country, to rich package-holiday tourists doing the Delhi-Agra-Jaipur Golden Triangle, to business people, both corporate and independent merchandisers, to greedy Indian shop-owners keen to exploit all of them. Chaos is an understatement in Pahar Ganj. They still have to invent the word that describes the Main Bazaar more accurately.

Compassionate Amy whisks me away. She laughs when she sees my expression as we halt in front of a five-storey, glittering mega-mall, the kind of which I have never seen before. After the uniformed security lets us through the glass doors, I am content to roam around wide-eyed from store to store admiring what I cannot afford (which makes me wonder how much do some Indians actually earn). From art-work to handicrafts to clothes from international lables such as Levis and Benetton – the selection is enormous with over a hundred shops under one roof.

Later, Amy takes me to Fab India “What better way to sooth your soul than a tad of shopping at India's favourite lable?” she giggles. Indeed it seems that in modern India, increasingly it is not the outfit but the lable that counts!

Friday, 21 March 2008

Barely a hint of Good Friday but Holi is prominently felt! While the small Christian community mourns the crucifixion of Lord Jesus Christ, primarily Hindu Delhi indulges in a war-game, armed with water-pistols and balloons full of dye and water. Holi is the festival of colour and perhaps the most widely celebrated day of the year after Diwali, an explosive festival of lights and fire-crackers!

Little Mohan, an eight-year-old kid, asks his grandfather: "Dada-ji, do you want to play Holi?" "Sure, Mohan," replies the grandfather, who in no time is soaked from head to toe, coloured pink and green, and has a couple of eggs sitting on his head. His first victim defeated, Mohan takes to the streets to join in the chaotic mission of colouring everything in sight.

Soon, red, blue, pink and green cows are roaming the streets, chased by red, blue, pink and green people squirting red, blue, pink and green liquid from all sorts of home-made water-weapons such as mother's washing-up liquid bottle.

In a few years, Mohan will most likely sprite his enthusiasm with a good dose of alcohol before taking to the streets. There is no better occasion to get drunk than a Hindu festival. Days later a bright red Mohan will still be attempting to scrub the stains from his skin. It is very easy to identify who won and who lost at playing Holi!

Tuesday, 25 March 2008

While I sit waiting for Amy in our favourite cool cafe, I browse through a newspaper left lying on the sofa. The second page displays a feature about the acid-scarred brides of unsuccessful arranged marriages – a horrific reality that India is unable to statistically measure or control to this day. In the middle of the same newspaper is a full-colour dating supplement for those wishing to find the ideal bride or groom! “Caste no bar,” most of them state, the societal caste system only now slowly losing its importance, although long abolished by Mahatma Ghandi.

Amy and I later take a stroll around one of Delhi's parks. Although I have seen this before in Kolkata, I am once again surprised to observe couples on patches of grass openly displaying affection to each other – a radical turn from traditional Indian cultural norms! The only people ever seen publicly showing affection are male friends, who often walk around hand in hand or leaning on each others' shoulders... often giving a new-comer the erroneous impression that India is a country full of homosexuals!

Thursday, 27 March 2008

The brand new metro is Delhi's pride and joy. In operation only since a couple of years, it has completely changed the experience of travelling through the city. I am delighted to do away with sitting in an auto-rickshaw inhaling the fumes while stuck in a traffic-jam involving buses, autos, cycle-rickshaws and bull-carts. Gone are the days when I had to ease my way past the limbless lepers crawling on the ground of the railway station into a crammed third-class local train compartment, where I would gasp for air for the entire journey while somebody's elbow dug into my ribs.

Instead I saunter into a modern metro-station and in exchange for a ridiculously cheap fare, I am given a plastic chip. I walk over to the gates and touch the chip to a pad, which responds by allowing me through. This technology puts the London Underground to shame! Plenty of signs and maps in both Hindi and English make it easy to navigate through. The metro itself is a modern, sleek machine which offers tremendous views when it is speeding above ground, with the city lights below. I wonder how many people use the metro just for the sake of the fun ride!

Saturday, 29 March 2008

Sure, the slums hosting thousands of people in homes made of cardboard, metal scraps and plastic sheeting are real. Entire communities settle on the edge of railway tracks, living off ravaging in garbage piles rising in small hills nearby, a few make-shift stalls and perhaps a little thieving. Also real are the 26-inch colour-televisions within those dwellings, as I am more than surprised to discover while I explore the back end of nowhere of Delhi. I had never quite had such a close look at a slum before.

I notice that they do not lack anything, except perhaps proper sanitary arrangements and an aesthetically appealing environment to live in. But they have somehow arranged for running water and electricity supply, thanks to some skilled community-members cabable of diverting the government supplies for their own avail. But they are equipped with all the basic necessities, appear thoroughly well-fed and even happy. I do not question the standard of living – perhaps they are more self-satisfied than most people with ample material opulence!