Delhi – a city of contrasts

The Indian way of life provides the vision of the natural, real way of life. We veil ourselves with unnatural masks. On the face of India are the tender expressions which carry the mark of the Creator’s hand. George Bernard Shaw

The indian capital, Delhi  is known as the City of cities. Delhi is really a cluster of many cities from different eras that, over time, have connected up as one. Throughout its inhabited history – since 6^th century BC – it has been captured, ransacked, and rebuilt many times, especially during the medieval period.

As part of its rich and colourful history, Delhi is believed to be the site of ancient Indraprastha, the mythical capital of the ancient Sanskrit epic poem, the Mahabharata, compiled over a period of 800 years from around 400BCE. Just to give you a sense of how epic it really is, the Mahabharata is roughly ten times the length of the Iliad and the Odyssey combined.

Due to its central position, Delhi emerged as a major political, cultural and commercial city along the trade routes between other parts of India, Pakistan, Nepal, and Bangladesh.

Mughal emperor Shah Jahan constructed his namesake walled city, Shahjahanabad, in AD 1639. Shahjahanabad is known today as Old Delhi. The greater part of Old Delhi is still confined within the space of its original walls. In 1911 the British decided to shift the capital of India from Calcutta (Kolkata) to Delhi. A new capital city, New Delhi, was built to the south of the old city during the 1920s.When the British left India in 1947; New Delhi became its national capital and seat of the new government.

So from the end of dad’s solo travels on the Trans-Siberian Railway, let us back up to the beginning of his travels, his trip to India in 1959, on his way to take up a teaching post in England.

He went to India to attend a teachers’ conference in Delhi, The Tenth World Education Conference run by the New education Fellowship.

Dad was so taken by India that he brought us back as  family in 1988. While my very young brother and mother found India overwhelming and frightening, I inherited my father’s love of its intensity.

As he writes to his parents in the following letter, India is a place of contrasts, one minute sipping a cool drink on the balcony of an old Raj hotel, the next being thrown in the throng of people and traffic, of dust and dirt, of hands outstretched to sell, beg, and tussle. It’s not a place for the faint of heart, or the vacant-minded tourist, in India you are truly awake and alive.

Institute of Education, 33 Probyn Road, Delhi 8

28th December 1959

Dear Mum and Dad,

At last I have found time to write to you. I am now staying at St Stephens College on the campus, where I have been allotted a room. I arrived in Bombay, after a 3/4 hour stop at Madras at 10pm, when an hour’s ride in an airline bus took me to the Taj Mahal Hotel, the most expensive in Bombay, fortunately all I paid was 6/- Australian, in tips to the porter, the receptionist, and the man who turned down the blankets. You are quite right about Bombay, it has an odour of its own. It really is a fantastic and depressing sight. I was called at 4am the new day (25th) in time to get to the airport by 6.30 to go to Delhi. On reaching Delhi, I was placed with another Australian whom I knew in a wonderful old Hotel, called the Cecil Runby, Catholics now used as a school. We shared a two room suite with hot and cold water, and a shower, quite posh. We had to move into the College Hostels yesterday, unfortunately there things are not on such a grand scale. Hot water comes up in a bucket every morning, and lavatory basins are in the floor and you have to squat. The room (bed-sitting) is my own and the servants are very pleasant. It is very cold in Delhi at night and I consider the luggage to be very well chosen, particularly the rugs. I didn’t have to buy blankets, they were supplied eventually.

The conference is going to be a big show. There is going to be about 600 people attending from all over the world, including Fiji. I have not yet sighted Margaret. I have met many friendly people and am enjoying myself immensely.

Among these are two Indian students who have shown  me around Delhi and helped me purchase some bangles, sari, and sari blouse for Mary. I will post them on. Another friend is an Englishman who has lived in India for 50 years and is planning a cheap but wonderful trip around India. When I leave India I plan to stop at Athens and Cairo for a few days en route to London.

During the last few days, I have been to the World Agricultural Fair in Delhi which is fantastic. No expense has been spared. Our shows in Melbourne can’t compare to this. Every country except Australia was on display, which made me very ashamed. We attended two very impressive functions today. First was the Official Conference Opening by Nehru which was held in an enormous tent, very colourfully decorated. In the afternoon we were invited to a State Reception given by the mayor of Delhi. We were given the full treatment. Red carpet, fanfares from pipes, official scrolls of welcome, guards of honour etc. Not forgetting that the water fountains had been turned on for us – a great honour from a dry area.

We sat at small tables in colourfully decorated enclosure to eat Indian food while listening to speeches. You will be pleased to hear so far had no worries about money, or my knee which is standing up very well. My Indian friends have taken me to some bazaars and to cafes to taste Indian food. In particular they took me to a cafe called Motimahal where they are nationally famous for their treatment of chicken dishes. It was most unusual, the chicken having the appearance of being smoked. The streets of Delhi are fascinating, the pedestrian reigns supreme, with the traffic zig-zagging like dodgem-cars to avoid them. How there are not more accidents I wouldn’t know. The set up is quite an ordered chaos. I have ridden in buses, horse and cart, scooter-taxis etc. Delhi is a city of contrasts, extreme poverty and wealth, beggars, bodies and cows asleep on footpaths.

With love, Chris

As a shy 15 year old, I remember Delhi as a city of layers, layers of culture, religion, history and modernity: Old Delhi, New Delhi, sacred cows lying in the middle of the road, men in suits, women in saris, the grand opulence of Raj hotels and elaborate temples, contrasted with limbless beggars, hands outstretched in the dirt. Layers of houses, stacked ramshackle on top of each other – looking a little like a house of cards that threatened to collapse at any minute. As if the bustle and perpetual motion of the place keeps it together in a delicate dynamic balance.

It’s a city of exuberant life, colour and joy, intermingled with poverty, disease, suffering. All right there in the streets. India is never dull.

Dad and I will forever share our love of India. In a sense, a city of contrasts describes his personality too. One minute studious and serious, the next cracking a crude joke with a cheeky grin. And if you’ve ever seen his many bookshelves, they’d give Delhi a run for her money, ramshackle stacks, ready to topple at any moment.

Indians are the Italians of Asia and vice versa. Every man in both countries is a singer when he is happy, and every woman is a dancer when she walks to the shop at the corner. For them, food is the music inside the body and music is the food inside the heart. Gregory David Roberts

Source:

Delhi information wikipedia.org

Photos:

Title photo 3.bp.blogspot.com

Page from the Mahabharata wikipedia.org

Jama Masjid tnstravel.com

Riverside travelaroundindia.com

Rickshaws aroundtheworldl.com

Taj Maha Hotel prints.encore-editions.com

Hotel Cecil Delhi maryevans.com

World  Agricultural Trade Fair stamp 3.bp.blogspot.com

World Agricultural Trade Fair US Pavilion 1.bp.blogspot.com

Choosing a fabric blog.hostelbookers.com

Street food therewillbeasia.files.wordpress.com

Akshardham Temple dreamdiscoverytreks.com

Contrasts of Delhi cookingintongues.files.wordpress.com